Akihito Yoshida Photo Book  "The Dialogue of Two"
The Absence of Two" (titled "Falling Leaves" at the time of publication) was presented at the KYOTOGRAPHIE Kyoto International Photography Festival in 2017 and was a big hit in Japan and abroad.
The Absence of Two" depicts the daily life of the artist Yoshida's grandmother (88 years old) and her cousin Daiki (23 years old), and how it comes to an end with Daiki's sudden suicide.
This work, "The Dialogue of Two," is composed of a series of photographs that follow the two and a half years that elapsed between Daiki's death and the death of his grandmother at the age of 88, who was left alone after Daiki passed away.
The Dialogue of Two" is a collection of photographs that is based on "a story" that Yoshida's grandmother told him over and over again before her death, about how a person who had lost a loved one faced and interacted with the dead. 
The artist will produce and sell 49 copies of this "artist's book," all of which are handmade by the artist himself.
Reservations can be made through Reminders Photography Stronghold, which has galleries in Tokyo and Kyoto.
If you would like to reserve a copy, please click the "Reserve Now" button below.
On February 10, 2023 this photo book will be sold out!
Thank you so much!!

Akihito Yoshida's Photobook  "The Dialogue of Two"
◎Number of pages : 220
Size (Outer Box) : 255 x 178 mm
◎Size (text) : 234 x 165 mm
◎Production limited edition : 49 copies (all editions are signed)
◎Published November 18, 2022
There is a small rural town called Kunitomi in Miyazaki Prefecture in southern Japan.
In this town, my grandmother and my cousin Daiki lived together.
Daiki lived in the same house and room with my grandmother since he was a child and was raised with great care.
Even after he grew up to be a young man, he never left his grandmother, and their life together continued.
As a family member and a photographer, I have continued to capture their small daily life together.
And this story was to end with the death of my grandmother, which was to come in the not-too-distant future.
But it came one day, really without warning.
Daiki closed his life by himself. He was 23 years old.
In the face of his all too untimely death, all we were left with was unspeakable sadness and regret.
But the real sadness came when I saw my grandmother left alone after losing her beloved grandson.
She said, ”There is no meaning to life. I wanna leave for you."
The sense of loss and despair she must have felt was indescribable.
All I could do was point my camera at her and keep clicking the shutter as if I was trying to beat away her sadness.
When was it that my grandmother began to stand at the window and stare blankly out?
It was also around this time that she began to tell me a story that she had to tell me over and over again.
It was about "Daiki came back last night.
My grandmother recounted the story in great detail, as if it had really happened.
And at the end, she always said, "It was not a dream. Daiki came back here.”
How many times have I heard this story?
Each time, my heart was filled with complex feelings that I could not put into words.
On November 18, 2016, about two and a half years after Daiki's absence, my grandmother quietly passed away after 88 years of life.
Even after losing Daiki, my grandmother continued to feel his presence closer to her than anyone else.
I will try to weave together the depth of her grief and the depth of love that flowed between her and Daiki, by pulling together the many photographs that remain in my possession.

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