Jiro Takamatsu

The works of the Japanese artist Jiro Takamatsu feature photographs lying on tables, leaning against walls, or placed casually around the room—photographs of photographs.

For his series Photograph of Photograph, Takamatsu arranged his own family photos in his apartment and in his studio, and then he had a photographer take pictures of them. Some of these prints are bent or propped up against something. Light reflects off their surfaces, partially obscuring the actual images.

When looking at a photograph, we usually concentrate primarily on what it depicts. Who do we see? Where was the picture taken? Takamatsu, however, draws our attention to something else. He makes the photographic prints themselves the main characters in his pictures.

We suddenly notice things we would otherwise easily overlook: creases, signs of wear, shiny surfaces, or worn corners. The photographs appear here as objects with a story of their own.

We might recognize this from our own old family photos. Some have been handled often. Others sit in a drawer for years. Time leaves its mark on them.

Precisely because the subjects of these photos are difficult to recognize, our imagination begins to take over. What could the pictures show? What memories lie hidden within the images?

Takamatsu doesn’t give us any answers. Instead, he makes it clear that we can never fully grasp memories. Like the photographs themselves, they, too, may fade, change, or survive only in fragmentary form.