In a journey that bridges continents and generations, Ariko Inaoka has found a unique connection to Iceland, chronicling the early lives of identical twin girls while carrying forward one of Kyoto’s oldest culinary traditions.
Portraits within Iceland’s landscape
Born in Kyoto in 1975, Inaoka’s path in photography began after studying in the United States and New York. After a period working in fashion imagery across Paris, London and Japan, she encountered a remarkable set of twins in Iceland in 2006 and felt something she later described as a spark for her creativity.
The twins, Erna and Hrefna, their names mean “eagle” and “raven” in Icelandic, were only nine years old when Inaoka started photographing them in 2009. Their tight bond and an almost ‘telepathic’ understanding between the sisters fascinated her. Over the next eight years, her camera returned again and again to their lives, capturing their growth and closeness in a quietly evolving project that stretched into 2017.
Inaoka’s ongoing work with the twins built a bridge between distant cultures, focusing not on spectacle but on the subtle rhythms of childhood and kinship as seen through her lens. Alongside this celebrated series, she has photographed landscapes and travellers, positioning herself as a thoughtful observer of both people and place.
Tradition from Kyoto to Iceland
After more than a decade away, Inaoka returned to her home city of Kyoto in 2011. There she took over as the sixteenth proprietor of Honke Owariya, a soba noodle restaurant that has been run by her family since 1465. With each generation, the role has passed from parent to child, making the restaurant a living thread of Kyoto’s history and possibly the oldest soba house in Japan.
Even as she oversees this storied establishment, Inaoka continues to share her perspective through photography. Her work has been shown in exhibitions from Japan and Taiwan to Belgium and Spain, and appears in several published books, including a photographic account of her years with the twins.
Inaoka’s unusual cross-cultural journey, linking Kyoto’s deep-rooted local history to Iceland’s windswept landscapes, offers an example of how personal vision can find common ground in even the most distant places.
