Nestled in Kyoto’s serene northwestern quarter, Imamiya Otabisho— a temporary resting place for the shrine’s sacred mikoshi—embodies a powerful blend of ritual gravitas and poetic transience. Rebuilt during the late Edo era after a devastating fire, this space plays a steadfast role each May, when three portable shrines converge here during the centuries-old Imamiya Festival, and godly energies briefly mingle with everyday life.

Yet in the hands of artist and caretaker Nozomi Shiga, this space has taken on a second life. Part darkroom, part community meeting point, part silent witness to centuries of ritual, the Otabisho has become a place where sacred boundaries soften. Here, festival drums and photographic
prints share the same air, where local elders drop by for casual chats, and where visiting artists find themselves working under the gaze of the unseen. It is not so much a studio or a shrine, but a rare in-between: a place for living with the kami.

Imamiya Otabisho and Nozomi Shiga’s evolving practice form an extraordinary narrative arc — a meditation on how a place can be both sanctuary and studio, ceremony and sanctuary, inviting us to experience the soft boundaries that shape our shared heritage.

Entering this hallowed precinct, one senses more than architecture. The rustling of ginkgo trees, the scent of aburi-mochi wafting in from nearby shops founded in the 11th century, and the presence of Ahokashi-san—a mystical stone said to grant wishes or hasten healing—evoke a space where the sacred and the communal meet.

At the heart of this liminal domain is Nozomi Shiga, the photographer and caretaker who has reimagined a former “ordinary” Japanese-style room as a working darkroom, adapting traditional architecture with earthen walls and antique beams. Shiga’s practice—built on dialogue with local
craftspeople and lived ritual—reflects a deep reverence for space. Whether overseeing festival preparations or curating photo exhibitions within the Otabisho, her work gently dissolves the boundaries between everyday life and ritual, place and memory.

Gigi: What led you to create this darkroom, and what is the renovation process?

Nozomi: The darkroom is used by various people who come to visit. While it is being used, I wait in the adjacent Japanese-style room so that I can assist if needed. Before using this room, I replaced the tatami mats. The renovation of the Otabisho was carried out together with Mr. Iwamoto, a carpenter and plaster craftsman. We began by transforming one of the Japanese-style rooms into a darkroom. Following Mr. Iwamoto’s suggestion, we stripped away the veneer and plywood that gave the entrance a generic feel, exposing the original beams and ceiling. We restored the walls to traditional earthen plaster. Most of the darkroom equipment was relocated from an existing darkroom I had before. After hearing about Studio Ausgang’s activities, I received a larger version of a colour processor—a machine I originally owned in a smaller size—from someone who teaches at a nearby university.

Gigi: An Otabisho is a temporary resting place for a deity, but also…

Nozomi: It is an essential place for festivals held by the shrine. Within it are the feelings of the shrine staff, the local residents, and people drawn to it for its cultural value. Yet for most of the year, it remains unoccupied. Even though it’s unoccupied most of the time, it doesn’t mean you can do whatever you like with it. At the same time, if it isn’t actively used to some extent, it will decay. There are no specific rules or agreements in place, which is why it’s important to move forward carefully, valuing people’s feelings. Otherwise, we risk losing the trust of those around us. And if we do nothing, we end up betraying their expectations. In particular, we decline requests for commercial use.

Revitalising the Otabisho — Imamiya Festival × Kyoto Graphie

Nozomi: Starting last year, we began participating in a satellite event of Kyotographie that happens to coincide with the Imamiya Festival, using this space as a venue for a photo exhibition. 

To ensure it doesn’t become a commercial exhibition, Studio Ausgang participates only in the role of supporting the exhibiting artists. For visitors who come to see the photo exhibition, we hope it becomes an opportunity to learn about this place and the festival. At the same time, we hope it prompts local residents to think more about the potential of this site. Cultural events like KYOTOGRAPHIE can breathe new life into the Otabisho.