Pierced by pins, tormented by ravens, obscured by bathtub bubbles … the great Japanese photographer created astonishing, disturbing and highly personal images of himself, his family – and his beloved cat Sasuke the Second
‘I wonder,’ wrote Fukase, ‘if any other photographer in the world has photographed as many cat yawns.’ This shot of his cat Sasuke was altered to echo the previous self-portrait Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
Fukase was born in 1934, in a small town called Bifuka on Hokkaido, Japan’s second largest island, where his family owned a photo studio. He moved to Tokyo in the 1950s. This self-portrait, taken in his final year of activity, 1992, has again been altered Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
In 1978, Fukase’s kitten Sasuke – named after a cartoon ninja – disappeared. ‘I put up about 100 lost cat posters,’ he wrote, ‘but he still didn’t come back.’ A woman called him about a stray that ‘looked just like the cat on the poster’, but Fukase realised it was not Sasuke. ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘let’s go with this guy anyway.’ And he took in Sasuke No 2. This image of his cat was altered to chime with the previous 1992 self-portrait Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
This image was taken in 1991 after Fukase had begun returning to Hokkaido. The series, notable for its intensity and introspection, is made up of ‘selfie-style’ portraits Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
Fukase was fond of printing his own work and would often embellish his images to ‘make’ a photograph instead of merely ‘take’ it. This 1992 print is called Berobero, or Sucking, and refers to his habit of licking or sucking people’s tongues Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
This is from a street photography series called Hibi, which translates as Cracks. They can be found in everything here, from the road markings to the surface of the pavement. Fukase often painted over his black-and-white bromide prints with bright colours Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
Fukase gained a reputation as a radical photographer for his earlier series The Solitude of Ravens. Made between 1975 and 1982, it followed the end of his second marriage, to Yōko Wanibe. Fukase used the bird as a symbol of his own solitude, even saying in 1982 that he had ‘become a raven’ Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
The ravens were realised in moving, near-monochrome prints, intended to symbolise his own heartbreak after he and his wife divorced Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
This image, from 1992, is a return to one of his favourite motifs. In Japanese mythology, ravens are disruptive creatures, omens of turbulent times Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
Fukase’s series Memories of My Father resulted in a book that combined Fukase’s own pictures and shots from the family archive. The result is a kind of visual biography of his father, seen here in 1986, one year before his death. The images trace the elder Fukase’s childhood, then his family life and into middle and old age, ending with cremation and memorial Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
It’s no surprise Fukase ended up a photographer: his family ran a portrait studio business in Hokkaido. Fukase, far left in this whole-family group from 1975, got his start as a documentary photographer for magazines Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
