To sum up the work of Moriyama Daidō is a difficult thing, in a word it may be called vulgar, sordid, disgusting or downright pornographic. With an ongoing career spanning most of 70 years he continues to cultivate a back-catalogue of work second to almost none. Beginning in the early 60s he worked as apprentice to legendary photographer Eikoh Hosoe who’s influence on Moriyama is abundantly clear, Hosoe’s work famously centres on the human form, often framed equal parts erotically and grotesquely, always in black and white. This same description could more than aptly be applied to much of Moriyama’s work. His initial work with Hosoe had Moriyama assisting with the production of ‘Barakei (Killed by Roses)’, a now equally celebrated and controversial collaboration between Hosoe and infamous nationalist author Mishima Yukio, a fitting beginning to the career of a photographer who would inevitably be embroiled in controversy. Hosoe’s exploration of the naked form would go on to influence Moriyama massively as he went on to produce his own work. His first book ‘Japan: A Photo Theatre’, would be released in 1968 and Moriyama’s style was firmly cemented.
The unmistakable look of Kodak Tri-X 400 pushed to 1600 iso, every time, night and day, developed sloppily in poetically high temperatures. Grain is overpowering, as are the shadows, and highlights, it's all overpowering.
Despite my lengthy one, his work really needs no introduction, his ‘stray dog’ and ‘tights’ are among the most famous photos of all time, and yet probably not recognisable to the general public, as is the way with artistic photography, most everything outside of pressing photojournalistic work and celebrity portraiture goes tragically unnoticed. Moriyama is no exception, and yet he’s never tried to be one. Choosing the less savoury subjects for his photography, Moriyama’s work was never going to be marketable, be it portraits of prostitutes, photos of garbage or ugly stray dogs, he never really planned to be Annie Leibovitz. He never really tried to be anything for that matter, in fact he never really tried, employing perhaps the most effortless approach to photography of any notable artist to ever use the medium. Favouring point and shoot film cameras, shooting in aperture priority and not thinking about anything as he shoots, just taking photos almost out of reflex, this results in undeniably bizarre images that often feel like scenes you shouldn’t be looking at that you catch a glimpse of out of the corner of your eye before hurriedly looking away in embarrassment or disgust.
My favourite series by Moriyama and favourite book of all time is Shinjuku, released in 2002 it catalogues Tokyo’s Shinjuku ward in familiar Moriyama style, when asked about his reasoning for shooting Shinjuku so extensively he described the region as ‘narcotic’, I feel that this perfectly describes the images he’s shot there. As pictured above, Shinjuku #11 shows a hand planted on a pole at night, shot with an on camera flash and completely out of focus, with dark painted nails the hand doesn’t feel like Moriyama’s, and yet it is too uncomfortably close to reasonably be anyone else’s, that's all the image give us, a darkened blurry view of the street behind offers a sense of perspective but no further answers. The image is confusing and as with almost all of Moriyama’s work, your questions can’t be answered, he’s probably never been asked, doesn’t remember or never knew himself. Thus is the beauty of his work, you are stuck with him in what would’ve been an otherwise forgotten moment, not something to remember to begin with. I love this image, the utter confusion that it gives you, the inability to aid in it, it’s decidedly ‘narcotic’.
One of the most interesting and infamous series by Moriyama is 1980’s ‘A room’, a collection of mostly female nudes, often shot in fabled Tokyo love hotels as well as other various locations, when looking at the images the first thought in one’s mind will probably be who on earth let some 50 year old photographer take grainy black and white close-ups of their genitals, the answer is prostitutes, probably, but then one is forced to ask, do these women know these images are being made? Most photos show them laying face down, seemingly asleep (hopefully) and unaware of the work taking place. One must simply hope Moriyama’s ever elusive moral compass isn’t making the viewer any kind of accomoplace. Interestingly, the women don’t seem to be objects of sexual desire, they might’ve been at somepoint but as we see them theyre just people without clothes in a room. No.9, pictured above shows a cat sleeping on a pillow seemingly in between a woman’s legs, the cat opens its eyes, peeking into Moriyama’s lens, seemingly the only knowing subject in the image, the pillow contorts in a manner comparable to the woman’s foot, to the point where the two are difficult to distinguish, the grain and contrast are, unsurprisingly, staggering. It’s such an odd image, absolutely perfectly framed, impressive considering Moriyama’s aversion to cropping (too much effort), the tones are muddy and messy, mimicking every single explanation I can come up with for the scenario Moriyama finds himself in.
Moriyama’s work is strange, often difficult to look at and undeniably idiosyncratic, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s the greatest photographer alive. While it may seem he and I have a complicated relationship I am enamoured with his work, many comparable photographers like William Eggleston yearn to capture the mundane and make it interesting, creating ‘proof of existence’, I don’t think Moriyama does, I’m convinced he doesn’t actually yearn for anything. Still, he captures something in a way no one else seems to be able to and I adore every second I have the privilege to spend as an onlooker.
