What Can Be Done in a Six-Foot-Three Universe

KitamuraYour works, Anrakuji-san, have a different concept even before they take the form of photographs. In that sense, I don't think you fit into the category of a conventional photographer. Perhaps an artist in a broader sense?

AnrakujiI originally started with oil painting, and then I did copperplate etching. So, why did I move to photography? I suppose it was because photography was interesting.
The catalyst was related to my illness and my ten-year battle with it. At first, I was forced into a state where I could do nothing in an extremely confined space. In that situation, all I could do was stare intently at familiar objects, like my pillow.
That went on for ten years, but as I began to recover, I felt a desire to do something. However, oil painting and printmaking are not activities that can be done immediately on the spot. So, what could I do in my six-foot-three universe? I made small, intricate things and photographed them. I turned these into self-published books, and before I knew it, I had accumulated enough self-published photo books to reach the ceiling. At that point, I thought, if I were to die now, all of this would be discarded without anyone seeing it. So, I decided to apply to a competition. To my surprise, Daido Moriyama and Kotaro Iizawa gave me high praise.
From there, I became recognized as a photographer, with my photo books being accepted, but originally, they were all self-published works created under those circumstances.

Works Like Dreams Seen in a State of Low-Grade Fever

KitamuraPerhaps if those ten years hadn't happened, your work wouldn't be like this. Looking at your current pieces, I feel an emotion that surpasses the images on the surface.
When I first saw your photographs, Anrakuji-san, I didn't know about your illness, but I was struck by them in a good way. It was like a low-grade fever. It reminds me of that feeling as a child when you'd get sick in the late afternoon, before bedtime, and lie alone in bed. At times like that, you'd always have the same dream, and though it was scary, you'd also want to see what lay beyond the dream. Your work felt so full of that kind of sensation. Things you see in dreams are hard to explain in words, but it felt like that's what was expressed in your art.

AnrakujiThat might be true. The theme of this exhibition, as stated in the text at the entrance (see below), expresses a sense of addiction, a feeling that is unpleasant yet somehow sweet and comfortable. This theme is something that has been consistent for me, not just for this exhibition. I feel like I'm constantly balancing on the edge of a cliff, just managing to survive. Perhaps I'm able to live because I can translate that into my work. However, I dislike things that are disgusting or grotesque. I like being right on the borderline.





"Snail Diary" Concept

〈Snail Diary〉～Homage to the staff as a tool (talisman) connecting heaven and earth in the dizzying world of spirals～

Blisters break out all over the skin,
and countless snails crawl over the raw, stinging mucous membranes.
The grotesque, unpleasant, yet comfortable sensation continues on and on.
A dizzying world of spirals from which there is no return.
Is it a divine misjudgment? The staff becomes a timid compass, its needle trembling erratically.
To the sacred staff, pity, contempt, compassion, and affection.
I will likely continue to wander endlessly in this spiral space, guided by the vibrations of the uncertain staff touching the ground.




information
Original goods designed by Emi Anrakuji, manufactured by Hysteric Glamour, are currently available in limited quantities at Hysteric stores.

Belt ¥36,750 (tax included)
Choker ¥13,440 (tax included)
Gloves (Ladies') ¥23,100 (tax included)
Stockings ¥8,190 (tax included)