The exhibition will run from May 30 (Saturday) through June 26 (Friday), 2026.

This year, photographers from Japan and around the world have once again contributed works exploring the theme of Oyako—the bond between parent and child.

Afghanistan, Cambodia, Canada, the Czech Republic, Gaza, Iran, Japan, Poland, Syria, Ukraine, the United States, and Vietnam.

Though cultures, religions, environments, and ways of life may differ, each photograph reveals something universal: the time shared between parent and child, and the continuity of life itself.

“Oyako transcends borders, cultures, and religions—it is a universal language.”

At a time when conflict and division continue in many parts of the world, we hope this exhibition will encourage visitors to reflect on the everyday lives of families and the enduring connections that sustain us.

As many families, as many stories.

We hope that the parent-child relationships captured in these photographs will resonate with you in a meaningful way.

Exhibition Dates

May 30 (Sat) – June 26 (Fri), 2026

Venue

Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Japan (FCCJ)

Opening Hours

Weekdays: 10:00 a.m. – 8:00 p.m.
Saturday: Open from the afternoon
Closed on Sundays and public holidays

Exhibition Details

https://www.fccj.or.jp/exhibition

A reception with participating photographers will also be held on Thursday, June 4.

If you would like to attend, please register by email:

E-mail: staff@oyako.org

We look forward to welcoming you.

The post 7th Oyako Photo Matsuri – As Many Stories as There are Families – appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

The Tokyo exhibition is being held at the Tokyo Photographic Art Museum from May 27 (Wed) through June 5 (Fri).
It will be followed by the Kansai exhibition, taking place at the Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art Annex from June 9 (Tue) through June 14 (Sun).

For details, please visit:
https://www.jps.gr.jp/jpsten2026_session/

Bruce Osborn is also exhibiting as a member of JPS.

His selected work this year comes from the Flying series.

Reverberation

A discarded trash bin,
having fulfilled its purpose,
drifts through the air,
carrying with it the memories of people
and the scent of the city.
The reverberations of urban life
echo into the sky.

Flying is a photographic series that explores the moment of departure for objects created to serve people after their original purpose has come to an end.

If you are in the area, we hope you will stop by and visit the exhibition.

The post JPS Exhibition Now Open appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

When I was in the first year of junior high school, my father took me to a packed screening of Elvis on Stage at the Marunouchi Piccadilly. That was my first encounter with Elvis. At the time, I thought I was just going to see a movie about some rock star from the past. What appeared on the screen, however, was something entirely different.

Dressed in a white jumpsuit, drenched in sweat, Elvis sang, electrified the audience, and seized control of the entire room in an instant. More than his extraordinary voice, it was the sheer force of his presence as a star that overwhelmed me. From that day on, I immersed myself in rock, soul, and pop music. Without question, Elvis was the starting point of my lifelong love of music. And that was nearly half a century ago.

Now Elvis has returned—on an IMAX screen, restored in stunning high resolution with extraordinary sound. That alone was enough to move me deeply.

But this film is much more than a collection of concert footage. Through the dynamic editing style of Baz Luhrmann, Elvis’s own voice serves as the narrative thread, weaving together childhood memories, private footage, and archival material as it traces the journey that led him to the grand stages of Las Vegas. This structure—allowing Elvis to tell his own story—is invaluable. It feels almost like a documentary extension of Luhrmann’s earlier film, Elvis, deepening and enriching its perspective.

The archival footage itself is astonishing. Fans may recognize some of the famous scenes, but what truly surprised me was the wealth of previously unseen material. Drawn from fifty hours of unreleased film and meticulously restored in 4K, performance after performance unfolds before us. A fleeting smile, a glance toward the audience, the smallest gesture of movement—all feel startlingly immediate, as though they had been filmed yesterday.

And then there is the sound. The sound is magnificent.

Not only Elvis’s voice, but also the harmonies of The Sweet Inspirations, the guitar work of James Burton and his fellow musicians, and the powerful orchestral arrangements are rendered with remarkable clarity and separation. In the latter half of the concert, as the music leans more heavily into gospel, the performances become overwhelming. It was impossible not to feel chills.

What struck me most was the realization that an Elvis concert was never simply a rock show. It was a vast musical experience that embraced gospel, R&B, country, and showmanship all at once.

The IMAX run may be over, but I already want to see it again in a regular theater.

The Elvis who pulled my thirteen-year-old self into the world of music nearly fifty years ago remains, even now, someone truly special.

The post EPIC: Elvis Presley in Concert appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

The Home to Which the Noise Returns

There came a day when I stopped going on family trips.
I had been glued to my desk preparing for university entrance exams… or perhaps, I had just come up with that excuse.
The truth was, I simply couldn’t find a reason to go to noisy places with my family anymore.

— In other words, I longed for silence.

My family silently accepted it. Gradually, the number of trips they took without me increased.
They must have sensed that I was yearning for “serenity.”

In my house, silence never truly existed.
The TV was always on, laughter shook the walls, the ventilation fan hummed, and the air conditioner groaned.
Even if I curled up in the furthest corner of the house, the noise would follow me.

— However, when my family was gone, silence would unexpectedly arrive.
A silence so empty it felt almost unnatural.
The body left behind in the stillness experienced a strange sense of liberation.
The air spreading from corner to corner of the room didn’t clear with a “shh” but instead carried a tension, as if it were on the verge of snapping. I tried to merge with it.

I wanted to live in that stillness forever.

…That was my feeling for the first three hours.

Soon, the silence turned into a ringing in my ears, summoning phantom sounds that gnawed at my mind.
I started feeling ill, and in the end, I turned on the TV and played music…

— Ah, please come back.

When the door opened, the noise rushed in.
Laughter bounced through the air, the clinking of dishes echoed, and the TV blared noisily.
I frowned, but deep inside, I felt relieved.

The stillness certainly comforted me.
But it was the noise that connected me to something.

I hear there is something called “OYAKO Day.”
I want to celebrate that day not as a day to give flowers or exchange special words, but simply—
as a day to truly appreciate the value of the noise.

The discomfort of being alone.
The disharmony born from the interactions between parent and child.
That disharmony is my life, my comfort,
— and the place to which I belong.

by Nao Sasaki / age: 22 / Ebina City, Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan

The post “The Home to Which the Noise Returns” appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

We look forward to seeing your wonderful photographs. Everyone is warmly encouraged to join and participate!

The post Photo Contest 2026 appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

We look forward to reading your heartfelt stories. Everyone is warmly encouraged to take part!

The post Essay Contest 2026 appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

Please stay tuned just a little longer until voting opens!

The post Oyako Taisho 2026 appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

The post Super Photo Session 2026 appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

7th Oyako Photo Festival 2026

— As Many Stories as There Are Families —

A collection of parent-and-child photographs submitted by photographers from Japan and around the world will be brought together in a special exhibition celebrating the many forms of family and connection.

Dates: May 30 (Sat) – June 26 (Fri), 2026
Venue: Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Japan (FCCJ)
https://www.fccj.or.jp/

Hours: 10:00 a.m. – 8:00 p.m.
(Closed on Sundays and public holidays)

The post Oyako Matsuri 2026 appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.

The film opens with “Chapter Three.” The world is heading toward collapse. Earthquakes, tsunamis, forest fires—catastrophe after catastrophe unfolds. Then mysterious billboards begin appearing across town:

“Thank you, Chuck.”

A sudden expression of gratitude toward a man nobody seems to know.

What is this?

At first, I assumed it was going to be some kind of global-scale disaster movie. But then the film quietly flips itself inside out. As the chapters count backward—from Three to Two to One—we begin tracing Chuck’s youth, and the mystery slowly unravels.

The “end of the world” turns out to be the end of one ordinary man’s life.

The 39 years of memories belonging to a man named Chuck—that tiny personal universe—is revealed to be equal in scale to a dying planet.

And that is something universal, something that will come for every one of us eventually.

What struck me most deeply was that the film is not about dreams fulfilled, but dreams left unrealized. The things every life quietly lets go of without even noticing. The movie neither condemns nor comforts us for this. It simply places that truth gently before us. And somehow, that sadness catches you off guard.

The characters, too, appear unrelated at first glance, yet are secretly connected by thin invisible threads. Life itself is like that, the film quietly suggests. And when Mark Hamill appears onscreen, visibly aged, the passage of time suddenly transcends fiction and overlaps with the audience’s own sense of years lived.

I was astonished that a writer nearing eighty could still possess this level of creative vitality.

This is not the kind of film where you walk out saying, “That was fun!” without hesitation. But perhaps that is precisely proof of its depth.

Among the human dramas adapted from Stephen King’s works, this has become one I won’t soon forget.

The post Thank You, Chuck — A Quiet Masterpiece That Slowly Sinks In: A Microcosm Called Life appeared first on 「親子の日」Oyako Day.