¿Cette lumière, peut-elle tout un monde nous rendre?

That such a universe is offered to the spectator in the light of the efforts made does not facilitate the perception of the work. But if the viewer allows himself to be swept away by the presence of forms and contours, the persevering observer will gradually appropriate an image that seemed to escape him, to immediately become part of the photographer’s universe. It is precisely between these two extremes that Jun Shiraoka builds a work that is both dense and poetic, thus developing a certain tactile thickness and a personal interpretation of the real in its photographic representation. By opting for this choice, his original work is cemented as an unanswered interrogation, as a rejection of the real world, as a search in its black tempests, the last traces that give meaning before returning to concealment.

Prisoners that we feel between the white of the origins and of a shadow, always carrying the necessary recollection to solve the eternal question about our own identity and its relation with the real in the world that surrounds us.

Jun ​​Shiraoka

 Niihama, Japan

Shiraoka became fascinated with the art of photography when he was a professor of physics at Yokohama University.

From 1979 to the early 2000s, he lived and worked in Paris, where his black-and-white silver gelatin prints were championed by the National Library’s chief curator of photography, Jean-Claude Lemagny, who designated him “the greatest photographer of our time.”

His photographs appear in a monograph by Jean-Louis Schefer on the novelist Kenzaburō Ōe (Paris, Marval, 1990).

Shiraoka returned to Japan in the spring of 2000, and was a professor of photography at Zokei Art University in Tokyo for a decade.

Regarding the elusive and poetic quality of his photographs, Shiraoka commented in an interview early in his career, “I want to capture on film the feeling I feel…”


Bellan-Huchery Collection