'The X-ray is one of several 19th century inventions that were paired with photography and led to a new conception of the camera as being not a tool for recording what we see, but a means for capturing what we can’t see. Telescopes and microscopes were also part of this shift in understanding. The relationship between seeing and knowing was becoming more complicated and the uptake of these technologies heralded a growing awareness of there being a lot more in the physical world than our senses could detect on their own.
'The images in Kohei Yoshiyuki’s series Koen (‘The Park’) also push the boundaries of visibility and human perception. They activate our vision where it usually fails – in the dark. Yoshiyuki obtained them by taking his camera on vespertine prowls of Tokyo’s public parks in 1971 and 1979, furtively capturing on film the Peeping Toms he found watching people engaged in sexual acts. Using infrared sensitive film and filtered flash bulbs, the amateur photographer was able to grant himself a gaze that penetrated straight through the very darkness that made him invisible to everybody else there. The levels of complicity, performativity and victimisation on the part of the subjects remain ambiguous – we know we are seeing something we are not permitted to see, but we have the sense that the amorous subjects audacious or desperate enough to have sex in these places must have been aware of the possibility of becoming visible.
'Of course, there’s nothing especially Japanese about bonking in public parks. But in their localised context the photographs underline the limits of privacy in Tokyo in the 1970s. After WWII the Love Hotel phenomena had flourished in Japan, allowing couples to rent rooms for ‘resting’, charged by the hour. And even before these short stay hotels, sex in urban Japan had often been removed from the private home – where typically very little personal space was possible – and assigned to semi-public chaya ‘tearooms’. Many 18th and 19th century ukiyo-e woodblock prints survive depicting a third party casually watching copulating couples in such venues, so Yoshiyuki’s series can be situated in a historical thread of artists recording or imagining voyeurism as their primary subject.
'Blown up and printed at life-size, Yoshiuki’s photographs were shown in 1979 at Komai Gallery in Tokyo where the lights were turned off and visitors were instructed to navigate the space with hand-held torches. The prints were destroyed after the exhibition, but the photographs were published in a book in 1980 before Yoshiyuki (a pseudonym, his real name remains unknown) set up shop as a family portrait photographer and vanished into obscurity. In 2006 Martin Parr’s publication The Photobook: A History included Yoshiyuki as an unknown innovator, prompting Yossi Milo Gallery in New York to track down the reclusive artist and convince him to reprint the remaining negatives.
'The photographer’s sudden destruction of the prints and abandonment of the project suggests contention might have arisen over him showing the potentially incriminating photographs that had been so clandestinely taken, very recently, in the same city. We now have a safety barrier of more than three decades between us and the images, but their capacity to involve us prevails. It is when the figures have their backs to us and evade being identified themselves that we are most heavily implicated, no matter how much distance in space and time we have secured. As with Caspar David Friedrich’s rückenfigurs (and their modern manifestations in the surrogate bodies seen from behind in video games), we are forced to enter the image because we are facing the same thing as the depicted figure in front of us.
'Looking at the Koen series induces an uneasiness that has something to do with seeing the seer looking while seeing ourselves being seen looking. Paintings depicting the Biblical story of Susanna and The Elders, where an innocent woman bathing in a garden falls victim to exploitative male desire, can have a similar effect. The scene was depicted by the likes of Rubens, Rembrandt, Van Dyck, Tintoretto and Gentileschi – its popularity being easily attributed to the justification it offered for a prominent fully exposed female nude, sanctioned under the category of ‘historic painting’. While a sanctimonious position is superficially implied for the viewer, we can’t condemn the invasive gaze of The Elders without indulging in moral hypocrisy, knowing that we ourselves have gone on to perpetuate the same gaze so prolifically.
'When we move from painting to photography the image’s capacity for implication is even stronger, because the photograph asserts that its subject at some point existed physically before the camera’s lens. It is a curious feature of the history of photography that long after the daguerreotype was superseded by cheaper and more efficient techniques, pornographic daguerreotypes continued to be produced and sold. The photo historian Geoffrey Batchen has linked this to the status of the daguerreotype as a tactile, hand-held, unique and non-reproducible object. The private act of opening the lined daguerreotype case (as with the nominally ‘sealed’ section of a men’s magazine, sealed only from those incapable of tearing the edge of a page) must have been part of the ritualised process of stimulation. The extremely long exposure time that the sexy daguerreotype image was known to have required could also have invested it with a sense of intimacy that enhanced its eroticism.
'In contrast, these gritty candid images suggest anthropological distance on the part of the photographer. Whether we like it or not we are lined up right behind Yoshiyuki in the chain of voyeurism, while in many of the images (the most interesting ones, I think) the final object of vision (the erotic act) cannot be seen. They are hardly suitable masturbation material: we are granted proximity while being denied any illusion of intimacy. Rather than removing traces of the photographer and the photographic process to suggest we are seeing directly, they make us intensely aware of the photographer and his precarious position. In this sense they are less photographs about sex, and more photographs about photography (the word means literally ‘writing with light’ but the invention was nearly named skiagraphy, ‘writing with shadow’). These images make visible what is supposed to invisible to us – sex, yes, but also, more compellingly, darkness itself.'-- Amelia Groom
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Further
Kohei Yoshiyuki @ Wikipedia
KY @ Yossi Milo Gallery
Book: 'The Park', by Vince Aletti
'SUNDAY SALON: Yoshiyuki Kohei'
'Anton Corbijn on Kohei Yoshiyuki’s ‘The Park’'
Book''Document Park'
'Park life: how photographer Kohei Yoshiyuki caught voyeurs in the act'
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Book
Kohei Yoshiyuki-The Park
Il Voyeurismo di Kohei Yoshiyuki
"The Park", Kohei Yoshiyuki
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Interview
in French
Fisheye : Comment vous êtes-vous retrouvé à photographier des voyeurs en action ?
Kohei Yoshiyuki : À l’époque je cherchais des sujets à photographier, notamment en traînant dans des quartiers animés. J’assistais à des scènes de bagarres ou d’agressions, mais cela ne m’intéressait pas. Le parc n’était pas loin de là où j’habitais et quand j’ai découvert ces scènes nocturnes, j’ai trouvé ça fascinant. Ce qui m’a vraiment interpellé c’est la transformation radicale du parc, le contraste entre le jour et la nuit. Un lieu pour les enfants et les familles la journée qui devient un terrain de jeu pour les couples et les voyeurs la nuit, c’est un autre monde !
Savez-vous pourquoi ces couples se retrouvaient au parc pour faire l’amour ? Est-ce encore le cas aujourd’hui ?
J’ai pris la plupart des photographies de cette série au parc central de Shinjuku (NDLR : un arrondissement central de Tokyo). À l’époque c’était un tout nouveau parc, probablement ouvert à la fin des années 1960. Il était très central dans le quartier, ce qui en faisait a priori un lieu de passage idéal après un dîner ou un film pour les couples qui commençaient à sortir ensemble. Le fait de voir d’autres couples en action semblait les exciter et, comme il s’agissait en grande partie de jeunes couples, on peut supposer qu’ils n’avaient pas les moyens d’avoir une liaison à l’hôtel.
Je ne suis pas retourné dans le parc après avoir publié ces photos, donc je ne sais pas ce qu’il s’y passe en ce moment la nuit. Mais aujourd’hui ce ne serait sans doute pas possible de prendre les mêmes clichés, les gens feraient peut-être plus attention.
Comment avez-vous réussi à pénétrer cet univers pour prendre des photos ?
Cela m’a pris six mois pour être accepté et considéré comme un membre de cette communauté de voyeurs. Pendant cette période, j’ai appris la technique pour approcher les couples. Je laissais aussi les mateurs jeter un œil à l’appareil que je gardais dans mon sac. J’avais besoin qu’ils ignorent mon matériel et se disent : « C’est juste un voyeur comme les autres, mais il a un appareil photo. » Le plus difficile a toujours été de m’approcher des sujets en douceur. Si un couple ou un voyeur commençait à faire attention à ma présence, ça devenait impossible de prendre une photo.
Est-ce que vous vous considériez aussi comme un voyeur ?
Je n’ai jamais été excité sexuellement, mais j’étais exalté à l’idée d’être là et de prendre des photos. Je pense que le voyeurisme fait partie de l’acte photographique.
Les couples se savaient-ils observés ? Comment réagissaient-ils, notamment quand les voyeurs commençaient à les toucher ?
Je pense que les couples avaient entendu parler de l’existence des voyeurs dans les parcs mais, vraisemblablement, ils n’ont jamais pensé qu’ils seraient observés. Les voyeurs s’approchaient toujours doucement dans le dos de l’homme et essayaient de donner l’impression à la femme que c’était son petit ami qui était en train de la toucher. Les femmes ne remarquaient jamais qu’elles se faisaient toucher par un voyeur. Mais parfois, après avoir commencé à caresser le corps d’une femme, le voyeur devenait moins prudent et la situation s’emballait. Dans ce cas, il arrivait que l’homme devienne suspicieux et surprenne le voyeur qui quittait alors immédiatement les lieux. Après avoir compris ce qui venait de leur arriver, les couples étaient choqués.
Quel matériel avez-vous utilisé pour les prises de vues ?
L’appareil photo était un Canon 7 à objectifs interchangeables avec un posemètre au sélénium intégré pour la mesure de la lumière, donc semblable à un appareil compact. J’ai utilisé une pellicule infrarouge haute vitesse et un flash stroboscopique additionnel avec un filtre de couleur rouge foncé. Pour le tirage des négatifs, je me suis servi d’un liquide utilisé habituellement pour le développement des images de rayons X. En apparence, tout ça est une mauvaise combinaison mais ça a très bien marché.
Dans le parc, nous étions dans l’obscurité totale et je n’étais pas capable de bien voir. Je devais évaluer les angles de prises de vue et les distances dans le noir, beaucoup de clichés ont été pris sans regarder dans le viseur.
Avez-vous été inspiré par d’autres photographes ?
Non. J’ai juste voulu photographier ces situations et je l’ai fait à ma façon. J’imagine que vous avez le nom de Weegee en tête, mais c’est seulement après l’exposition à la galerie Yossi Milo à New York en 2007 que j’ai appris que Weegee utilisait aussi des pellicules infrarouges.
La première fois que vous avez exposé vos clichés, vous avez eu l’idée d’une mise en scène originale (réutilisée plusieurs fois par la suite) qui transformait les spectateurs en voyeurs. Comment le public a-t-il réagi ?
J’ai d’abord publié une partie de ce travail dans un hebdomadaire japonais en 1972. J’ai ensuite travaillé comme photographe pour une agence de presse pendant plusieurs années. Quand j’ai quitté ce job pour devenir freelance, j’ai eu l’occasion de faire une exposition. C’était en 1979 dans une galerie d’art contemporain. La galerie se trouvait dans un sous-sol sans fenêtre. Les spectateurs se retrouvaient donc dans le noir face à des tirages grand format, quasiment à taille humaine, et chacun devait éclairer mes photos avec une lampe de poche. Cette idée de scénographie m’est venue tout de suite après les prises de vue. La réaction du public a été très bonne, sauf une personne qui a appelé la police croyant avoir vu des scènes de crimes. Deux inspecteurs sont venus à la galerie, mais ils n’ont rien signalé. Après cette exposition, j’ai décidé de publier un livre avec ces photos. Entre-temps, j’avais appris l’existence un autre parc dans lequel se rassemblaient des homosexuels. Je les ai photographiés en 1979 pour ajouter ces images à la série et finaliser le livre. Peu après la publication, j’ai entendu dire qu’un voyeur s’était vanté d’être sur une de mes photos.
Selon le photographe britannique Martin Parr, votre travail est « une œuvre documentaire brillante qui saisit parfaitement la solitude, la tristesse et le désespoir qui accompagnent si souvent les rapports humains et les relations sexuelles dans les grandes métropoles comme Tokyo ». Que pensez-vous de son analyse ?
J’apprécie le commentaire de Martin Parr. Je considère en effet que c’est de la photographie documentaire et je suis très heureux que mon œuvre soit diffusée et bien reçue. J’espère que mes photos seront aussi perçues de la sorte au Japon. Malheureusement, je n’entends pas grand-chose d’intéressant sur mon travail dans ce pays.
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Show
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p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Yes, I do. I've quit twice for lengthy periods of time, and it was pure hell to get there, and one of these days I might quit again, but no plans to at the moment. ** Tosh Berman, Thanks so much Tosh! ** Steevee, Hi. Yeah, I read that it's probably closing today even. It's very sad. In retrospect, they probably should have let it die at the old location. Like a lot of people, I followed my heart and donated to save the store, but between the poor new location they chose, and the way they thereby basically relied on customer nostalgia to keep the place going, and the big debts they had no real game plan re: resolving, it was pretty much doomed. It was such a great and important store for such a long time in its prime. It sounds like the blood sugar results thing can be easily resolved, or I sure hope so. ** Scunnard, Hey. Amsterdam is pretty and it has a very good two or three days' worth of fun in it. But don't go in the winter. LA, on the other hand, is endlessly entertaining. Even in the summer. ** Dóra Grőber, Hi! We originally had this dream/idea that we could talk either Var or Iceage into appearing in the film for this one concert scene, but our budget was way, way too small for that. I like Loke Rahbek's stuff a lot. Lust for Youth, Croation Amor, and he did a terrific collab. album with Puce Mary last year: 'The Female Form'. It's really cool that you met and talked with him. I don't know the film 'Candy' or the Luke Davies book. I'll go try to find the book and film, thank you! Are you liking it? ** Sypha, Hi, James. Oh, as I think you know, 'Lunar Park' is one of my favorite novels by Bret. I'm glad you decided to retry it. I like it better than 'Glamorama', but that's just me. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi. I'm very happy that you're reading the Agota Kristof trilogy. It's one of my very favorite, very all time favorite books. Ah, yeah, Art101 delays seem to be part of its nature, but soon it will be full and complete at last, and the time taken won't matter, you know? ** S., Ha ha, you do sound like Pete Townsend. No, you don't, but I get what you're saying. Why are you intending to stay at Gare de Lyon, not that that's a bad idea? ** Misanthrope, Hi. Yeah, I don't know why I like bitter cold wind. I guess I like when nature makes you feel like walking-talking, meaningless tissue paper. Why, I don't know. Here, we've got rain and rain and rain. That's all. ** Chris Dankland, Hi, Chris! I've started reading your book. I'm taking it slow because I've had a bad (but now lessening) head cold ever since I last 'spoke' with you. Anyway, I love the stories! I've been reading each one many times, and not just because my head has been fuzzy. Dissecting them is beautiful. Really great, man! It's being a very super pleasure! Cool that you're reading 'Inferno'. Yeah, it's wonderful. The symposium was a two-day thing. I only went to the first day because that was enough for me. Basically, people sitting around discussing her work. Papers on her work were delivered. Eileen was there for one session. And she did a reading. It was cool. It was kind of academic, but relaxed too. Eileen and I met in the early'80s. I was doing Little Caesar Magazine and Press then, and I really liked her poetry, so I solicited her for the magazine. And then I ended up publishing one of her early books, 'Sappho's Boat' through Little Caesar Press, and we became close friends and comrades, and we've been so ever since. Enjoy your morning and the rest of your day too, of course! ** Rewritedept, Hey. Good news about the fairly settled moving plans and the return of your computer. I had a cold all weekend, so my weekend wasn't so high keyed. Zac and I are waiting for Gisele's feedback on the latest stuff we wrote in the TV script so we can revise and move forward. She's running around because 'TVC' is playing here and there right now, but I think we'll get her opinions today. Haven't dared to reenter the novel yet, no. 'M Train' ... oh, the Patti Smith book? I'm not very interested in reading that for some reason. Paul Mitchell has horrible hair. That's all I know about him. Yeah, I think my sister found that old photo, and, in some weird mood, I made it my whatever-you-call-it. My grandma was amazing. She basically is responsible for me being a writer, I'm pretty sure. 'Strangers with Candy' was good, yeah. The short short fiction pieces plus illustrations you're making sound very cool. ** Thomas Moronic, Thanks, bud. March! Soon! Awesome! And as awesome if not even much more so maybe that... your novel is officially coming! Any details or anything you can share? Hooray, to say the least! The Eileen Myles thing was great. I told Chris a bit about it. And seeing her was wonderful, naturally. Bon day! ** Right. On the off chance that you haven't seen Kohei Yoshiyuki's 'The Park' photo series before, I thought I would share it in your directions. See you tomorrow.