Toshihiro Komatsu

- toshihiro komatsu home

小松敏宏：建築／写真の内と外

藤　井　　匡

建築であること、そして、写真であること。小松敏宏の〈CT〉シリーズを、まずは、そのように記述することができるだろう。ただし、それを作品の「内容」と「形式」に区分してしまうと彼の意図は伝わらなくなる。この二つは切り離すことのできないものとなっているが、そのことによって、通常の写真とは異なる特異な空間が現れてくるのである。

人間が長年生活していた建築空間に顕著だが、その写真にはある〈気配〉が写し出される。私たちが受け取るのは、建築家によってつくられた当時の姿ではなく、住む人間が生活上の必要から持続的につくり直していった姿の方だからである。部屋の中に置かれているさまざまな事物は、よく見ると、古いものと新しいものとが混在している。時系列的にはバラバラなのだ。それらが年季の入った木製の柱や梁などによって統合されるのである。

〈気配〉ということでは、その空間での生活者が写真の中に不在であることも関与する。過去の〈CT〉シリーズの作品でも、基本的に、写された中に人間が入り込むことはなかった。住む人間の「不在が写されている」といってもよいかもしれない。そうした中で、母と子が佇む様子が写されたものが含まれるのは新しい展開といえる。過ぎ去ったものを次の世代が継承していくという「つながり」を暗示するからである。

加えて、カメラが本来的に「部屋」を意味する言葉であることにも注意する必要がある。ここでは、写すものと写されるものが相似形の関係となる。実際、〈CT〉シリーズは空間が壁で仕切られていることを条件とするため、写されたものは「閉じられた空間」の印象を与える。小松自身はカメラの後ろにいて、写されたものの中には不在だが、建物の部屋の中にいることで、写真の内側にいると見なすこともできる。こうした内側に入り込んでいる感覚は小松のインスタレーション作品にも通じるところがある。

外側でもあり内側でもあるという立ち位置の両義性はこのシリーズの空間の特異性を説明する契機になる。手前側の部屋の壁に穴が開いていることに意識が向かいやすいが、それだけでなく、奥行きが縮約されているように感じられることが注目される。カメラと結びつけて論じられることの多い、ルネサンス絵画の連続する無限の奥行きとは異質なのだ。それらは「窓」の比喩で語られるように、制作者／鑑賞者はその外側に位置している。このちがいは矛盾というほどに大きいものではない。わずかな違和感にすぎない。それでも、この違和感は建物の醸し出す〈気配〉を喚起することにつながっている。

奥を見通すことのできない壁に穴が開いたよう見える小松の作品は、視覚的なトリックを主題としたものと思われるかもしれない。だが、おそらくは逆なのだ。トリッキーな表現が多く登場した1960年代末から1970年代の写真がそうであったように、小松の主題は、身体性を喚起することで、人間が「ものを見ること」そのものを問い直すことにある。建物（建築）とカメラ（写真）の入れ子構造はそのためにセットされたものなのである。

（美術評論家、キュレーター、東京造形大学教授）

Toshihiro Komatsu: Inside and Outside of Architecture/Photography

It is architecture, and it is photography. Toshihiro Komatsu's CT series can be described in this way. However, if we divide them into “content” and “form,” his intentions will not be conveyed. The two are inseparable, and this makes a peculiar space to emerge, different from that of ordinary photography.

A certain “presence” is captured in photographs, and this is especially true when the photographs are taken in architectural spaces where people have lived for many years. In such cases, we do not perceive the architect's original intention, but rather the way the people who live in the building have continuously remodeled it in response to their daily necessities. If we look closely at the various objects placed in the room, we can see a mixture of the old and the new. Chronologically, they are all in disarray. They are integrated by the aged wooden pillars and beams.

The absence of the people living in the space in the photographs also contributes to the “presence” of the room. In the past works in the CT series, basically, no human being appeared in the photographs. It might be said that “the absence” of the inhabitants were captured in the photographs. In this context, the inclusion of the photographs of a mother and child, sitting together, could be described as a new direction to this series. This is because it suggests a “connection” between what has passed and what will be inherited by the next generation.

In addition, it should be noted that the word “camera” originally means a “room.” In this case, the photographer and the photographed are in an analogous relationship. In fact, since the CT series requires the space be partitioned by a wall, the photographed object gives the impression of an “enclosed space.” Although Komatsu himself is behind the camera and not present in the photographs, he can be considered to be inside the photographs by being inside the rooms of the building. This sense of “being inside” is similar to Komatsu's installation works.

The ambivalence of the position of being both outside and inside provides an opportunity to explain the specificity of space in this series. It is easy to become aware of the hole in the wall of the room in the foreground, but it is also noteworthy that the depth of field seems to have been reduced. This is different from the continuous infinite depth of Renaissance paintings, which are often discussed in connection with the camera. As the metaphor of a “window” suggests, the creator/viewer is positioned outside of it. This difference is not so great as to be a contradiction. It is only a slight discrepancy. Nevertheless, this discomfort leads to the evocation of the “presence” created by the architecture.

Komatsu's work, which appears as if there is a hole in a wall that is ought not to be seen through to the back, might be thought of as a visual trick. But perhaps the opposite is true. As was the case with photography of the late 1960s and 1970s, when many tricky expressions appeared, Komatsu's theme is to question the very nature of human “seeing” by evoking physicality. The nested structure of the building (architecture) and the camera (photography) is set up for this purpose.

Tadasu Fujii (art critic, curator, professor of Tokyo Zokei University)

It is architecture, and it is photography. Toshihiro Komatsu's CT series can be described in this way. However, if we divide them into “content” and “form,” his intentions will not be conveyed. The two are inseparable, and this makes a peculiar space to emerge, different from that of ordinary photography.

A certain “presence” is captured in photographs, and this is especially true when the photographs are taken in architectural spaces where people have lived for many years. In such cases, we do not perceive the architect's original intention, but rather the way the people who live in the building have continuously remodeled it in response to their daily necessities. If we look closely at the various objects placed in the room, we can see a mixture of the old and the new. Chronologically, they are all in disarray. They are integrated by the aged wooden pillars and beams.

The absence of the people living in the space in the photographs also contributes to the “presence” of the room. In the past works in the CT series, basically, no human being appeared in the photographs. It might be said that “the absence” of the inhabitants were captured in the photographs. In this context, the inclusion of the photographs of a mother and child, sitting together, could be described as a new direction to this series. This is because it suggests a “connection” between what has passed and what will be inherited by the next generation.

In addition, it should be noted that the word “camera” originally means a “room.” In this case, the photographer and the photographed are in an analogous relationship. In fact, since the CT series requires the space be partitioned by a wall, the photographed object gives the impression of an “enclosed space.” Although Komatsu himself is behind the camera and not present in the photographs, he can be considered to be inside the photographs by being inside the rooms of the building. This sense of “being inside” is similar to Komatsu's installation works.

The ambivalence of the position of being both outside and inside provides an opportunity to explain the specificity of space in this series. It is easy to become aware of the hole in the wall of the room in the foreground, but it is also noteworthy that the depth of field seems to have been reduced. This is different from the continuous infinite depth of Renaissance paintings, which are often discussed in connection with the camera. As the metaphor of a “window” suggests, the creator/viewer is positioned outside of it. This difference is not so great as to be a contradiction. It is only a slight discrepancy. Nevertheless, this discomfort leads to the evocation of the “presence” created by the architecture.

Komatsu's work, which appears as if there is a hole in a wall that is ought not to be seen through to the back, might be thought of as a visual trick. But perhaps the opposite is true. As was the case with photography of the late 1960s and 1970s, when many tricky expressions appeared, Komatsu's theme is to question the very nature of human “seeing” by evoking physicality. The nested structure of the building (architecture) and the camera (photography) is set up for this purpose.