© Bernard MATUSSIERE

Two Photo Books

Months later, the Japanese painter visited the studio.

The painter wasn't holding paintings for the shoot; instead, he held two photo books. Bernard was shown these two books by the painter, but as the titles and photographers' names were in Japanese, he couldn't possibly know whose works they were. It took him several minutes to even grasp why the Japanese painter had brought these two photo books. Afterward, a great sense of unease and pressure washed over Bernard.

“I’ve spoken with these two photographers. Choose the one you prefer!”
The Japanese painter said this to Bernard, who, without remembering how much time had passed, repeatedly flipped through the two photo books from beginning to end. As he turned the pages, he tried to consider the photographers, the content of the photos, and which photographer might suit him better. But all that echoed in Bernard's mind with each turn of the page was: This Japanese painter has really done it! What am I going to do? Why did I say I was interested? Do I have to leave Paris? Will I no longer be a Parisian? What about my work, my studio? And what about Muriel? My girlfriend? My family? Japan? Japanese? What am I going to do! Oh, what am I going to do!

Of course, Bernard was overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of the photo books' content, but even more so, he was struck by the challenge of how to handle this situation, how to make a decision, as a person, as a man, as a Parisian.

© Bernard MATUSSIERE

A Life Like Amidakuji

In the end, Bernard chose one of the two photo books, fulfilling a promise between two men (though Bernard hadn't considered it a promise). The reason Bernard chose that particular book was simply that it contained many fashion and nude photographs of women. There was no other special sentiment behind it; rather, it was the result of a sense of 'obligation' to take responsibility and the 'coincidence' that it featured many nude photos he liked.

It was as if the ranking was being decided by an Amidakuji lottery.

There was no evidence to suggest how this choice would change Bernard's life. All that existed was one superb photo book, surprise, a sense of obligation, a promise between men, coincidence, and the immense anxiety of being placed in a situation where he had to go to Japan.

© Bernard MATUSSIERE

On the cover of the photo book Bernard had chosen, a photographer's name was written in Japanese.

It read: Photographer Yasuhiro Wakabayashi.

Bernard understood only that the photographer was Japanese.

© Bernard MATUSSIERE