A (Tokyo) Taxi Driver

I caught this frame mid-morning, in Tokyo’s Minato ward, just as the light turned hard and directional. The geometry of the taxi stopped at a crossing gave me a textbook profile—clean lines, bold colour, and a perfectly lit subject behind glass. But it’s the stillness that made me press the shutter. The driver, upright, masked, motionless, waiting. Not just for the green light, but within his own geometry of routine.

This is a city known for velocity, and yet here he sits—disciplined, stoic, almost ceremonial in posture. The orange livery and chequered band recall a different decade, and with the crisp white gloves and lace seat covers, the car itself feels preserved, almost curated. I leaned into that by keeping the frame tight and flat, avoiding depth to reinforce the sense of compression.

Technically, the shot relied on the light. I underexposed slightly to keep detail in the orange panels and avoid blowing out the driver’s shirt. The reflections are deliberate—they mirror Tokyo’s verticality, giving another layer to an otherwise lateral composition. Shot handheld, 1/250 at f/5.6, ISO 200. Nothing fancy—just correct.

The real work was in the framing. The driver’s head falls on a third, and the vertical lines of the doorframe and signage lock him in. No cropping needed—this was composed in-camera. What I wanted was a formal portrait without formal consent. Not voyeurism. Just observation.

It’s a photo of service, of quiet dignity, of precision without spectacle. In a city that never stops, this was a moment that stood still long enough to be noticed.