It is architecture, and it is photography. Toshihiro Komatsu's CT series can be described in this way. However, if we divide them into “content” and “form,” his intentions will not be conveyed. The two are inseparable, and this makes a peculiar space to emerge, different from that of ordinary photography.

 

A certain “presence” is captured in photographs, and this is especially true when the photographs are taken in architectural spaces where people have lived for many years. In such cases, we do not perceive the architect's original intention, but rather the way the people who live in the building have continuously remodeled it in response to their daily necessities. If we look closely at the various objects placed in the room, we can see a mixture of the old and the new. Chronologically, they are all in disarray. They are integrated by the aged wooden pillars and beams.

 

The absence of the people living in the space in the photographs also contributes to the “presence” of the room. In the past works in the CT series, basically, no human beings appeared in the photographs. It might be said that “the absence” of the inhabitants were captured in the photographs. In this context, the inclusion of the photographs of a mother and child, sitting together, could be described as a new direction to this series. This is because it suggests a “connection” between what has passed and what will be inherited by the next generation.

 

In addition, it should be noted that the word “camera” originally means a “room.” In this case, the photographer and the photographed are in an analogous relationship. In fact, since the CT series requires the space be partitioned by a wall, the photographed object gives the impression of an “enclosed space.” Although Komatsu himself is behind the camera and not present in the photographs, he can be considered to be inside the photographs by being inside the rooms of the building. This sense of “being inside” is similar to Komatsu's installation works.

 

The ambivalence of the position of being both outside and inside provides an opportunity to explain the specificity of space in this series. It is easy to become aware of the hole in the wall of the room in the foreground, but it is also noteworthy that the depth of field seems to have been reduced. This is different from the continuous infinite depth of Renaissance paintings, which are often discussed in connection with the camera. As the metaphor of a “window” suggests, the creator/viewer is positioned outside of it. This difference is not so great as to be a contradiction. It is only a slight discrepancy. Nevertheless, this discomfort leads to the evocation of the “presence” created by the architecture.

 

Komatsu's work, which appears as if there is a hole in a wall that is ought not to be seen through to the back, might be thought of as a visual trick. But perhaps the opposite is true. As was the case with photography of the late 1960s and 1970s, when many tricky expressions appeared, Komatsu's theme is to question the very nature of human “seeing” by evoking physicality. The nested structure of the building (architecture) and the camera (photography) is set up for this purpose.

 

Tadasu Fujii (art critic, curator, professor of Tokyo Zokei University)