Shōji Ueda by Ueda
Shōji Ueda was a sedentary adventurer, ceaselessly exploring the dunes that sculpted the landscape throughout the seasons. His keen eye was drawn to everything around him: a map of the world, a wheat field caressed by the wind, a boy in roller skates, the graceful figure of his wife, Norie…When Ueda wasn’t out wandering, he composed still lives of seasonal fruit and incongruous objects, small treasures found here and there.
This publication is the first trilingual monograph devoted to his work, and brings together a great many previously unpublished photographs, in both black and white and colour. For the occasion,
Chose Commune has given carte blanche to the writer Toshiyuki Horie (Yukinuma and Its Environs, The Bear And The Paving Stone), whose text is like musical notes resonating with the photographer’s distinctive universe.
I didn’t know what to make of my grandfather’s words. Color? I’d never heard that word in any school I’d ever been to. He must have picked it up among the images he’d seen projected inside his skull. The holes in our heads work exactly like pinhole cameras: when you take off the cover, the image outside hits the wall inside, upside-down. Our conscious brains need only correct an image by flipping it right-side up. When the pressure building inside peaks, we can release it by taking the cover off and letting the outside world enter inverted. When the stick fills the hole again and everything goes dark, the latest scene collides with the darting particles of memory, producing a flash of light. It lights up something hidden on the other side of our world. Still, it’s basically impossible to know how it works until it happens to you. —Yes,
The book will be shipped only in October 2015.
Shōji Ueda (1913-2000), one of Japanese photography’s most remarkable figures, remained profoundly attached to his birthplace of Tottori, on the Sea of Japan, which he used as a backdrop for the vast majority of his work.