A Journey Through the Hidden Beauty of the Oki Islands #1

Oki Island, a tranquil gem in the Sea of Japan, offers an idyllic escape where the rhythms of nature and life dance in harmony. Captured through the lens of Australian artist and photographer Sarah Jessica Marie Burns, this photo essay unveils the island's hidden beauty. Known for her sentimental eye, Sarah’s work weaves together the poetry of architecture and the natural world, inviting viewers to experience Oki’s timeless landscapes and the stories embedded in its quiet corners. Through her lens, we are transported to a place where simplicity meets serenity, and every moment becomes a piece of art.

■How and why did you end up on the Oki Islands?

I have always been drawn to faraway places— islands most of all. Quiet places, where nature leads and life feels simpler. Where the modern world fades, and something deeper begins to awaken. That’s where I feel most at peace.

Reaching the Oki Islands felt like drifting into a dream—sailing across the Sea of Japan, toward ancient isles that seem untouched by time. Snow was falling into the sea, a graceful dance between earth and sky. It was remote, grounded, and full of beauty. I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Our ferry journey was unlike any I’ve taken before. The traditional Japanese rooms on board were still and quiet, inviting a sense of calm as the waves passed by. It became almost like a meditation in motion. I lay on the floor, watching the world float past, feeling a shared stillness with the other travelers beside me. A beautiful reminder that rest—in its purest form—can be found in the simplest places.

And so, that’s how we arrived at Entô. Guided by intuition, drawn by a longing for slowness, and carried by the sea.

■How did you spend your time during your stay and what did you experience during your stay?

We spent our time in awe, held by the stillness of the Oki Islands and the gentle hospitality of Entô エントウ. Mornings unfolded slowly, before sun, as snow drifted into the sea and the world outside softened into a haze of sky and water. From our window, flakes melted into the ocean—a beautiful pause before the day began.

Each moment felt intentional. A traditional Japanese breakfast became a quiet ritual—I remember the warmth and care shared over coffee while a lone fisherman passed by in his boat. The rhythm of life here is unhurried, instinctive. We walked through snow-covered paths, sharing quiet conversations that felt as nourishing as the meals.

We visited a shrine, where centuries of devotion echoed in the silence. We were invited to a special tea ceremony, a moment of presence and grace. By chance, we happened to be there during a celebration day—witnessing the community come together as they always do, in connection and joy.

We explored a boat-building workshop, where hands shape tradition into form, and spent time with a local potter whose clay creations evoke textiles—softness painted with earth. These encounters grounded us in the soul of the islands, revealing stories told not in words, but in craft, in gesture, in warmth.

The glass windows of Entô framed it all—sea and snow, boats and sky—like shifting artwork.

The architecture dissolved into the landscape, inviting us to pause and breathe. In the company of our dear friend at Entô, we learned the deep geological and cultural history of the Oki Islands—a fragile, enduring land shaped by volcanic fire, snow, and sea.

Evenings were a continuation of the story—each dish at Entô a quiet conversation with the land. Culinary poetry, plated with care. One dish arrived in a vessel mended by kintsugi, reminding us that beauty lives in the broken, in what is tended to with love.

There were no screens. No noise. Just the rhythm of tide and light.

We spent our time being present. And the islands gave us everything we could imagine, and more.