Invisible, Yet Present

Two years have passed since the Great East Japan Earthquake and the accident at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. Photographer Tomoki Imai continued to photograph the plant from within the 30km exclusion zone for 20 months, from April 21, 2011, to the end of 2012. Some photos show the plant buildings. However, others only show trees, forests, or mountain ranges. Some photos are almost entirely white due to fog. While Imai was indeed photographing the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, more precisely, he was "centering the frame in the direction of the plant from various locations."




"Initially, after the accident, I thought I wouldn't go (to the site). I also had a vague sense that what I photograph isn't the disaster or the harsh conditions of the accident," says Imai. Yet, Imai drove his car, went to Fukushima alone, and ventured into the mountains. In other words, he went to photograph the plant as a photographer, but he would confront the subject in his own unique way. As mentioned earlier, even from locations where the buildings were not visible, he framed his shots in the direction of the plant and pressed the shutter.


This is a significant departure from normal photography, the principle of facing the subject and pressing the shutter. How did he perceive this difference as a photographer? "I don't know if this is the right way to put it, but as I continued shooting, it gradually became interesting. Standing on a mountaintop, confirming my position with a compass, and shooting in the direction of the invisible plant. I felt that this act of shooting under circumstances where I couldn't choose felt like a valid methodology. Around this time, I started to feel a sense of accomplishment in developing the film."




Imai spoke about the exhibited photographs, mentioning when they were taken and how the Hamadori region, being close to the sea, is prone to water vapor and cloud formation. The works, whether depicting a lightly overcast gray sky, snow-capped trees, or lush new greenery, all exuded a sense of tranquility, with each piece conveying a deliberate intention. Even without knowing the fact that he continued to shoot facing the direction of the plant, the photographs evoked a sense of "something there" in the viewer.


"However, there are aspects that I find very precarious as photographs," says Imai. "At the point where the subject is not visible, words and explanations become necessary. Of course, some photos show the buildings, but most are obscured by mountains and cannot be seen. I am trying to photograph what cannot be seen. It's a difficult area to determine if it's permissible as a photographic method. I was creating these works while questioning whether they would hold up as photographs, but over the 20 months, my feelings changed to, 'This is interesting (as a methodology)."

He rarely encountered people.

One can imagine the hardships involved in actually going to Fukushima immediately after the earthquake and the nuclear accident. He headed not to the site of direct damage, but to the mountains where there was no human presence. It must have been an extremely solitary endeavor. "Basically, I went to shoot alone by car. In the early days, the forest roads (leading to the mountains) were quite damaged, and I had to get out of the car quite a distance before the trailhead. I had to walk a considerable distance carrying my equipment."



Within the 30km exclusion zone of the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. Shooting began one month after the accident. I wanted to ask frankly about the fear of radiation.


"The first few times, there was fear. However, as I gained more knowledge about radiation, that fear gradually subsided. Specifically, I don't believe there were any effects from staying there for up to half a day. But of course, I rarely encountered anyone in the mountains. It was a normal mountain with hiking trails."



The photographer carrying equipment into the mountains was not someone who inspired confidence in the local residents. In other words, he was a suspicious person. He was stopped several times. "Of course, I was stopped several times. There were even times when they said, 'Please wait, I'm going to call the police.' I waited, and in front of the police and the local residents, I explained my work. Well, since I wasn't doing anything wrong, it actually gave me the opportunity to hear directly from the locals."


Imai wrote the following in the press release for this exhibition.


"I, not being a party involved in the proper sense, thought that if I did nothing, like many other disasters, this disaster would slowly be forgotten. To forget is to become accustomed. I did not want to become accustomed to the fact that there was a blank semicircle in a place that could be reached by driving for four hours."


"Semicircle Law"—A semicircle, that is, the 30km exclusion zone around the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. For 20 months, the photographer ventured into this semicircle. The resulting works are a testament to the photographer's desire not to forget this semicircle.



Photobook | Tomoki Imai "Semicircle Law"

Published by Match and Company

¥3,990

Hardcover / 64 pages / 28 works / H23 x W28.1cm

Art Direction: Satoru Machiguchi

Essay [English, Japanese]: Charlotte Cotton and Taro Amano (Chief Curator, Yokohama Museum of Art)