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Item Nr. 10012
Los Angeles
Why did you take photographs in Japan?
That had to do with a work I had done in Los Angeles before that. I suddenly realized that the supposedly secondary things in my pictures captivated me more than the main thing.
Can you give an example?
A shopping trolley with the belongings of a homeless person in the centre of a picture was suddenly less interesting than the structure of a wall in the background.
What did this mean for you?
The consideration of how much I can reduce the content of an image without it ceasing to function for me as a photographic image.
That means?
That it has tension and holds and captivates my attention. I subsequently studied painters such as Kazimir Malevich, Agnes Martin and Robert Ryman very intensively and asked myself whether it was possible to realize the painterly minimalism of their works in photography without it somehow becoming boring.
And then you thought of Japan?
Yes, I knew architecture books about Japan. I was fascinated by the rigor precision and purism expressed in the buildings presented there. I thought these qualities could help me with my project.
So, you weren’t interested in creating Travel images and impressions of Japan?
No, not at all. I was simply interested in taking good pictures.
In this endeavor, you very often blur the indexical trace of the photographic image. Your works often have a timeless and placeless effect. To what extent is that important to you?
This has to do with the fact that I don’t want to tell a story in my photographs. I am primarily interested in the successful form. For me, this is what makes a picture beautiful.
Is it even possible to avoid telling a story? Don’t the strict structures of your facades tell of the dream of measure and number? A female mouth of delicacy and vulnerability?
These are projections of the viewer. Legitimate projections. For me, however, the coherent image is at the center of my search. And I achieve this coherence in photography primarily through light.
Hikari
Japan
Why did you give the series of your Japan pictures the title ‘Shoku’?
Shoku is an old Japanese measurement for a unit of light and means the luminosity of a candle. Light is everything in photography. When I left the house in the morning in Tokyo, where the majority of the pictures were taken, I was always guided by the position of the sun and the light of the sky as I wandered through the city.
What is the relationship between finding and inventing in your pictures?
I am not staging if that’s what you mean by inventing. It’s something in between. I have an inner idea of a successful picture. And I am searching for it. But it’s not tied to a specific motif. I often walk around for hours and find nothing at all. And then suddenly I see the picture I was looking for. That is a tremendous stroke of luck. Sometimes it comes to me almost perfectly in reality, but sometimes I have to help a little.
Where did you help?
For example, the shadow pictures. On a walk, I saw these fantastic shadows on a tarpaulin covering a building site. But there were dozens of bicycles in front of it. After some hesitation, I quickly cleared them away.
How did you get from the architectural motifs to the nudes?
I thought about how I could transfer the reduction I was aiming for to the depiction of people. The idea came to me on the underground. I saw a woman’s neck wrapped in an embroidered kimono in front of me and thought: ’My, God, how beautiful that is’.
And from there it went on to the nudes?
Yes, I had never photographed nudes before. I asked myself whether that was still possible? Whether it could still be done today? Can I do it with the whole burden of the photographic history of the nude on my shoulders? But as an artist, you always have to leave safe territory. You have to dare to do something.
Mune
Japan
Although only partial views, your nudes radiate dignity. They are more subject than object
That’s what I wanted to portray. Japan is a country that – as I got to know it- has dignity and shows respect for others. This is expressed in many different ways. Even in very small things. How you give someone change, how you hold a cup. People are very attentive and very mindful. I experienced beauty in Japan that brought tears to my eyes. In a way that I usually only know from music and art.
You only take analogue photos, not digital. Only black and white, not colour. Why is that?
This form of photography trains me to be precise, and that’s what I love. Even just the posture I adopt when taking photos. I look down at my viewfinder and into the face of my subject. I only have twelve frames on the film and I have to choose my image carefully. I have to measure the light. I have to consider my framing wisely. I can’t witch away objects at the klick of a mouse or command colour into the picture as required.
Sounds more like a disadvantage than an advantage?
Yes, it may sound that way. But that changes the moment you see the pictures and the results. Just look at the tactile quality of the baryta paper! How well it holds up, laminated on aluminum with Japanese rice starch. Look at the wonderful modulations and thousand of shades of grey that unfold between the poles of black and white! This gives you a vivid idea of the fact that, as theory teaches, all colours are suspended in grey. A tremendous sensuality blossom here.