Welcome to another captivating photo essay, this time by Charles Raymond Holland. We'd love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to comment below and, if you're interested, share your photo essay with us. Your perspectives add valuable dimensions to our collective exploration.

What if a quiet morning in a small town could reveal the beauty we usually overlook?

Charles Raymond Holland’s camera turns ordinary moments—like sunlight on a weathered wall or kids playing on the street—into vivid stories. His unique perspective invites us to slow down and really see the world around us, not just glance past it. With years of experience and a knack for finding magic in the mundane, Holland’s work reminds us that art is all around if we take the time to notice.

His photo essay will inspire you to see your own world in a completely new way.

Holland’s photographs capture the quiet beauty of everyday life in a way that feels fresh and deeply personal.

A crack in the sidewalk, a shadow cast by an old building, or a discarded toy on the pavement come alive with meaning through his lens. His ability to find art in simplicity shows that you don’t need flashy tools or exotic locations to create something truly impactful. With a mix of experience and intuition, Holland draws us into moments we might otherwise miss.

By the time you finish his photo essay, you’ll start seeing your own surroundings in an entirely new way.

After studying photography in the U.K., I originally went to Japan in 1981 to photograph Asia and send the images back to a colour library in London. I then took a job as an assistant in the largest commercial photography studio in Osaka (Yamagishi Studio) where I learned more in three months than in three years at photography college (Farnham, Surrey). Studio work taught me how to recreate natural light (much brighter than the U.K.) needed for interiors (kitchens), fashion, and catalogue work. As one of the photographer's assistants, I began to anticipate his style and usually helped set up the lighting before he took control. We kept a watchful eye on the subject in case something needed correcting. A hair over the model’s face would have us competing to rush in front of the camera and 'blow' it away. No Photoshop then and no allowance for mistakes. No digital photography.

Learning to speak Japanese fluently was a must and I put in the necessary study time. I practiced in the studio.

I was fortunate to travel on location with the photographer to Los Angeles, Guam, and Okinawa. As a native speaker, it was my job to arrange locations, model interviews, short-term apartments, and super-large motorhomes to keep everyone cool while traveling from one location to another. The designer, the hair/make-up guy, and someone providing the props came with us. Evenings were a good time to relax.

Back in the studio, working with the other six Japanese assistants was hard: starting at 8 o'clock every morning and not knowing what time we would finish in the evenings. Keeping dates after work was hard and living on ¥5,000 a day was a struggle. Quite often Saturday work as well. One time we worked from 8' o'clock in the morning until 8 o'clock. That was the next morning!

I have always enjoyed black and white photography and an appreciation of photographers who 'capture the moment'. This means getting involved with the scene to such an extent that it is possible to anticipate and wait for that moment. I was taught at college to have an 'opinion' which comes through in the picture. I was always pushed to have a political opinion (socialist), of course. Rather, I have a love of humanity. Armed with a camera and a smile allows the photographer to instantly communicate with complete strangers, anywhere in the world. Things are changing now, of course, and I would not dare photograph children, especially here in the U.K. I would also take care when photographing adults here without asking permission. By then the 'moment' has passed.

I am in a unique situation within Japan because I can speak the language which enables me to get into any situation and build up a relationship with the subject. Other foreigners have to make do with observing from a distance when they visit the country. Also, because I see everything as an outsider, it is quite different to how a Japanese photographer sees his own country and who might not pick up on, or be interested, in the same things that interest an 'outsider'. I am truly privileged to have this opportunity.

One other invaluable tip which I also got from time spent at Farnham was to see a photograph as a flat rectangular surface. Pretty obvious, of course, but important to get an appreciation and sense of composition by dividing that rectangle in so many ways. I was told to go out and photograph one object ( a park bench) in one hundred different ways from different angles. All in black and white. Then to examine all the shots one by one, getting rid of all but three. Then, re-examine the remainder and puzzle out why they worked. After that, go and repeat the process, taking another one hundred shots. Then choose one!

I repeated this exercise on several other subjects, one of which was a car. I can promise you that it gives a fantastic natural sense of composition within that rectangle. That sense will continue being useful, not just with objects, but with people, and brings an ability to use body shapes in the same way. Using arms, legs and heads, seeing them as shapes within the rectangle. People are halfway in the shot while others are on their way out. Or sitting in an incomplete circle.

Your journey from the U.K. to Japan and your experience in Osaka’s largest commercial studio sounds transformative. Can you share a specific moment or project during your time at Yamagishi Studio that significantly shaped your photographic style or philosophy?

Mr Yamagishi, himself, had a huge influence on me.To me, he represented so much of what I expected about Japan. Hard work, an inner strength and self control. While we, his assistants began to tire at eleven o'clock at night, he was ploughing on with what needed to be finished, whatever that time might be. We had absolute respect for him and his wife who was his manager. She had been a model and was known as the hardest and strongest at negotiating the best rate possible. Clients were very wary when they started to discuss money but they knew that they were getting the best. Mr Yamagishi stayed out of it. The only time that I saw him get upset was when the day's shoot, shot on transparency, was returned to the studio over the following day having been processed. The first few films (36 frames) were fine but as further films arrived there were back rectangles where model images should have been. This progressively got worse until all the films were black from beginning to end. I will always remember his loud and strong voice berating the technical team at Nikon (F3) after it was determined that it was the camera that was at fault. The next day two representatives of the company arrived first thing and were subjected to the same anger. They spent a lot of their visit bowing deeply over and over. The failure of the camera had led to a huge loss of face for Mr Yamagishi, whatever the cause. He had to apologise to the client, the art director and all those who had helped arrange and do the shoot. The whole thing had to be repeated. It was an outdoor model shoot using a foreign model based up in Tokyo. Nikon did try to make up for it by giving Mr Yamashi two brand new F3 cameras and related lenses. If word of the camera failure had become well known the camera company would have had a huge loss to its reputation.

The style of lighting was beautiful using a lot of reflected light but which showed a strong sense of where the main light was coming from. The sun. There were four huge/tall L shaped double boards which could widen, based on small wheels. The inside of each had a white polystyrene surface. A light was placed inside facing to the back and the open area of the boards were covered in tracing paper. The light therefore shone onto the white board and then reflected back towards the subject after passing through the tracing paper. Incredibly soft. A stronger directional main light was the daylight.

Most of the studio still life lighting was done with Tungsten lighting and just before the shot was taken, one of the assistants raised the light up to 100%. Model photos were done with flash.

You mentioned the unique perspective of being an outsider in Japan and how it influences your photography. Can you delve into a specific instance or subject that captivated you as an outsider and how it contrasts with how a Japanese photographer might approach it?

I learned a lot of patience, although this has always been my character. Perseverance, self control and extreme attention to detail. Also a very strong sense of light and shadow.

I was given eight pages in one of the largest magazines in Japan using my own fashion pictures and I keep several copies of that particular month's publication. The magazine was called 'Savvy' and it is still published every month even now.

Taking photos in Japan is great. Sitting in a coffee shop, the other day in Cambridge I reflected on how nervous I would be to take the same type of shots as I do in Japan. As foreigners there, we are forgiven for so many things in so many situations. There is such a gentle atmosphere. Of course, as a foreigner I look for situations and expressions arising around me and then catching them at the exact moment, much as many of the photographers from the past who I have always immensely admired. It is about getting into that world and anticipating what may happen but also being alert to capture something that comes out of nowhere. I am also able to interject myself into situations that Japanese might not be welcomed whereas foreigners such as myself are seen as a slight nuisance because of their ignorance of the Japanese way. Sorry to say, I do take advantage of this presumed ignorance and 'step on toes' . However, an apology in Japanese works wonders and quite often a lovely conversation follows. Their interest in me jumps up when I tell them that I am English. Britain seems to have a special place in their hearts and we often compare our countries and how close we feel. I am so privileged to have washed up on those shores and to have had such a wonderful experience and made so many close friends.

I don't think that Japanese take too much notice of expression. To express themselves visually is unusual and is restrained by self control. They don't wish to stand out from the crowd or be different. There is not much expression shown. Therefore I enjoy the challenge of capturing such rare expressions. They tend to live in their own worlds. In fact I would say that they lead quite lonely lives.

The exercise of photographing a single object in 100 different ways is fascinating. Can you share a memorable insight or breakthrough you had during one of these exercises, and how it has influenced your approach to composition in your later work?

I would say that the exercise of photographing one object over and over again has been so important for me. It is so satisfying to combine this sense of rectangle division with the subject and can manifest itself in so many ways.

Another useful exercise was to go into the Farham city centre and photograph 100 complete strangers. After a while the extreme shyness that I had at the beginning started to fade and it has been useful to me ever since. The college I attended was then called the West Surrey College of Art and Design. It has a new name now.

One further point that I learned was that there are two types of documentary pictures. I have mentioned that which involves staying sharply aware of what is going on around me and then capturing it. The other, which relates back to an earlier comment about having an opinion is where the photographer goes out with a pr-determined view on something and uses the camera in support of that view, whether it be social or political. By keeping these opinions in mind (having a point of view) the photographer subconsciously takes his photos in support of his opinion.

A further very important part of my photography is simplicity. This has been an important part of me. Simplicity enables clear thought. Fewer parameters allow stronger creativity. In life it is easier to make decisions after simplifying the options. Especially since living in Japan, I have developed a strong sense of keeping things simple. Five pairs of socks, underwear, shoes and shirts etc. as well as holding on to only what is basically necessary. Perhaps this was partly attained through the small size of the apartments that I have lived in over there. I have found it refreshing to restrict myself to few choices in the possessions that I have and by keeping things that are only necessary. I believe that this simplicity can carry on into art and photography as one is forced to use the tools available, to the maximum advantage pushing oneself to create more with less.

As all photographers do, I have spent so much time looking at the photographs that I have taken, trying to understand why they may or may not work. What it is about them that sets them apart. By doing so, I begin to understand myself and what it is within me that has led to that picture. Inevitably it leads to a sense of one's own opinion and once that path is understood a photographer can continue along it with more confidence. It is a truly wonderful form of artistic expression that can draw others into that world.

Charles Raymond Holland

Charles Raymond Holland (b. February 28, 1957) is a seasoned photographer whose career spans over four decades and two continents. He studied photography at the West Surrey College of Design in the UK from 1979 to 1981 before heading to Osaka, Japan, to take photos for a London-based color library. What began as a planned three-month stint turned into a 22-year immersion into Japanese culture and the photographic arts. In Osaka, he worked as an assistant to a top studio photographer, where he was one of six assistants and the only foreigner, gaining invaluable experience in commercial photography.

In 2003, Charles returned to Cambridge, UK, to marry and raise a family. Two decades later, in August 2023, he returned to Osaka with his children, who attended college there while he focused on documenting the vibrant cityscape. His current photographic work captures the essence of Osaka, with plans to self-publish a book in the coming year. Though currently in Cambridge, Charles is set to return to Japan in January 2025 to continue his photo project, blending his deep ties to both the UK and Japan into his unique photographic narrative.