My Unexpected Journey into Sushi Row
When I set out to do a photography project about what I considered the most beautiful food in the world, sushi, it never occurred to me that the story might change. I spent hours and hours figuring out a fresh way to photograph it, building a set with a large softbox and 25 different mirrors. But somewhere along the way, the story stopped being about the food and became about the people, and the drama of fighting to survive and make a name for yourself as a pioneer in the world of American sushi on Ventura Boulevard, on Sushi Row.
I met people, and I realized the book wasn't going to be called "Eating Art" after all. It was going to be called "Sushi Row."
Honestly, I was surprised that no one had written this book before. There were hundreds of articles, newspapers, magazines, blogs, foodies, and influencers all talking about this stretch of the San Fernando Valley. But after much research, the real magic turned out to be concentrated between Coldwater Canyon and Lankershim, where the density of sushi restaurants was higher than anywhere else in the world outside of Japan.
The problem was that most of the restaurant owners were suspicious. They assumed I was trying to sell them something or profit from them somehow, which was the furthest thing from the truth. I was simply doing a photography project. Of course, what I thought would take a year ended up taking three, partly because it sometimes took eight months just to get permission for a single photo shoot and interview.
There was one notable exception. I was never granted permission to interview anyone from the Nozawa family. They have a publicist who acts as a firewall, and they were the only restaurant operators who declined to participate in either an interview or a photo session. As it happens, they have also moved in a somewhat different direction from the individually owned and operated sushi restaurants that define the Row, though the family remains involved in at least one restaurant here.
From the beginning, I made a deliberate decision: each restaurant would choose its own dishes and presentation for the food photography. I didn't want to impose my opinion on what they selected or how they wanted it shown. After the food sessions, I went back to photograph the chefs and owners, which often required yet another visit. And then I returned again to shoot the interiors and exteriors. Over three years, I photographed twenty different restaurants. I even shot one twice, because a chef had moved from one restaurant to another, and it felt only fair to capture both, the new restaurant with that chef, and the original restaurant with whoever had stepped in.
The book is finally printed, and now it's time to make people aware of it: Sushi Row: Where America Fell in Love with Sushi.
