Brush Impression 1533, 2024

Brush Impression 1606, 2024

Brush Impression 1538, 2024

 

Brush Impression

 


When I finally returned to my New York studio after the three-year-long disruption of the COVID-19 pandemic, I discovered that I was in possession of a large amount of photographic paper that had passed its expiry date. Rather like fresh food, this special paper for photographic printing deteriorates over time. The defining feature of my prints is the subtle expression of different shades, which is very hard to achieve with photographic paper that is even slightly degraded. Therefore, what I did was flip my thinking, Copernicus-style. My idea was not to accept deterioration as deterioration per se but to treat it as a form of beautification instead. When ancient works of art are exposed to the operations of time, deterioration usually causes an aesthetic improvement. The white of photographic paper looks rather like albumenized paper, while black tones acquire a certain softness on it. I decided to bring the calligraphy skills I had mastered during three years of enforced leisure into the dark room. In the dim room suffused with pale orange light, I spread out a sheet of photographic paper and then dunk my brush into the developer. In the darkness, I gropingly draw the characters which I cannot actually see. Then, just for a fleeting moment, I expose the paper to a burst of light like a flash. Just the areas that are touched by the brush metamorphose into Japanese characters and float to the surface in black.

 

Having shown that it was possible to do calligraphy using developer, I then tried dipping my brush in photographic fixer. I plied my bush surrounded by the stench of acid; this time it was white characters appearing on a jet-black ground. As I wrote, I tried to concentrate on the invisible characters, focusing my mind on the place where the meaning of the characters would manifest itself.

 

- Hiroshi Sugimoto

 

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