灯す
Light a wish
Write it with a brush pen. Fold it twice. Let the river take it from there. No one reads it — not even us.
Preparing the crossing. Loading the night.
An immersive summer night Kyoto, Japan
A festival at the edge of the other world
Once, every summer
For three nights each summer, a forgotten water shrine on the Kamo river opens its gates to the other side. Paper lanterns carry the wishes of strangers. The water carries everything else. A white fox keeps the gate; she has been waiting longer than the shrine.
Yūgen animates that crossing. A ninety-minute walk through hand-drawn worlds, generative light, and a live score performed on koto, field recordings and the river itself. There is no map. The lanterns know the way.
“We do not make a spectacle of the night.— Aiko Mori, creative director
We simply make room for it.”
You are not a spectator here. Each gate asks something small of you — a wish, a pause, a thing you no longer need to carry. Do all three and the night will remember your name.
灯す
Write it with a brush pen. Fold it twice. Let the river take it from there. No one reads it — not even us.
聴く
The koto is playing somewhere ahead. Walk toward it, or don’t. The river has a longer memory than any melody.
還る
A note, a key, a name you have outgrown. Place it at the gate of forgotten things. The water will keep it.
All three rituals are optional. The night will find you either way.
所作は、心のありか。The digital lantern
Every paper lantern begins as a wish. Write yours and we’ll set it adrift in our digital river, where it will glow until sunrise.
Your lantern is adrift
A small note on privacy: your wish stays in your browser. Nothing is sent, stored or read.
The evening unfolds in a gentle arc. Arrive when you like. Leave when the river tells you to.
A thousand hand-painted wishes released into the dark, one breath at a time.
Live koto and field recordings, composed with the river and performed beneath the moon.
One unopened lantern is saved all year. Tonight, we finally learn what it says.
The gates close. The water keeps its promises. We walk home a little lighter.