In an age of hyper-visibility—where childhood is often performed for TikTok dances and Instagram reels—there is something profoundly radical about stillness. Japanese photographer Sumiko Kiyooka has built a career on that radical stillness. But with her latest project, Mayu.hanasaki.i.13 Years Old.cocoon.photobook , released in a limited 40-volume run, Kiyooka has done more than just capture a portrait of adolescence. She has given us a 240-page meditation on the geometry of becoming.
Owning Cocoon is less about collecting art and more about holding a reliquary. The dust jacket is a soft, raw linen that feels like a cocoon’s exterior. The pages are uncut on the first edition, forcing the reader to slice them open with a knife—a ritual act of freeing Mayu from the paper prison. In an age of hyper-visibility—where childhood is often
Sumiko Kiyooka, known for her ethereal monochrome studies of transitional ages (see her prior series Nijiiro no Yami ), has never shied away from the uncanny valley between girlhood and womanhood. However, with Hanasaki, Kiyooka found a subject who doesn’t just sit for the camera—she converses with it. She has given us a 240-page meditation on
Sold out directly from the publisher. Secondary market bids are already reported at 4x the original retail price. Note: This piece is a creative interpretation based on the title and themes you provided. If this is a real, obscure art publication, please provide more context for a factual article. If it is a conceptual or fictional work, this serves as an artistic review. The pages are uncut on the first edition,
The subject is Mayu Hanasaki. She is 13. And she is, quite literally, wrapped in her own world.
The book is published as a limited run of 40 copies (denoted by the "40L" in the colophon). Each copy comes with a single, original 5x7 inch contact print—a different frame for each owner. This scarcity isn't elitist; it's intentional. Kiyooka has stated in a rare interview that "adolescence is not a streaming service. It is a quiet room that only a few ever get to enter."
The title, Cocoon , is apt. The book’s first third bathes Hanasaki in soft, diffused light—winter mornings, cotton sheets, the translucent curve of an ear pressed against a foggy window. These are not the garish, over-lit portraits of youth marketed to us by commercial media. Instead, Kiyooka employs a 40-year-old medium-format film technique, giving each grain a texture that feels like memory rather than photograph.