Analogiesº12 — From Grey to Gray
On snowy Tokyo days, past aliases, and then-and-now realizations
The snow has stopped as I write this. The white blanket that covered Tokyo this morning is already beginning to lose its grip, melting into the wet asphalt. But for a few hours—from morning coffee time until just after lunch—our corner of South Tokyo was suspended in that rare, muffled silence that only happens when it snows here.
I stood by our window, phone in hand, recording the flakes falling over the rooftops. Our cat, Kiki, sat beside me, equally mesmerized by the falling white static. We stayed inside where it was warm, having clam chowder for lunch, watching the world slow down.
But as I looked out at the snow, I remembered a previous version of myself—a version that now feels like a ghost from the past.
If this were eight years ago—back when I was a language student in Kichijoji, back when I operated under the moniker Erin Cross—I would not be standing at this window. I would have been out there.
I remember a specific snowy day in Tokyo in 2018. I had just finished class, and the snow was coming down hard. Instead of taking the train straight home to Koganei, I walked to Inokashira Park. The lake was a solid sheet of white; the swan boats were docked and freezing.
I made a rule for myself that day—just finish one roll of film before going home and try not to freeze to death.
I didn’t realize then that a few months later, I would be working on a photobook titled Noir Myths: Cold and Grey. In it, I included all frames of that single roll: 1 to 36. No edits, no discarding the “bad” shots, no second-guessing.
I spelled it G-R-E-Y.
The “E” was for Erin—my nickname, my university identity, the name I used when I first shifted from biology and nursing to the arts. It was the name I used when my then-boyfriend (now husband) met me. That version of me was prolific (?), impulsive, and constantly shivering in the cold to get the shot. (I actually dug up an old interview on C4 Journal from that era, where Erin talks about finding festivals and publishing books. It feels like reading a letter from a different lifetime.)
Today, I go by Anne.
It is my real second name, but it is also a choice. When I founded Ephemere, I transitioned from Erin to Anne—a shift that I spoke about briefly in a Tokyo Weekender interview regarding the platform’s origins.
I realized today that somewhere along the line, I started spelling gray with an “A.”
The “A” is for Anne. The “A” is for Aging (I just turned another year older in December). The “A” is for Acceptance.
And perhaps, the “A” is for After.
There is a distinct line in my life now: the Before and the After. The Erin years were about the external chill—the visible cold of a Tokyo winter. The Anne years have been about navigating an internal winter, a quiet season that arrived suddenly and hasn’t quite left.
There is a temptation to look back at Noir Myths with melancholy—to miss the girl who froze her fingers just to see what frame 36 would look like. My life now is filled with Ephemere by looking at other people’s photos, listening to their stories, and helping them make their books.
As I held my old book today, I caught myself wondering: Wouldn’t a second edition be a good idea?
I found myself imagining it—Anne “the Publisher” stepping in to help Erin “the Artist.” I could release it with the gray of today. I would still use the same images, the same sequencing untouched—the same blurred shots, the grit, the overlapping frames. But the tactility would be different. The paper, the texture—it would be a different object. It would reflect the gray I understand now: grounded, tactile, and deliberate.
I used to think that becoming a(n independent) curator or a publisher meant that I stopped being an artist. Maybe, sometimes, it does. And, maybe, that is totally fine.
Now that I am getting older, I realize it is hard to be both at once. But I hope, in the end, both complement each other.
As I sit here, the thought passes. Perhaps Cold and Grey was actually just a myth of its time. Maybe it wouldn’t be right to force a second edition. What’s been done has been done.
Instead, I hope I can find the strength to continue weaving the other story I have been carrying in the background. A life project—not just any other project. One that doesn’t look out at the snow, but looks inward at the people we have lost, and the love that remains in the silence.
But for now, I watch the snow melt. And I ponder on the next books I have to make.
Stay warm,
Anne
Some things to think about
Do you have a “past creative self”? A moniker or a style you used to work under that feels distant now? Do you view that version of yourself with kindness, or does it make you cringe?
If you could take a specific project from your past and recreate it with who you are today, would you? Or do you believe some things are best left as they were—perfectly imperfect myths of their time?
Does shifting your focus to help others (teaching, curating, parenting) feel like a pause in your creativity, or is it simply a different form of it?
Currents
Revisiting the format from Analogiesº1...
Reads: I am not reading a specific book right now, but I am revisiting my own library of photobooks for research (and nostalgia).
Shows: Re-watching Schitt’s Creek for the nth time. It hits differently now—especially knowing that we have lost Catherine The Great O’Hara. My husband and I also just started watching Long Vacation (the ‘90s Japanese drama).
Sounds: A lot of ‘90s pop, rock, and R&B. No surprise there.
Projects:
Curating: I am currently organizing two group exhibitions back-to-back at Gallery Conceal (Feb 18–23 and Mar 20–25), each featuring nine artists.
Exhibiting: I will be at the CP+ Zines Fair in Yokohama from Feb 28 to Mar 1.
Drowning: We received over 1,000 submissions for our recent black & white open call. I am buried in images, but grateful for every single one. Shout out to my good friend and assistant, Sarah, for trying to float with me!
One last thing...
If you enjoy these reflections, I would love for you to subscribe to the Ephemere Online Journal.
We recently moved the journal to Substack to give it a proper home. My long-time friend Ria is helping me as Managing Editor, and we are publishing essays, interviews, and features from and beyong the Ephemere ecosystem.
While Analogues Analogies (this space) is for my personal internal monologues, the Ephemere Online Journal is where we look outward at the world of photography together.
As a thank you for subscribing to these personal ramblings, I’d like to offer you a 10% discount on the Ephemere Online Store. You can use the code ANNE10 at checkout. I appreciate you being here. 🤍
Nice!
Thank you, Anna, your words are always poetic