There is a prevailing sense of mono no aware —the Japanese awareness of the impermanence of things. Each image carries a gentle, unforced sadness, not of loss, but of the recognition that these quiet, beautiful moments are fleeting. Despite the title, Friends Album is as much about solitude as it is about togetherness. Many photographs feature a single figure in a vast or contemplative space—a man staring out to sea, a woman reading alone in a dim café. Yet these solitary figures never feel lonely. Instead, Rikitake suggests that friendship includes the capacity to be alone together, to respect the silences that exist between people.
For anyone who has ever found beauty in the quiet spaces between words, or cherished the simple act of walking beside someone without needing to speak, Friends Album is not just a book to see, but one to feel. It is a quiet masterpiece about the quietest of loves: friendship itself. Friends Album By Yasushi Rikitake.54
The book unfolds like a memory itself: non-linear, impressionistic. One spread shows two figures walking along a rain-slicked path, their backs to us, umbrellas touching like hesitant hands. Another presents a still life—an empty chair by a window, afternoon light pooling on a wooden floor. A cat sleeping on a sun-warmed stone. A half-drunk cup of tea beside a newspaper. There is a prevailing sense of mono no
The cover, a muted gray-blue with simple typography, suggests an old family photo album—not the glossy, perfect kind, but the worn one kept on a low shelf, opened on rainy afternoons. In a photographic landscape often dominated by spectacle and immediacy, Yasushi Rikitake’s Friends Album dares to be small, slow, and tender. It does not demand attention; it invites companionship. Looking through its pages feels less like viewing a collection of artworks and more like sitting beside an old friend in comfortable silence—watching the light shift, saying nothing, but understanding everything. Many photographs feature a single figure in a
The book also explores how friendship extends beyond the human. There is a tender attentiveness to the non-human world: stray cats, aging trees, weather-beaten buildings. In Rikitake’s eyes, these too are companions—silent witnesses to the slow passage of time. As with many publications from Akio Nagasawa Publishing, the physical design of Friends Album is an integral part of the experience. The book is modest in size—neither a large-format coffee-table tome nor a pocket edition—sitting comfortably in the hands. The matte paper absorbs light rather than reflecting it, enhancing the softness of Rikitake’s photographs. The sequencing is unhurried, each image given room to breathe, with occasional blank pages that function as pauses or exhalations.