Fuji San and Social Media
On my recent trip to Japan, I fulfilled a 20+ year dream: to see Japan with my own eyes and to see Fuji San. Back then, I didn’t know what to expect. I had heard about this massive volcano and all the stuff you see in documentaries and movies. But it turns out one day social media happened (IG), and suddenly Fuji San became the “influencer mountain” above some others (maybe Everest is the top one, pun intended).
Anyway, since Fuji San appeared all over social media, my perception of the place didn’t change, but new expectations were created. I finally had the opportunity to see if those were wrong, or maybe just a little off.
You probably don’t know me, but in a nutshell, I make my living from photography — real estate and architecture, to be specific. So while my mind was curious about what I might see in Japan in general, I already had some ideas for the shots I wanted at Fuji, Kawaguchiko. A few ideas had been quietly living in my head for a bit.
Upon arriving that afternoon, the first thing I did was go get my famous Lawson photo with Fuji San in the background. Not knowing what I was about to see, I went there, and what I saw shocked me to the bones. The place was packed. Hectic. People everywhere trying to get their Insta photo. Of course, I wanted mine too, but I had another idea in mind — something a little more crafted, a little less rushed.
I forgot to take a photo of the crowd while I was there, but these are some images I found online that illustrate what I’m talking about.
So I crossed the street and went to a designated area with signs everywhere warning people not to cross the road and asking them not to fly drones either.
When I got to my spot, I carefully did some tripod yoga with my GorillaPod, trying to find an angle that could have the full building with the astonishing Fuji San at the back. I just wanted both, only. I had a shot in mind — a long exposure to smooth out the movement — so I dialled in a 30-second shutter and hoped the crowd’s blur would do the job. I knew the rest I could recover in post.
This is what I got.
Rather than feeling disappointed with the photo, the moment, the place, the tourists, or the Japanese security guy who asked me firmly to pack up and move on, I decided to walk away instead. I paused, sat with the moment, and reflected on the image I had just made — not just the outcome, but the intention behind it. I realised I had gotten caught up in the excitement and noise of the scene and forgotten everything I’ve learned, and everything I live from.
For a moment, I was trapped in the rush of taking the photo and posting it online.
“Hey internet! Here I am, B$7(hes!”
After a short internal rant — judging myself, judging others — I knew I was wrong. I had forgotten to listen to myself, to check in with the reason I carried the camera all this way.
So I made a new plan. I was going to get the photo, but in the way I like it. I’d do it with intention, and I’d do it using the one tool I rely on more than any camera: patience.
The next morning, I was out of my hotel room by 4:30 a.m.
The dawn was beautiful, calm, and Fuji San was glowing in the distance. But the internal dilemma was still there. Do I really want this photo? The one everyone takes? Am I just feeding the same loop? Should I wander somewhere else and chase something different?
I decided yes — I can live with taking the photo everyone takes. But I wasn’t going to waste this rare, quiet moment of early light just chasing the Lawson shot. I gave myself 10 minutes max, then moved on to explore.
Upon arrival, I saw the most amazing view I had seen in days: no tourists. Well, not exactly. But I was genuinely relieved to see no more than five photographers scattered across the area, each with a tripod and a lens, composing something slower. Something more deliberate. That’s the kind of image I had come for.
Time was ticking. I had arrived, but the moment was fleeting. I chose to ditch the tripod — I felt like I couldn’t breathe with it attached to me. I trusted my instincts, adjusted my exposure for hand-held shooting, and framed Fuji San the way I felt it, not just the way I saw it.
I quickly reviewed the image on the little screen. It felt right — balanced, personal, quiet. I kept walking, and that walk turned into one of the most meaningful I’ve taken in a long time.
I didn’t just get the photo I came for.
I left with a quiet reminder of why I do this — not to follow the crowd, but to follow the light, to slow down, and to feel something before I try to capture it.
And Fuji San, steady and still, walked beside me the whole way.
These are some of the photos from that walk.
