When we first sat down with Yoshito Hasaka (@_f7) back in 2021, he described his photography as "a transit point” and “a record of what I've done." A creative director, graphic designer, and lifelong Tokyo resident, Yoshito has spent his whole life in the city, making it his playground as a photographer. His images, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, with vibrant compositions and a colorful, futuristic vision of the world, made him a natural fit for the original Trope Tokyo, and they continue to resonate just as strongly today. We're thrilled to welcome him back as a contributor to the revised and expanded edition of Trope Tokyo, and we thought it was the perfect moment to check in with him. Read more below to find out what's changed, what's stayed the same, and where his lens is pointed now.
Can you please share an update on what you've been working on and where you are living?
Based in Tokyo, I’ve been working with a wide range of clients across industries and scales, both in Japan and internationally. Drawing on my experience in client-facing production work as well as in-house roles, from being the first employee to helping grow a company to around 200 people, I’ve been involved in shaping strategies and driving projects forward. Sometimes I take on the player role of designer within those processes and when needed, I also handle photography.
How has your photography style changed over the past 5 years since the first Trope Tokyo came out?
All the photographs included in the first Trope Tokyo were taken with a Canon. I used to significantly alter the colors, reducing realism and pushing the images toward something closer to an illustration. At the time, as Tokyo’s imagery was becoming increasingly commodified, I pursued the visuals that felt entirely new – something that no one had seen before, something that could serve as a form of stimulation translated into imagery.
Since I started using rangefinders, both how I see and how I shoot have changed significantly. I now rely on post-processing for precise framing, keep both eyes open, and focus solely on distance rather than the corners of the frame. I also often shoot without directly looking through the viewfinder.
The act of pressing the shutter has shifted in meaning. Rather than focusing purely on the visual result, I’ve become more conscious of capturing the moment itself – the atmosphere, the situation – and embedding a kind of personal trigger that allows me to recall the unseen story behind the image later.
What camera are you currently shooting with? What is your favorite camera you’ve used?
In the previous feature, I had just switched from Canon to Leica M and was in the middle of struggling – while enjoying it – with the fundamentals of rangefinder photography. It’s been about five years since then.
Perhaps due to my nature as a product designer and my interest in brand direction, I decided to fully immerse myself in this world and experience as many tools as possible, especially a variety of M lenses. Along the way, the SL3 was released, and I explored whether combining an EVF with M lenses would suit me.
For my personal work, outside of any commercial context, the setups that bring me the most joy while shooting are the Leica M10-D with Elmar 35mm and the SL3 with the APO-Summicron 35mm. These are the combinations I tend to carry most often.
Having photographed Tokyo your entire life, how do you continue to find new perspectives or stories within a city you know so intimately?
Tokyo is constantly changing. Even places I’ve photographed before continue to evolve. Returning to the same locations and documenting those changes has always been one of the simplest and most rewarding ways for me to engage with the city.
In recent years, another approach I’ve been consciously taking to find new perspectives is travel. Leaving Tokyo and visiting different cities, then reflecting on Tokyo from an external point of view, is extremely important. The more places I go, the more new differences I discover in relation to Tokyo.
Although I haven’t fully shaped it into a body of work yet, each journey gives me a new perspective on Tokyo – one that is informed by the places I’ve visited before as well as the place I’m currently in.
How do you think Tokyo has changed over the past 5 years?
Five years ago, people were in a situation where they couldn’t go outside freely. Since then, many international visitors have returned, and even in well-known locations, the people you see there now feel completely different.
The city itself has also changed significantly due to various factors. The effects of climate change are something I can strongly feel on a physical level. At the same time, generational shifts are taking place, and areas around train stations that once had a lively, traditional atmosphere are increasingly becoming what people call “shutter streets” – streets with many closed-down shops. These areas are then often redeveloped on a large scale, transforming entire districts at once. Cities continuously renew themselves over time, evolving to meet the needs of the people who inhabit them at any given moment, while also looking toward the future. Shibuya is right in the middle of this process.
While it’s saddening to see historic buildings, long-standing shops, and the cultures and communities around them gradually fade, these changes are also necessary in order to create environments that fit the people who interact with those areas today. Both sides of this transition are part of the same flow of time, and I believe they are equally valuable to document through photography from multiple perspectives.
For photographers trying to develop a distinct visual voice, how do you balance experimentation with consistency in your work over time?
This closely overlaps with what I said in the previous feature. I think it ultimately comes down to a very simple principle: my photographs are records of my own actions, captured by pressing the shutter.
Under this personal framework, every photograph, including failed ones, shares a consistent value as “experience.” The total number of shutters I’ve released, and the cumulative duration of those shutter speeds, roughly corresponds to the total amount of time I’ve truly been present in those moments. It’s impossible to calculate precisely, of course, but it continues indefinitely as long as I’m alive. Continuously reviewing that body of work, expanding the range of my actions and thoughts, and keeping on shooting – that’s one part of it.
The other is recognizing that while my photographs belong to me, the moment I show them to someone, they also begin to belong to the viewer. They interact with the viewer’s memory and give rise to new interpretations. In that sense, there are as many “correct” readings as there are viewers.
That’s why, as the sole creator, I try to consistently articulate my own interpretation of the image before it is seen by others. At the same time, the selection in this book reflects a different perspective – images were chosen as works that function independently, in line with the editorial vision of the book. I see this as a basic form of respect, to ensure that my explanation doesn’t shift depending on the context or the audience.
Keeping these two ideas in mind, I continue to take photographs. For me, photography is no longer just about capturing images, enjoying them, or using them as a means of explanation. It has become a fragmented record of what I’ve done, yet when viewed as a whole, it forms a continuous timeline of my own lived experience.
By shooting extensively and thinking deeply over time, even more experimental work becomes normalized within that larger body. In fact, the more I experiment, the more range and depth I can bring to my expression, perhaps reflecting a designer’s perspective more than a photographer’s.
Trope Tokyo (Revised + Expanded) edition is now available online and in stores in North America. Order your copy today here. Available internationally in June 2026.
