岩本幸一郎
/ Koichiro Iwamoto

Intentions, Emotions, and Emotional Scars

I believe that it's enough for a work to exist and for people to see it. I'd like them to feel it freely. However, I've always liked to delve into why things are the way they are, and where their roots lie. This might be related to growing up in an environment where both my parents were involved in art. Once, when I was little, I saw an abstract painting with my parents, and I couldn't understand what it depicted at all. My parents taught me a way of looking at it, saying, "Perhaps the person who painted this has some emotional wounds. And that's why it turned into these colors and shapes." I think it wasn't about whether it was correct or not, but rather about imagining what was being expressed. From then on, I grew to love painting.

Of course, there are times when a photograph is complete just by being visually appealing. But I believe that if you can feel the creator's intentions, emotions, and even their emotional scars somewhere in the work, even if not directly, you'll like that work more and be able to cherish it. I highly value that feeling.

Currently, I'm gradually holding a trilogy of exhibitions. The first one was titled "isolation" and the second "Self harm." "Isolation" sounds negative, but the figures in the photos are not alone; there are two. The root of the theme is "recollection of memories," for example, visualizing the scene where my parents met before I was born, through the filter of "time." Since it's not a clear scene, the works are created by repeatedly copying, printing, and then re-copying photographs taken with film. It's also a feeling of both aligning and distancing current memories with scenes and emotions seen years ago. In the second series, I'm also continuing the process of repeated copying, but like the term "Self harm," I challenged myself to a different form of expression from the first by scratching the film used to photograph landscapes.

My Encounter with Photography and
Photos That Offer New Discoveries Every Time I See Them

I've lived alone since graduating from junior high school, and I haven't attended a photography vocational school or art university, so I'm self-taught in photography. My first experience with a camera was around the age of 20 when my father gave me his Leica M6. At first, I only liked it as an "objet," but one day, I encountered the photographs of Itaru Hirama at an exhibition. I was so deeply moved that I immediately contacted him and ended up working for him as an intern. I didn't even know how to load film, so I had to be taught everything from scratch. However, talking with Mr. Hirama in the car after a shoot, asking "How does that sunset look to you?" and organizing my own feelings during those stimulating times are very precious memories.

I've loved photography ever since I encountered it. However, having my body is not a given, and I don't know what will happen tomorrow. While being aware of such things, I want to create works that can be seen by many people and pique their interest, even a little. I want to create "evolving works" that feel new every time you look at them, even though they are a single piece.