The Paradox of Reality

The Incomplete Araki: Sex, Life, and Death in the
Works of Nobuyoshi Araki
Museum of Sex, New York
08.02.18 – 03.09.18

Translated by Richard Dobson

Nobuyoshi Araki hopes to reach reality through photography and take part in life. In other words, if he were to have put down the camera, maybe he would have never really lived.

In 2018, Nobuyoshi Araki held a large retrospective exhibition called The Incomplete Araki: Sex, Life, and Death in the Works of Nobuyoshi Araki at the Museum of Sex in New York. The exhibition was extremely bold, and explored the themes of ‘male chauvinism, ritualism, obsession, exhibitionism, pornography, and infatuation of art with East Asian women’. This exhibition is a virtual summary of the life of Araki, especially considering that he has suffered from cancer in recent years, and has published several ‘final testaments’, only to return virtually from the edge of death.

I believe assessments of Araki have always been very wide of the mark. And while there have been many, most of these regard him as a famous artist, not as a person who happens to be an artist. These evaluations attach too many labels or are excessively theoretical, or too adoring, or too critical. They either go to one extreme or the other, tearing apart a legend or a fiend, without taking into consideration either the complexity of a person or the fact that an artist is rooted in human nature and that their humanity is expressed in the complexity of the artistic process.

Making ‘Intimate Photos’ Public?

Araki works very hard. He is taking photos all the time and at every moment. His wife, Yoko, recalled that many of the intimate moments they shared when they lived together were documented in photos. This is difficult for most photographers to do, and this is what Araki’s ‘intimate photos’ captured on a daily basis.

However, intimate photography is full of innate contradictions: intimate photography; taking intimate pictures of people and their private lives. But it is also necessary to show the images to a public. The photographer needs to be both intimate with the subject, yet also maintain the viewpoint and attitude of a spectator; for the subject, the photographer is both a close and trustworthy person, and yet also a stranger who intrudes into their private life on behalf of the public.

As a photographer who engages in this kind of intimate photography, Araki seems a bit strange and his subjects are tortured. Both Kiko Mizuhara and KaoRi, both of whom had previously been photographed by Araki, complained. When Mizuhara was having her naked upper torso photographed, more than twenty strange men barged into the studio, and when she protested, Araki turned a deaf ear; and KaoRi has said that although she was referred to by the media as Araki’s muse and girlfriend, in fact she was paid very little or even nothing to model for him, while never receiving the respect and emotional support that her work deserved. Even Araki’s wife felt that he was impossible to understand. In a moment of tenderness, he won’t forget to pick up his camera. Yoko had said: ‘I have lived with him for more than ten years and often I think he lives a terrible existence.’¹

In order to carry out this kind of photography, Araki needs to do a few things. Firstly, the camera is used to isolate him from his subject, and therefore what he does is not considered pornographic voyeurism and instead is regarded as the creative work of an artist. Secondly, he ‘objectifies’ his subjects. Like lumberjacks seeing forests simply as wood or recruiters viewing people as human resources. He refuses to inject emotion into these objects, and before his camera lens they are seen as a constituent element of a good piece of work.

However, this brings rise to a new contradiction. He can’t let the subject become aware of this. Or at least before he presses the shutter, he must allow them to reveal the real expressions and physical movements that would only be done in front of people with whom they are intimate, and in whom they have a high degree of trust. This is very difficult and Araki has revealed his experiences to reporters. To do this, he must ‘touch’ the woman who is modelling for him.²

So how can a subject suffering such severe mental discomfort put up with the torture that is required of Araki’s long photo shoots? Based on what Yoko and KaoRi said, we could surmise that they may spontaneously or due to indoctrination be susceptible to these psychological cues: being photographed is actually a sublime sacrifice and undertaking for art’s sake; it is a magnificent endeavour that will enter the annals of art history and by doing so they might become someone of great significance and find a meaning for their existence.

Not So Unavailable?

When he was young, Araki lived in an old red-light district in Japan. There were rooms where prostitutes would provide their services and special cemeteries reserved for prostitutes. Araki said: ‘Everything is determined by where you grew up and this is how I learned that desire, life and death are all linked together. This concept left a lasting impression on my heart.’ The impression of death he received in childhood may have made Araki think that life is fleeting, dreamlike, and only photography can record living, and make these moments last longer. So, in fact the real value lies in taking photos, not living. The impressions he had of prostitutes in his childhood may have prematurely stimulated his sexual desire. On the one hand, he felt that a woman’s body could be displayed and used publicly, that it was as an object. In this respect, he may not have the psychological inhibitions of the average person.

Thus, Araki may be able to engage in intimate photography for three reasons: either he is afraid to slip into real life, or he ‘professionalises’ his life due to his utilitarianism, or he gives his life ‘meaning’ that stems from his contemplation of values.

As Araki has said, if he didn’t take photos, he would not be alive. The camera has been internalised as the only sensory organ of his body, the proof of his existence and gives meaning for him to go on living. He once told reporters: ‘Photography is a perfect fit with my mental state, so that’s why I can say I am a photographic genius. Because photography is me. Photography is my memory. I’ve never focused on the trends in society and of the times. Photography is my journal – that is, taking pictures of this thing that is my life.’

This leads to danger. First of all, Araki may lose his own private life; in addition, he can’t participate in life when he puts down the camera. As long as Araki is still doing intimate photography, he is not so unavailable.

The Paradox of Reality

In the West, in 1986, the female photographer Nan Goldin published The Ballad of Sexual Dependency in which the term ‘intimate photography’ first officially appeared. In her works, she presents the living conditions of American youth on the edge of mainstream society. She even recorded her own bruised and swollen face after being beaten up by her boyfriend. In the East, in 1971, Araki published a collection of photos titled Sentimental Journey, which included the naked female body and women that have been tied up, and this continues to attract attention and spur discussion.

In Hong Lei’s column Cai Sang Bi Tan, he opposed photographic works as using ‘excessive force’, and was in favour of the ‘useless’ photo – it restores only the moment ‘that was there’, and does not interfere with the possibility of capturing the details of an image, while viewing it. To put it another way, don’t use the subjective influence of the photographer to capture objective reality! So, what should we think about intimate photography? Should the subjectivity of the photographer be injected into intimate photography? Or should it strive to present objective reality?

On the one hand, since intimate photography conveys the photographer’s personal emotions and ideas, it is impossible not to be subjective. On the other hand, the purpose of intimate photography is still to present ‘reality’, precisely because it is an intimate situation, so the subject, the photo shoot and scene are more likely to be real.

Photographers record objective reality from a subjective perspective. They do not modify or shy away in order to approach the limitlessness of reality. They do not hesitate to make public people’s private lives, and they even regard private life as a true example of human life. This may be where the value of intimate photography lies. Goldin’s view of photography confirms this: ‘I only shoot people I am very familiar with… I am not looking for beautiful things through photography, just to shoot the person I see. Although some people say that photography is an aggressive behaviour, for me, taking photos is a way of touching and caressing the person in front of me. It is a way of expressing my own respect. The camera is my eyes and hands at that moment.’

Nowadays, with the popularity of taking photos with mobile phones, records of private lives can be seen everywhere in the WeChat community. However, there are probably not many people who are like Araki and recklessly enter the intimate realm of naked expression and pay the price. Maybe this is the ‘ultimate price’ an artist has to pay for what they see as their just cause!

1. See Nobuyoshi Araki, Yoko My Love, afterword by Akira Hasegawa, Asahi Sonorama, Tokyo, 1978.

2. See Nobuyoshi Araki, interviewed by Tomo Kosuga, VICE Magazine, 2 July 2008 ( The Photo Issue 2008 ) <https: //www.vice.com/en_us/article/yvngdx /nobuyoshi-araki-118-v15n7>.