Tomorrow’s photograph is made by what I shoot today.
Kawada Kikuji
Friday mornings are my time to relax. I usually have long days on Wednesdays and Thursdays since I work part-time, so I take my morning lie-ins very seriously. Plus, I’m not a morning person. 🤷🏾♀️
When my friend insisted we visit the exhibition at Japan House in London, I couldn’t say no. It was my first visit to Japan House, and I found it to be a beautiful, serene space. The interior is predominantly white, with Japanese artefacts scattered throughout as you walk in. Overall, it was a calm and inviting experience.
As we headed to the lower floor, we were greeted by exhibition signage in big, bold letters. I knew we were in for a treat.
As we entered the space, the walls were curved and dark. Immediately, we were confronted with the aftermath of war and what remained, though the subtle silence of the photographs made it almost unnoticeable.
Quotes from the artists adorned the walls, encouraging visitors to reflect on how being a photographer affects both the artist and those who view their work.
As I continued through the space, I saw work projected on the wall. These same images were reflected in the still images that hung on the opposite wall, acting as if they were shadows of themselves. Even as you looked at the artwork, you could see yourself as part of the work. You would walk through the space thinking that it interrupted your view of both the still images and what was projected on the wall. However, it felt very intentional.
Shadow in the shadow.
Shadow in the water.
Shadow in the glass.
Shadow in the picture.
Shadow in the frame.
The ebbs and flows of the exhibition continued and with a piece that hung from the ceiling with light projecting a flow like state on the floor. I just found it fascinating how you as ther viewer was immersed in the work itself by walk it through it as if dancing with the rhythm of what is portrayed in the images.
This was followed by images of cherry blossoms hang in the same space and made you interact with the work as well from both sides of the frame. From projections of old photographers to the night landscapes and cherry blossom trees, it felt like the artist wanted you to look closely to the absence of humanity, but the presence of their spirit in these environments.
When I visit exhibitions, I try and interpret the work how I observe it and see if I am close enough to what the artist intended to us the audience to take away from it. Sometimes, I miss the mark and sometimes, I am close enough and that in itself is why I find visiting photographic exhibitions a place for me to learn and immerse myself.
I came out of this exhibition feeling inspired to document the everyday mundane. Investigate what make a photograph ask more questions than give answers. Embrace the art of the late photograph by revisiting and documenting spaces that were once something before everything changed.
If you have reached here, thank you for reading and engaging with my blog post.
Drinking loads of tea with M&S Ginger Cookies make it happen and your support is always welcome.
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