Chasing Clouds

I worked as a salaryman for ten years after graduating from Keio, but I went to Australia on a business trip and liked it so much that I quit my job and started wandering around by car.

The landscape was flat and didn't change no matter how many hours I drove, but I suddenly realized that the presence of the landscape was completely different just by having clouds. From then on, the camera that had been pointing down gradually started pointing up, and before I knew it, I had become a photographer of clouds and the sky.

Since I was living in a tent, I quickly noticed even small changes in the sky. That was interesting. I would stay outside all day, just staring at the sky. I spent about ten months moving whenever there were no clouds.

So you were literally chasing the clouds.

That's right. The first book I made from that was "The Color of the Sky." Thanks to its success, I was somehow able to make a living.

Once, while I was photographing a tree on a hill, the wind blew very hard and clouds kept flowing behind it. As I was thinking about the composition through the viewfinder, I realized, "Wait, it's not the tree I want to photograph, it's the background." From then on, my method changed to making the clouds the main subject and combining them with something else.

Even with the same sky scene in the same place, it's different after sunset compared to before dawn, for example; the colors might be inverted. It's fascinating how the scenery changes completely just by the expression of the sky changing. There are countless combinations of clouds and light, the color of the light, and things like evening colors or morning colors.

I think photographing the sky and clouds is very difficult in terms of how to crop the image and the timing. The look of the sky changes its expression in an instant.

There are times when I'm driving and I think, "That cloud looks interesting." Then, if I find something to combine it with, I stop. Usually, I'm excited at those moments, so I take the photo in a rush, thinking, "Wow, that's amazing!"

From there, I set up a tripod and think about the composition, but usually, I only use the very first shot. In short, I don't think and shoot; I feel the vibration. I think the most important thing is my own surprise.

It doesn't matter if the horizon is crooked. If the feeling that I wanted to take the photo is captured, it's better not to fix it. I often get scolded by other teachers for that, though (laughs).

Among photographers, some decide on the composition precisely and take a calculated shot, while others shoot intuitively.

When I started photography, clouds were not recognized as a subject at all. Photo books of them were only like illustrated reference books. It was an era when people said you would definitely fail if you entered them into a photo contest.

At that time, I changed my perspective a bit and took photos that weren't textbook-like at all—for example, a sky with a hole in it like a European religious painting, or shooting from underwater—and they were actually well-received by the general public. Not so much by my peers, though (laughs).

Miyamoto-san, do you take photos from a meteorological perspective?

I like clouds, but I'm probably a different type from Kentaro Araki; I like physics more, and I conduct research on the reasons why typhoons form. But I do take photos occasionally as an amateur.

The direct reason I aspired to meteorology was that during my time in the Faculty of Science and Technology, while I was working part-time at a scuba diving shop on an island during summer vacation, it happened to be the year with the most typhoons hitting Japan ever. So almost all the work was like typhoon countermeasures, and I started from wondering, "Why do typhoons come?"

Somehow, it's exciting when a storm comes, isn't it? The sky keeps changing, and when the evening light meets the rapidly changing sky, you can take incredible photos. That's why a clear day without a single cloud is the worst. I move on immediately (laughs).

Do you have a favorite type of cloud?

I suppose it's cumulonimbus clouds. I've also taken photos of them from above in an airplane.

Also, there are those island-like clouds lined up at the same height far away over the sea. I like those kinds of clouds and feel like photographing them.

Since I research ukiyo-e, I investigate various things depicted in them, and landscape is one of the very important themes in ukiyo-e.

If anything, the clouds in ukiyo-e are often depicted in quite non-realistic shapes rather than being drawn exactly as they appear in nature.

The clouds are very stylized, aren't they?

Yes. The easiest example to understand is this ukiyo-e by Utagawa Hiroshige. Even the composition is not realistic at all. It's a view of Mount Fuji from Suruga-cho, which is near the current Mitsukoshi Department Store slightly north of Nihonbashi. The part in the middle is a cloud. The colors are strange, with yellow at the bottom, a bit of blue at the top, and the sky looking slightly red.

Clouds in Japanese painting primarily have a decorative purpose. Rather than drawing the shapes as they appear in reality, they are elements to make the screen more gorgeous, and elements to omit the space between the foreground and the distant scenery—these two are the basic ways clouds are used. During the Edo period, realistic expressions of clouds gradually appeared, but there are still many decorative clouds.

But clouds have been depicted for a long time, haven't they?

Yes. Clouds themselves have been depicted since ancient times, even in the Heian period. However, in terms of usage, the religious element in Buddhist paintings is also quite strong. For example, Amida Nyorai is in the center, and various Bodhisattvas come from the Pure Land riding on clouds. This isn't just in Japan; in European Christian religious paintings, clouds also serve as a connection to the world of God.

Therefore, clouds have not necessarily been depicted as realistic nature. I think it was from the 19th or 20th century that they began to be depicted as beautiful nature.

Before ukiyo-e, were there many Buddhist expressions?

There are others as well. For example, there are the "Scenes in and around the Capital" screens, which depict the scenery of Kyoto from the Sengoku period to the early Edo period, showing the streets of Kyoto from high above. In the depiction looking down over all of Kyoto, the golden things between the houses are all clouds. It's like golden clouds are floating through the town of Kyoto.

Creating a decorative screen rather than drawing realistically is one major characteristic of Japanese art.

I wonder if the image people had of clouds at that time is reflected there. It seemed mysterious, or like a story of the heavenly world.

There is certainly religious mystery, but the awareness of seeing clouds themselves as something beautiful has existed since ancient times. In waka poetry, there is a sense of expressing the beauty of natural scenery as literature, such as composing poems about the shapes of clouds or how shadows are illuminated by clouds over the moon. In Sei Shonagon's "The Pillow Book," there are also passages that mention the beauty of clouds.

However, the sense of appreciating realistic clouds as a painting came closer to modern times, and I think the "beauty of clouds" was something quite conceptual.

In European religious paintings, angels descend, and for example, in those painted on church murals, clouds always play a decorative role.

Later, in the 18th century, there were British landscape paintings. Turner is famous, but a person named John Constable kept painting only the skies of Suffolk and was called the painter of the sky; his work is incredibly powerful.

That's right. As science developed in 18th-century Europe, people like Constable and Turner in Britain specifically saw natural beauty there. I think there was probably also a sense of seeing the world of God in nature, but the idea of capturing the beauty of nature as a painting emerged, and that likely spread to Japan later.

In terms of the sense of seeing clouds as beautiful, Japan might have felt it earlier in the world of waka poetry and such. On the other hand, in terms of preserving realistic clouds as a form, I feel that Europe, especially Britain, found that aesthetic sense first.

However, in the case of clouds, the shape changes after a short time. So, in both European and Japanese paintings, they are used as parts in a sense. Like decorative items to enhance the main subject.

Nowadays, anyone can take photos, so there are many social media posts showing photos of the sky. When I started, no one was taking photos of the sky. Now, because the sky is above everyone's head, it has become very popular as the easiest subject to photograph.

I think capturing clouds as a form is very different depending on whether you draw them as a picture or take them as a photo. In "Suisaiga no Shiori" (A Guide to Watercolor Painting), a textbook from the Meiji era, it says that drawing clouds in watercolor is difficult.

Mountains and trees don't move, so you can sketch them as they are, but clouds don't have the same shape for even a moment, so the shape in front of you keeps changing while you're trying to draw it.

On the other hand, regardless of the quality of the photo, people nowadays always carry a camera in their smartphones, so anyone can take a photo the moment they think a sky scene is interesting. In terms of expressiveness toward clouds and the sky, it's completely different.

Now, clouds are treated as one example of taking photos of flowers or familiar things. You can take them nearby without having to climb a mountain.

Also, videos of minor extreme weather are often uploaded to social media. I think this is convenient because you can see the disaster situation, rain situation, or cloud situation at various points.

It's not limited to disasters, but for the past few years, there has been a lot of talk about whether data taken by users without meteorological knowledge through social media or apps can be used for weather forecasting.

In reality, they aren't being used yet because of accuracy issues, but if that can be cleared, it would be a huge amount of manpower.

On TV weather forecasts, there are segments where they introduce photos sent in by viewers. I've been sent photos by TV stations a few times and asked, "Is this real?" Some of them are obviously processed no matter how you look at them.

Distinguishing that must be difficult.

In my opinion, clouds are not something you wait for and shoot; they are something you encounter. So, I'm often asked, "Do you wait?" but I say, "I don't wait." I move and encounter them, and then I think 'Wow' and take the photo. It's a repetition of that. Furthermore, erasing power lines is out of the question.

It seems there are apps now that can change a cloudy day into a sunny day (laughs).

Anything goes. Even changing the weather (laughs).

HABU-san mentioned earlier that he likes cumulonimbus clouds, and cumulonimbus clouds are unique among clouds. The Earth's atmosphere doesn't easily move air up and down. Most clouds spread out horizontally. Rising up vertically is a rare case and cannot happen without a special mechanism at work.

The key to that mechanism is that the bottom is warm and the air rises. That's why cumulonimbus clouds tend to form in the tropics or when the ground is warmed in summer.

How many meters tall is the largest cumulonimbus cloud?

The altitude goes up to the top of the troposphere (the tropopause).

There are some that stop at the stratosphere and flow horizontally. An "anvil cloud" is that kind of phenomenon, isn't it?

Exactly. When a growing cumulonimbus cloud reaches the top of the troposphere, it's about 15 kilometers, or 15,000 meters in total. Sometimes it's about 18,000 meters, but in Japan, it's about 12,000. When it gets there, it hits the top and has nowhere to go, so it takes the flat shape of an "anvil," which is why it's called an "anvil cloud."

Are there conditions for cumulonimbus clouds to form, such as high humidity?

Yes. High temperature and high humidity. The lower part is humid and keeps sucking up seawater and such.

During my Doctoral Programs, I spent about a month on an oceanographic research vessel at sea, and at that time, it was 360 degrees of ocean, literally like the sky on the horizon. Then, cumulonimbus clouds would form all over the place every day.

Is the mechanism for the occurrence of cumulonimbus clouds the same as the mechanism for the occurrence of typhoons?

They are very similar. It's important for air to move upward for typhoons as well, and since a typhoon is like an image of many cumulonimbus clouds gathered together, if it's overall hot and humid on a large enough scale for many cumulonimbus clouds to form, it's a very favorable environment. After that, they grow easily if some kind of vortex, or wind, comes.

In the stage of growth, a cumulonimbus cloud just keeps going up, aiming only for the top, but during that ascent, various processes occur within the cloud, and water droplets grow steadily. Eventually, those water droplets become large and heavy and fall, so rain falls to the ground. At that time, they drag the air down with them, so a downdraft, or downburst, occurs.

Looking at cumulonimbus clouds makes you feel excited, doesn't it? They move fast, so they're interesting to watch, and you wonder how far they'll go.

Also, there are things like altocumulus clouds, or sheep clouds. It's interesting when they are lined up like that and many small shadows are created by the light from above.

Listening to HABU-san, light and clouds are the keywords.

When the sun sets, sometimes a streak of light shoots across the eastern sky on the opposite side. I wonder what that's all about. When streaks of light peek through gaps in the clouds, it's called 'Angel's Ladder' (crepuscular rays), and those are quite cool and beautiful too.

Light is essential to the beauty of clouds and the sky, isn't it?

That's true. I also love it when light is pouring down across the sky, yet it's raining in only one specific part of the ocean.

Lately, there have been many instances of torrential rain. What is the mechanism behind that?

The fine details get a bit complicated, but roughly speaking, I think a major factor is the increasing amount of water vapor in the atmosphere.

Warmer air can hold more water vapor; you can imagine it like a larger sponge. Compared to the past, the size of the 'sponge' has grown. And when something triggers it and it starts to be squeezed tight, a huge amount of water comes out.

Does that mean the clouds themselves are getting bigger?

Probably so, but rather than just size, I think the clouds are becoming 'stronger.' The strength of a cloud can be expressed by the speed of the vertical flow inside it and the amount of water it holds. As global warming continues, this trend will persist, so I expect the frequency of heavy rain will continue to increase in the future.

I have the impression that localized 'guerrilla rainstorms' have increased compared to the past. Is there a reason why it's becoming so localized, rather than just the overall temperature rising?

Rain from individual clouds certainly pours down heavily because the 'sponge' is large, but as clouds form, the airflow around them also changes. When a cloud forms, it begins to warm the surrounding air. It's the opposite of 'uchimizu' (sprinkling water to cool down)—the opposite of the heat of vaporization. When you feel a chill after a bath, it's because the water droplets on your skin evaporate and cool you down, but here the opposite phenomenon is occurring. Water vapor that was evaporated turns into liquid, so it tries to warm the surroundings.

Warmed air is light, so it floats upward, affecting the surroundings and causing more and more clouds to gather. When two clouds come together like that, the rainfall naturally doubles. If they gather even more, they power up in more complex ways. We use the term 'organization,' and it may be that clouds are becoming easier to organize. Linear precipitation zones are an example of that.

So the movement of the atmosphere as a whole is becoming more and more active.

Since the way clouds form has become more intense, I think the vertical movement has become more active. Conversely, without clouds, air hardly moves vertically at all. It just blows horizontally at the same altitude like a jet stream, but thanks to clouds, air moves up and down.

Is it like the movement of the atmosphere is being stirred up?

Exactly. You could say a cumulonimbus cloud is a tool for stirring; the very purpose of its existence is to stir the atmosphere. Because the air near the ground is too hot compared to the upper atmosphere, the system 'dislikes' that temperature difference and wants to mix it. It's as if the cloud is there for that purpose.

It's often said that you can tell future weather movements by the shape of the clouds, but how much can you actually tell?

It has been said since ancient times that 'with this cloud shape, it's about to rain,' and in fact, those predictions are often quite accurate.

Weather forecasting is very precise nowadays, but no one has yet verified exactly how much can be predicted based solely on the visual shape of clouds.

Even in the Edo period, there were books like 'Tsuki Zukai' that suggested what kind of weather would follow certain cloud shapes. I don't know how scientific they were, though.

On the other hand, even today, the current NHK morning drama 'Okaeri Mone' features a protagonist who wants to be a weather forecaster, and there are scenes where fishermen and foresters know from experience that the weather is about to turn bad. I often wonder how much can actually be understood specifically from the shape of the clouds.

For example, with a cumulonimbus cloud, you can see it and think, 'This looks a bit bad.' The difficult part is that there are many cases where the weather eventually turns bad even when the clouds don't look that billowy.

In drama scenes, it's like, 'The weather hasn't broken at all yet, but it'll turn bad in the afternoon' (laughs). Is there scientific backing for interpreting cloud shapes?

Yes. While it's based on empirical rules, many of them are scientifically sound. To change the subject slightly, modern weather forecasting is done by solving equations based on scientific knowledge using computers, and it's becoming possible to predict the gathering of cumulonimbus clouds with a certain degree of accuracy. The primary goal is to predict things like cumulonimbus clouds that are directly linked to disasters.

On the other hand, it's difficult for current weather forecasts to predict the kind of small, fluffy clouds lined up that HABU-san likes. In fact, there isn't much scientific evidence for exactly when the weather will break just because those appear; they are simply perceived as one type of omen. I think the presence of those types of clouds suggests a sequence where cumulonimbus clouds form hours later and eventually bring rain.

One of the students in my lab is actually researching how people in the past thought about the weather. They are currently focusing on the Muromachi period, but they're struggling because there isn't much information.

You hardly hear about it in the Muromachi period, but many agricultural books were produced in the Edo period. Naturally, weather and seasons were extremely important factors, so I imagine people who made a living from agriculture, which had a deep connection with nature, had a high awareness of the weather.

I haven't researched the fishing industry much, but I don't have the impression that there are as many records compared to agricultural books.

Were cumulonimbus clouds and the like often depicted in ukiyo-e?

I'm not sure if they can be called cumulonimbus, but for example, in a painting of Ryogoku Bridge over the Sumida River by Shotei Hokuju, a disciple of Katsushika Hokusai, there is a depiction of billowy clouds. This is from the 19th century, an era when copperplate engravings were being introduced from the West.

The awareness of depicting realistic landscapes was transmitted through art, so they imitated it by using perspective, and if you look closely, there are even shadows at the bridge. They were trying to incorporate Western-style expressions into ukiyo-e, where light hits an object and creates a shadow. This is an example of how new ways of drawing clouds were born.

Does that mean the expression became a bit more realistic?

Yes. I think the awareness of trying to draw clouds realistically gradually emerged toward the end of the Edo period.

Was it mostly Hokusai and Hiroshige who depicted clouds and the sky in ukiyo-e?

Since Hiroshige and Hokusai produced many landscape works, the sky was naturally depicted often in their work. However, when it comes to unusual or somewhat realistic clouds, the ukiyo-e artist Kuniyoshi also drew unique clouds.

As we move into the Meiji era, clouds began to be depicted quite realistically. In the ukiyo-e prints of Kobayashi Kiyochika around Meiji 12 (1879), the landscape expression becomes quite realistic. I think whether or not an awareness of light emerges is quite important in expressing clouds.

Ukiyo-e lacks shading, and there was little awareness of expressing things like sunlight. That changed as they began to incorporate such expressions under European influence. As HABU-san mentioned, light is very important in expressing clouds.

Photography is interesting because, unlike painting, it captures a moment of chance, isn't it?

That's true. Clouds change their shape in an instant.

When you draw them in a painting, they can lose their realism or naturalness.

It's wonderful that no two things are ever the same. Usually, when I'm traveling, I decide where to take photos in the evening, eat my meal, and then shoot until sunset.

Is the evening when you can take the most beautiful photos?

The highlight is the evening. The sky changes moment by moment, and if the wind happens to be blowing nicely, the clouds drift into various shapes, and the way the light hits them changes each time. In the end, it's about the combination—like the sunset reflecting beautifully on mackerel clouds.

Have you ever seen a green cloud?

I've heard of them, but I've never seen one. They appear above the horizon, right?

What kind of phenomenon is that?

It's called a green flash. The color of the sky changes because sunlight originally contains rainbow components, and the color is determined by how much atmosphere the sunlight has passed through before reaching that point. During the day, it's blue because the sun is directly overhead and the distance is short, but in the evening or morning, the distance becomes longer, so the blue disappears and red remains—but there should be green in between.

It's a very rare phenomenon where a bit of green appears for just a moment.

I haven't seen that, but in the flat lands of Western Australia, I often see clouds I've never seen before. Like when it's raining everywhere except right above the road, making it look like a picture frame.

I take photos of clouds in Japan too, but in my neighborhood, there are too many obstacles like power lines. Australia is great because there's nothing. On a cloudless day, if you look 360 degrees, you can see places that look somewhat hazy. I've driven 400 kilometers toward a spot like that, thinking there might be clouds there. I've been doing things like that for about 30 years. It's fun, chasing clouds.

A wide sky is wonderful. When I was a student, I studied abroad in Oklahoma in the US for a year. It's famous for tornadoes, and it really felt like there was nothing but the sky and the plains.

There are people called 'tornado chasers' who chase tornadoes for business; they wait in their cars, and when a tornado is about to appear, they chase it, film it, and make a living by selling the footage to TV stations.

For some reason, those people always manage to find the tornadoes.

Do they predict the tornadoes and then chase them?

They might be looking at radar, but since the data isn't that precise, maybe it's intuition. Tornadoes almost certainly form under a 'parent cloud,' which is an even more powerful version of a cumulonimbus cloud, so the challenge is whether you can capture that parent cloud.

Speaking of Australia, do you know about the Morning Glory?

Yes. It's like white mist in a roll shape, spreading out horizontally. I think I actually drove into one once.

Is that so? (laughs)

When you're driving, suddenly your visibility drops to about 50 centimeters.

Is it a downpour of rain?

No, it's not raining. You just suddenly enter a very thick fog. Unless you're quite far away, you can't tell how big it is.

That sounds dangerous in a car. Is the Morning Glory a cloud?

I think it's like a mist. If you were to classify it, would it be a cloud?

Even when we say "clouds," they come in many sizes. The true nature of a cloud is water droplets or ice particles, but a newly formed cloud is about 0.01 mm or 10 microns—thinner than a human hair and incredibly small.

However, when they become falling cloud particles or raindrops, they grow to several millimeters, which is about 100 times larger than a newly formed cloud particle. So, even in the same cumulonimbus cloud, what was the size of a marble in the newly formed part becomes the size of a giant ball used in a ball-rolling race by the time it falls.

The particles in a Morning Glory are probably about the size of a newly formed cloud. About the same as mist. Also, the size of the sand particles kicked up in a dust storm isn't that different. If you were to go inside one, you probably wouldn't be able to see anything at all, so it would be so intense that you wouldn't know if it was mist or a sandstorm.

Well, there really are many surprising natural phenomena that I've never experienced before. Truly.

Are there more students now who are interested in meteorology or want to become weather forecasters?

Yes. The number is increasing every year, and many people are motivated by environmental issues. Others are interested in renewable energy and disaster prevention. My lab currently has about 40 people, including graduate students.

At the start of our seminars, we set aside time for "sky observation." Since we are online now, I have them go outside their homes and report on the sky conditions in their respective areas.

For weather forecasters, taking a photo inevitably becomes a form of recording. I recently had a conversation with Mai Kikuchi, a Keio alumna and weather forecaster, and she asked me, "How can I take photos like this?" I told her not to think when she takes them. If you think, the fact that you're overthinking inevitably shows up in the photo. I told her to just take the picture if she thinks it's beautiful.

When we see a cloud, we first think about which of the ten cloud genera it belongs to. We also focus on academic aspects, like how much cloud cover there is across the entire sky.

But it seems like it would be good to have students capture and report things they find "beautiful" at first glance. It would help cultivate their sensory perception as well.

The Meiji-era textbook I mentioned earlier, "Suisaiga no Shiori" (Guide to Watercolors), also features the concept of the ten cloud genera.

Is that so?

It was published in 1901, and it says things like, "Cloud shapes can be divided into ten types, and for this type of cloud shape, use this color." Since they had to sketch what they saw, it was probably necessary to record the shapes using not just sensory perception but academic and conceptual knowledge as well.

After all, artistic beauty and science are never truly divided into two; they have commonalities, and I believe their relationship is deep.

I've been photographing clouds for over 30 years, and I never get tired of it. No matter how many I take, it's never the same, and there are always new discoveries. I feel like I can keep photographing them for the rest of my life.

Perhaps clouds are exactly where science and art intersect. Science and art are often thought of as opposites, but I believe it's better to mix them, so I intend to stay interested in many different things.