Here's What I Found This Week
A new series about the small discoveries that catch my attention while wandering through Kyoto
I’m SJF, a composer and sound artist living in Kyoto, Japan. These letters are for wanderers and creators seeking the quieter side of life; stories, soundscapes, and moments of beauty. For those feeling burned out by the modern world and those drawn to traditional craftsmanship, ambient music, and mindful internet spaces. If that’s you, then you’re welcome here.
There's this moment that happens when you're walking through an unfamiliar place and perhaps you’ve felt it too? You’re not rushing to be somewhere, just moving through a space with attention, when something catches your eye or ear that feels like a small gift. A sound you've never heard before. A particularly beautiful shop sign. The strong smell of a Jasmine bush. A conversation that shifts how you think about something.
I've been collecting these small moments since arriving in Kyoto, discoveries that individually might not warrant a full letter here on Substack but together paint a picture of what it feels like to live here with curiosity instead of rushed agenda.
So I thought I'd start sharing them; here's what caught my attention this week.
The Sound of a Traditional Shopping Street
Last week, my friend Liz and I wandered through Demachiyanagi Shotengai with some field recorders. These covered shopping streets—shotengai—exist all over Japan, but each one has its own particular atmosphere. Demachiyanagi's feels gentle, with shop owners who've been there for decades. This place has a kind of unhurried pace that's becoming rare in the city. Listen to a short sound recording below:
I love the way every store has its own sonic signature. The conversations overheard behind slightly open doors. Bicycles trundling past. The gossiping customers at the supermarket and the Japanese sweet shop owner chatting to customers about their day. It's this kind of deep listening that draws people to join the sound walks I guide—there's something magical about experiencing a place through headphones rather than just taking photos. It tends to linger in your memory for longer.
A Conversation About Letting Go
I met my friend Kacchan earlier this week and we got onto the topic of the difference between thinking and doing. She practices the art of Japanese tea ceremony, and she told me that during her rituals, she tries to separate her mind from body—to just do the ceremony without thinking about it; instead letting muscle memory and training take over.
She's also a master busshi (buddha sculptor) and works with some of the finest temples in the city. I asked her if this is the same feeling as when she's working with her chisels.
"It's different when I'm carving buddhas," she said. "Then my mind is active, thinking about the customer, the temple it's for, what they need. But tea ceremony... that's about becoming empty."
This stayed with me. How much of what we do requires thought, and how much can we trust to practice? When I write music it often feels like this. When it comes to whether a sound, or an instrument makes the piece more beautiful or not, it’s less thinking and more feeling.
Small Things That Caught My Eye
→ I seem to have found a new interest in collecting chopstick sleeves from restaurants… Here are three from my very humble collection so far. For further reading, here's a great article that talks about the history of chopstick sleeves with some very beautiful examples: Chopsticks Sleeves as Emissaries of Japanese Typography and Culture.
→ This lovely smoke bush, growing peacefully next to a river in our neighbourhood.
→ A front garden that is simply, effortlessly, lovely.
→ This humble tobacco shop, next to a phone booth. I presume it's so you can smoke whilst you chat to your lover?
Morning Scents
And how could I possibly write about what I'm paying attention to and not write about scent?
→ I picked up this truly intoxicating incense "Sakae 1966" from Kungyokudo, who’ve been making incense since 1594 — which makes them arguably one of the oldest incense makers in Kyoto. Check out their magnificent description of this blend which describes the area of Sakae in Nagoya:
Those were the days when the city was full of dreams and hopes, with roads leading to a shining future stretching out into the city. The scent of sweet and nostalgic memories of landmarks reflecting the bustling cityscape made everyone's hearts beat with excitement.
What I'm Noticing
The more I pay attention to these small things, the more I realise they're training my eye and ear for a different kind of noticing. Something slower and more receptive than the urgent, optimisation-focused attention that screen life demands.
I'm thinking of making this a regular thing. Sharing the week's small discoveries as they accumulate. Not every week, but when the collection feels complete, like a handful of interesting stones gathered from a walk along the beach.
What have you found this week that caught your attention in a way you weren't expecting?
Next time, I'll share what I discover during my first time experiencing the Gion Festival—the sounds, the craftsmanship, the way tradition moves through modern Kyoto streets.
As always, thank you for noticing with me. If this letter stirred something within you and you’d like to support my work here in Kyoto, please consider becoming a paid subscriber, exploring my music on Bandcamp or buying me a coffee.
I've also started guiding small sound walks through Kyoto where together we'll record the city's hidden sounds and you'll leave with a custom soundscape I'll mix just for you. If this sounds like something you'd be interested in, please find more information here.
Until next time,
🍃 SJF
more of this please.