My journey into modeling didn’t begin with a casting call or a career goal. It began with a question. I was struggling with my self-image—how I saw myself, how I didn’t—and I came across the work of a photographer whose portraits moved me deeply. I admired the way she captured people: honestly, tenderly, with grace. And I wondered, what would happen if I gave her the frame? Would I be able to see myself differently?
So I contacted her, not as a model, but as a curious person seeking perspective. We did a shoot: no makeup, no styling, no training—just me. And to my surprise, I liked the result. Or rather, I saw something I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t perfection, but it was presence. And that was powerful.
From that first encounter, doors opened. That photographer became a friend, and I started helping with her workshops and projects. I discovered the variety of photographic environments and the subtle artistry behind each shot. My 25 years of dancing practice came in handy—suddenly, I was expressing through posture, motion, energy. It felt natural. It felt alive.
I’ve never tried to “become a model.” But I’ve kept myself open to projects—photo shoots, artistic collaborations, and even a few video promotions for brands and places. I’ve learned to appreciate the technical and emotional labor behind every frame. I deeply respect the craft, and I enjoy being part of it, even if occasionally.
Some of my favorite photos were taken in the most unexpected moments: like during a spontaneous two-hour shoot with a young traveler in Shinjuku, on a freezing January afternoon. She was just starting out, and I was just curious. But something clicked—and the images we created together are among the ones I cherish most.
Modeling, for me, is not about image. It’s about encounter—between the subject and the artist, between the inner self and what shows on the surface. And as long as it stays meaningful, I’ll keep saying yes when these encounters arise.
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