Naoko Ohta, Commissioner, “Tokyo-ga” photography project

Taking in reality as it exists here and now, in its entire scope—that’s not as simple as it sounds. Too often our eyes behold not what is really before us, but some substitute that has been altered to be more in line with what we want to see. To see accurately—and to do it, moreover, with focus and detail—is a task that in actuality demands sophisticated powers of observation and thought. When a photographer is able to act as a trustworthy eye and capture, accept, and click the shutter on what is there no matter how inconvenient or improper it might be, only then can his works begin to acquire their own place and connect the things that should be seen with the people who should see.

A photograph comes into being when we extract a subject out from the world around us. Past photographers expended much energy on removing visual noise and other accidental elements from their images. Technological improvements soon rendered picture clarity a given, however, and the standards for judging photographic quality accordingly shifted to become more concerned with the nature and subject of the photographer’s gaze.

To me, the quality of a photograph has to do with the photographer's sincerity toward the act of seeing. The measure is how he responds to what he faces out there in front of him, “noise” and all. Indeed, in a sense a photographer’s handling of noise might even represent the greatest expression of his originality.

The four artists introduced here grapple with this issue of noise each individually in ways that clearly highlight his aesthetics, convictions, and creative stance. With the advancement of digital technology, controlling noise is becoming easier than ever. The time has come for us to stop and think anew about how we should approach photography in order to keep trust alive in the medium, now and for all time.

Junpei Kato: Skin
By picking up on tiny signs of weathering and fading that might easily be missed by the naked eye, Kato lets us trace the progression of aging on the outer “skin” of these manmade structures. How much can something wear down and still pass as being in “good” condition versus not? The images may appear neat and squared away at first, but upon deeper inspection they inspire growing unease—not least because they seem to expose the dubiousness and arbitrariness of the very yardsticks dominating today’s society.

Taishi Hirokawa: Time and Tide
In some respects, Time and Tide is like a model for demonstrating how subtle variations between what seem to be very similar images may actually reflect vastly differing conditions. The sun and moon, the quality and strength of their rays—the series makes us understand that how such things are captured depends indeed on the perceptions and judgments of the individual doing the viewing.

Mitsugu Ohnishi: Sunamachi
These vividly colorful portraits capture the present of Sunamachi, an old working-class neighborhood down by Tokyo Bay. The brilliant flood of hues totally sweeps away any notion of the romantic nostalgia stereotypically associated with these more established sections of Tokyo, instead bringing out the energy of an area very much alive in the here and now. The neighborhood opens out before Ohnishi’s gaze, as if in powerful affirmation of the hold this setting will continue to have on him into the future.

Kosuke Okahara: Vanishing Existence
From out of the quiet frames, the truth about the lives of these residents of Chinese lepers’ villages comes forth with heartrending intensity. In documentary photography, each single image forms a crucial component of what all come together to give tangible shape to a certain truth. No matter how wretched their circumstances, though, humans deserve to be photographed with respect for their dignity. In that regard, Vanishing Existence is a truly noble piece of work.

( Translated by Chikako Imoto )

“Tokyo-ga” website