Once in a while I should write about some tech stuff… and what other topic than the one that us visual artists care most about: our archives…

Many articles on the web about this, but I’ve always felt that they assume incorrect things. Obviously I don’t want to go as far as being safe for Extinction Events, or being able to administer my archive on my 1987 Nokia phone… let’s say that I stay within certain limits of reason/feasibility, given the fact that I’m a one-man operation. I guess I’m writing this as much for myself as for others :-)

So what do I want to achieve? I want, once and for all, peace in my mind as to the archive of my images, videos, designs and products (magazines, books, posters, etc) (all four of which exist in both analog and/or digital form): that they are secured and controlled accessible.

I want this to be the case for past work, and “live” work that I am doing right now (because of the long term projects I’m involved in). And obviously I want to be able to add future projects.

For that, I have sketched out an archive system, both digital and analog, both online and offline, both home and somewhere else. I believe that this combination offers me the greatest flexibility in working, security for my archived work, and accessibility for others involved. As always, it is a combination of things, tailored precisely to the kind of person I am and the knowledge I possess.

It is that archive system that I’ll be describing here over a series of posts. This first article can serve as an introduction, touching base with different aspects with as much common sense as possible. These are (loosely) the topics that I’ll dive into:

• Description, purpose & terminology
• Archive typology + relationships
• File typology + relationships
• Keywording + IPTC meta data
• File naming + Folder structure

Note the above should work for digital as well as analog: go ahead, read the above topics again, while thinking of film or original prints in a fireproof cabinet of sorts.

I’m not intending to get into debates which technology is best, or which system is better: yes, of course online storage is only 99.99% secure, of course buying all hard disks from the same brand is slightly more risky, of course we don’t really know (yet) if archival quality ink jet prints actually will last 100+ years. And the list goes on. My main point here is: if I make a good combination of all these “ninety-nine percents”, and then relate them to my particular situation, and given the fact I can tweak along the way by adding or changing parts, then i will de facto achieve my optimal “mix”.

Important is that I believe that every archive system should be tailored towards the particular situation of every photographer… Many photographers will have different particulars…. Mine are as follows:

• I travel a lot
• I own a house
• I know technology
• I use a laptop + external disks for at least part of the process
• I create digital (images, video, design, text) and analog (images, video, design, text) content, often mixed
• I work with “stories”, “projects” and “products”
• I have limited time
• I’m not rich :-/

Here is an abstract description of what my archive could be, given the above particulars:

My work is stored across several archives that differ according to type, format, location and accessibility.
Every archive contains a number of files that each have a floating status, format, type, date and a fixed identifier.

What is the reason that I even have an archive in the first place?

The purpose of my archive is to offer security for the original files and master files, workability for the edit files,
and accessibility for the copy files.

OK that was the hardest part…. really. To be able to describe in abstract terms, means you have to have thought this through and tested it all the way to the end: the above description and the purpose were the last things that I distilled after sketching and testing the whole system.
Again, this description or purpose can be very different for others… this is just what I feel is optimal for the way I live, the way I work, and the way I do business.

So now an explanation of the terms used above. Again, I cannot stress enough to think both digital AND analog.

Archive Type:
On one side we have an EDIT and a DEF archive, on the other side we have a LIVE archive, a BACKUP archive, or a VAULT archive. More about this terminology later, but both the EDIT archive and the DEF archive are live, backed up, and vaulted.

Archive Format:
Digital format (HDD, memory card, optical media,…) or Analog format (acid free box with images, filing cabinet, folder,…)

Archive Location:
The physical location of the archive

Archive Accessibility:
How can the archive be accessed: secured physically, digitally, location, connected to power, connected to internet….

File Status:
Original (singular), Edit (work in progress), Master (edition, multiple), Version (connected to job/story/project)

File Type:
Digital, Print, Film or Tape

File Format:
Digital formats (DNG-RAW-PSD-TIF-JPG || MOV-AIFF-MP3 || TXT-INDD-AI-PDF || etc…) and Analog formats (paper type, film type, chemical type, ink type, press type…)

File Date:
Creation date of the Master File (or Original File, if it is the Original File)

File Identifier:
A unique serial number

Security:
Protection against loss/damage/theft

Workability:
Optimal circumstance to be able to work with the archive and its files, depending on the situation

Accessibility:
Levels of accessibility by myself vs. other people (physical and virtual)

Floating:
can change over time until a Master or a Version is reached

Fixed:
Does not change after original creation date

Phew. Enough already… Next time more in detail about archive type, format, location and accessibility.

An interesting footnote: Getting this solution op and running will need an initial investment of max $5,ooo (hardware, software, online storage), and 6 months of work (given the fact that I keep on working my projects as I usually do). It seems like a lot of trouble, but once up and running, this can all be integrated into my standard workflow without extra time needed for future projects, and an annual cost of less than $1,000 (mainly projected estimates of buying hardware and sofware updates and paying for online storage).

The hardest part, as usual, is consistently keywording and captioning works. Don’t we all hate doing that one….

a

(the difference in color between individual images is due to the fact that I only post process images that pass “first edit”)

A long overnight flight home is always a good time for introspection….

(especially in a window seat at the emergency exit, with a full moon outside :-)

I feel blessed being able to do the things I am doing… blessed for the health of my family… and blessed that, even though we are literally scattered throughout the world, once every so often, we suddenly appear to be together in one geographical place – simply enjoying being.

-anton

This time round has been extraordinarily difficult in Tokyo. It has been my longest trip to date (a full month), yet a slew of practical things and unforeseen circumstances have made me go home without a single usable image…

Yes looking at it this way it seems frustrating… But, oddly enough, in hindsight, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be… concentrating on the stuff that comes after shooting the images, proved to be very fruitful. Oh, and of course this very same situation gave me time to get the first issue of 893 magazine out there…. A milestone for me.

—

For some reason, this time we could not get a quick “hello I’m here” meeting with Tanamoto Kaicho, something which we normally always do first thing.

We walked the streets to the places we knew they would hang out, hoping to run into him. But we ended up walking around for over a week….

The area that they control is geographically very compact, yet it proved impossible to even catch a glimpse of anyone’s whereabouts. Very surprising for a sub culture so openly integrated into Japanese society.

—

At first I felt really bad in my little room in Kabukicho… waiting for something to happen. This is not the sort of project where you can make anything happen… you follow the agenda, you do not set it.

And then there was the rain.

During these many room confined Tokyo nights, I often thought about which role photography I felt should be playing in my life, and how attainable that goal actually is.

I mean, we all want to feel like we live “purely” from photography, don’t we? Yet everyone knows that nowadays photography alone (generally speaking) can hardly pay the bills.

But… I wonder… should one ever allow that to be the driving force for a decision to do or to not do?

I’ve always thought that, when making these kind of decisions, one should always, at least for the sake of argument, make abstraction of money…

Or am I being too idealistic here? I mean, of course I know I should keep doing some “other” things to support myself financially… playing wide… Yet I do feel the incredible urge to chuck out everything not directly relevant to photography. Even though I know that all this “other” makes me the person I am today… including my photographic vision.

I guess it’s all about finding the balance and slowly growing in a certain direction, keeping as much life energy as you can… as opposed to cutting away stuff that you don’t seem to like at first sight… Positive versus negative decisions.

—

P.S.

All’s well that ends well…. eventually our meeting did come through, vows were strengthened, and new appointments were made for the future, and I got to hang out again… everyone involved still very much into the story as ever before… And I’m heading back out soon.

I wonder how “wide” a photographer should be playing these days. It seems obvious to me that the time has passed that a photographer is merely required to make a good image.

Input has expanded from photography to video, internet, graphic design, writing,…
Output has grown from just “a book” to a smart mix of different things that make up a whole experience (book, magazine, video, multimedia, website, gallery, exhibition, …)

… and all of it seems to be crucially important. To be able to “widen your output” as a photographer, seems to me to require not only many more “input” skills than you are used to, but more importantly clever thinking what to “output” and how to combine those elements.

After I designed my book, I felt the need to be able to take my images further than just treating them as “photographs” in the traditional way. Not that the book is incomplete in any way, don’t get me wrong… it’s absolutely perfect… but it is also just one of the many parts of the story that is Yakuza.

(FYI the book will be incredibly beautiful and relevant when it hits the presses — for which I’m going to need some very specific help — but more on that next time)

I feel that by adding the stories I tell to my images, in a different way than is possible online, is an incredible enrichment to the story. So I designed a magazine that combines all the above into a package, the way that I actually envision it to be:

I’m not going to lift the veil just yet regarding other things that I’ll be doing while “playing wide”… but 893 Magazine gets the honor of being first in line.

So as of now I’m selling it as a hardcopy. Exciting… I’ll publish an issue twice a year, as long as the project goes.

I’ve worked on it for two months solid, and set the price at what I think it should be… $35 (equals about 25€ or 3000¥), so go ahead… indulge, enjoy… and please spread the word! post it to your blog, twitter it, call up your mom or shout it out in the streets… I depend on your help getting word out there. Seriously.

So grab a copy here… if you dare.

(there’s also a sneak peek option)

Yes I know, it’s a big plunge – this is my first step to carve my way into independently publishing my work.

Obviously this is only the tip of the iceberg, and getting the complete Yakuza project out there will take on many shapes and forms. I’m just secretly hoping that 893 Magazine will gain enough momentum with you buying and spreading the word…….

So there it is. You guys have the scoop. With hopefully many more to come.

Ever since I started this project over a year ago, there has been one particular recurring moment which I, to date, have not been able to gain access to: the monthly general meeting.

(You’re right, I also would’ve guessed that most of the other things I’ve witnessed up till now, would be harder to gain access to than a seemingly straightforward meeting…)

But thinking deeper, obviously there must be a reason: I can just picture all ranking family members being in the same room at the same time, for one, and then I imagine the plethora of sensitive information being shared and discussed, the various briefings and debriefings, business and accounting reports, schedules and what not.

Not that i would understand a single word of it if I tried… but I kind of understand their predicament.

—

But I have persisted for over a year now, and I quietly show up every time, patiently waiting outside the door for the right moment to come. Members trickle in… Glances and greetings are exchanged, respects paid, and short conversations started… Waiting for the bosses to arrive. Then everyone goes inside, the door is closed and the meeting begins.

And I stand outside.

I know I will get in eventually and be allowed to photograph. I’m engaged in that typical subtle Japanese game of  “showing that I would like to do something without openly asking for it” (because if I did, I obviously would owe the person I asked a favor, and this thing would lead to another to another to another… generally a situation desirable to avoid).

—

In the mean time, I enjoy the moment of peace and quiet while watching the Koi in the hallway. These are often the moments that I look back and forward at the same time, reminiscing my place in this world and the place of this project in my life.

Outside, barely a few feet away, the ever-living city passes by…

I arrive early. I’ve hitched a ride with two young recruits who will be trained here. I have no idea where we are, other than that we are at the beach somewhere, several hours away from Tokyo. We park the car and head on to the compound.

It’s a regular little seaside town, and the place we’re staying in is a traditional Japanese guest house. We walk up to the late Miyamoto-san, who is in charge of the annual organization, and greet him. He’s going over the daily routine together with Tanaka-sensei.

Tanaka-sensei is a master swordsman and martial arts teacher, who has fought in the Afghan war in the 1980′s by training the Mujaheddin in different combat and sword fighting techniques. He is here to teach the recruits meditation techniques, unarmed and armed combat, and bodyguard practice.

4.30 am. Wake-up time. Every morning there is a meditation session on the beach, right at the water’s edge. All recruits and a dozen family members are sitting in the sand at equal distances from one another. While Tanaka-sensei corrects postures, everyone sits still, eyes closed, listening to the waves breaking on the beach, the mind empty.

At 5.30 am, still before breakfast, the first training of the day starts: Hand to hand combat techniques.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner are all prepared and eaten together. The food is a fresh as can be, fish caught in the ocean right outside the door. Everyone earns their keep by helping wherever they can.

There are three intense training sessions every day, and in between, exhausted, there seems to be no other option but to rest in the dorms. And with days starting this early, most recruits go straight to bed after dinner. Meanwhile, Tanaka-sensei, Tanamoto Kaicho, Miyamoto-san and the other family members, drink a beer and discuss the schedule for the next day…

…which starts yet again by rising at 4.30am…

I’m exhausted, waiting at the entrance of the tiny bath house at the golf course near Narita, hoping to get in.

—

A couple of hours earlier, while we’re teeing off, Soichiro tells me that playing golf is a good way to really really get to know someone. It’s also one of the first things that Japanese businessmen do, and many business deals in japan are started, if not made, during a game of golf.

I feel ever so slightly uneasy knowing that i am, in part, being “measured up” here… but the beauty is that this is a double edged sword: i can do my own measuring too…

—

Tanamoto Kaicho has just finished his round, and arrives at the bath house. He gestures me to follow him in. I enter the first room, where I undress, put my clothes in one of the many little baskets, grab a small towel to scrub and proceed to the bath and shower area.

In the centre of the room I see a large hot bath with mineral-rich water from a hot spring, surrounded by showers facing the walls, each with a little stool and shower gear.

It’s foggy in here.

The boss’s bodyguard explains i should sit, shower, soap up and scrub first, then rinse, and only after that, go into the bath. Everyone sits together in the bath chatting, once in a while going back to the shower to scrub again, thereby letting the minerals in the water take maximum effect.

Tattoos are banned in many bath houses in Japan… originally this rule was made as a way of indirectly banning the Yakuza (as they were the only ones wearing tattoos). But as slowly more often people start wearing tattoos in Japan, this rule is becoming difficult to enforce. Nowadays, a family will often rent an onsen or sento privately, and all go together. Like now.

—

I didn’t win the game of golf… not by a long shot. But somehow i felt that being able to hold my own, and at the same time talk about anything else but business, was way more important that being to focused on winning.

It’s almost like the game in and of itself seemed irrelevant… and at the same time very relevant on a different level.

So my book dummy arrived last week. yay :-)

It’s kind of funny to notice the different “feels” a particular image has, depending on which medium, or in which circumstance, you view it. Heck even my mood makes me thoroughly dislike an image I’ve loved five minutes before. And vice versa. And this goes on all the time… Being able to delete at the touch of a button is NOT a good thing at these moments :-/

I guess it’s kind of logical that the above is true. but the thing that sometimes floats around in my mind is: is my mood “right”? So will “the” edit be “correct”? What is “correct”? What if i make the “wrong” edit? Is there even such a thing as “the” edit?

Oh my god. Too much parentheses.

—

Actually I’m sure that the “definitive” edit is a myth… Every project I do, has at least half a dozen, and sometimes many more edits. All these edits come together in a story: that one, all-encompassing mega-edit that is the sum of all potential useful images. And there’s more: every project has potentially many stories. And to complicate things even further: as a person you develop different visions over time…  Imagine keeping all this in mind while you’re making that one edit.

And all you can look at is one image at a time.

Basically I guess it boils down to this:

Know thyself very well, what you stand for, who you are as a person.
What you can, and more importantly, what you cannot do.
Knowing this, is your greatest strength.

As time progresses, definitely in long term, documentary-like photography projects, your vision, your story, your edits, continually adjust themselves and multiply or outright influence each other. Being able to keep track of all these things, is imho a good base to tell stories in a solid way (through different edits/projects) and develop a strong artistic vision (over time, over different projects, as a photographer, as a person, as a storyteller).

—

OK sorry… Enough over-analyzing… Basically I just started out writing this because when I held the book dummy in my hands earlier this week, it reminded me of how much pure fun it is to edit and edit and edit again and to foster and see it all grow and come together… I take months to do it, the slower the better. It’s like getting into a brand new relationship with the same images, completely different than the relationship you already have because of making them in the first place… And not at all mutually exclusive… Powerful stuff.

Being able to distinguish between these two “modes” is the key: being able to “divorce” yourself from re-living the moment you took the picture, so you can make that good edit, tell that story.

Of course i’m not forgetting about the major importance of being able to build that initial relationship with your subject(s) in the first place… Because this is where it all starts… If no relationship here, then no chance of ever being able to tell a story, develop a vision… Your own CONNECTION to the subject at the time of photographing… It is the CORE of being able to make a unique story… To be able to feel the story developing in front of you… See your growing vision… To be able to let go of all worldly things and simply get in “the zone” while shooting….

—

So it’s crucial to have both. Go figure. Hard thing to do. As if having one of the two wasn’t hard enough to begin with. how on earth can i divorce myself from those “moments”, and look at the picture in a solely media/edit-biased way without instantly being transported back to the moment? and switch back and forth between modes in an instant?

“Hi, i’m anton, picture editor.”

“Hi, i’m anton, photographer.”

What i do to solve this is basically the following: i let time go over the edits. i let places go over the edits. i let people go over the edits.

For example: small prints are hanging up on the wall in my studio in Belgium, natural light, almost clinical, moving around constantly as my mood changes, like an ever-growing edit;

opposed to that,

yesterday night, Taka-san, dear friend and fixer for this project, held this first book dummy in his hands in his tiny smoky four-person-max-occupancy bar in the red light district in Tokyo at 1 a.m., leafing through it over beers in a steady pace, in low light, sometimes pausing, sometimes asking a question. Nodding affirmatively, sometimes even emotional. Then my brother Malik, Taka-san and i light a cigarette, have a beer, and fall silent.

Which situation would you prefer?

—

Jeez that was elaborate… Basically only to say that it feels different to see someone literally hold your images in their hands in a book in a far away place in the middle of the night, making their own unique story while leafing through….

Hey…

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Bright day. Early morning. A commemoration is to be held for a deceased family member.

The family is in charge of organizing the service. Before dawn, they set up a room with a white shrine and flowers… the family name as well as the person’s own name is displayed above.

Guests and other families have been invited, and by sunrise they are slowly starting to arrive in order to pay their respect. To welcome them, the family of the deceased lines up alongside the room according to hierarchy, Tanamoto Kaicho first. Every member of the mourning family has a white paper flower attached to the jacket.

—

I stand in the doorway silently. I see the guests enter the room, burn incense for the departed, and say a prayer for his sake. After this, they proceed to an adjacent room where they sit and talk to the family boss, have a cup of tea, and smoke a cigarette.

At this point they pay their respect yet again by offering a ceremonial envelope with money inside. The precise amount of this gift is determined by a complex mixture of factors like relationships, business ties, a statement, personal friendships or past commemorations.

—

Soichiro tells me that often the deceased is mourned several times over different services, depending on practical circumstances, or even plain notoriety. I’m imagining the practical implications of organizing a single service in the center of a city with a Yakuza family consisting of several thousand members… In this case, it’s the second commemoration, and also quite intimate. Nonetheless, the endless line of cars is quite impressive. There are several members on “traffic duty”, redirecting (regular) traffic and providing parking space.

—

Every time the next line of cars approaches, Soichiro tells me which family it is, and a few words about or their relationship with them. I watch the members who are lower in rank exit their cars first, and form a line next to the road at the entrance of the shrine. A few seconds later, when the boss pulls up and exits his car, he is surrounded by family members. Everyone bows and greets while he walks past and enters the room.

—

The end of  the day. It’s over. The guests have gone, the rooms have been cleaned and everyone’s ready to leave. Socho, the number one boss, is the first to go… his car drives up and he enters. Again, all members are lined up, this time to say goodbye. I feel a little uneasy, a tall westerner hanging around at the wrong place, having no clue what’s going on.

The car is about to pass by, but then something happens: the car slows down to a stop, and the darkened back window opens to me. This is definitely not standard procedure, and quite a security risk too. I now see the boss sitting there in his car, smiling and looking straight ahead. It takes me a second to realize why he does this… but then I get it.

—

I smile. I take the picture, I bow and pay my respects. The car drives off and disappears in the distance.

Meet Taka-san. He is a great friend and my fixer for the Yakuza project entitled “Odo“. He runs a tiny bar in the heart of Kabukicho in Shinjuku, Tokyo.

Taka’s bar is totally unique. Even in comparison with the area Golden Gai, plastered with hundreds of cool little bars in as many styles, that seat a maximum of about 12, Taka’s bar only has room for 4. His bar is literally a big box in which you can’t even stand upright. No running water, no fridge… just a cooler with a block of ice and a pick, punk music off a battery powered “discman”, and the walls plastered with movie posters and business cards of people that have visited and got drunk…. yes… mine included.

—

Sometimes i sit there, drinking a beer, and I realize: “look at me, sitting here in a frantic city with 20+ million people around me, away from home completely on the other side of the world, in a tiny claustrophobic bar that holds 4″. It does feel quite surreal.

(View of Kabukicho)

Taka’s bar is effectively my base of operations in Kabukicho. As contradictory as it sounds, this bar, frequented by prostitutes and pimps, businessmen and yakuza, old and young, is the safest possible place for my gear. I also regularly check in at night when roaming the streets…. his opening hours are midnight ’til about 7am. Just a quick pop in to say hello ensures him that i’m ok, and he regularly calls when he knows I’m out shooting (that is, if he is not actually physically with me, of course).

—

Then a month ago Taka-san went missing.

—

As he guarantees my personal safety, my brother and I were worried to say the least. With an upcoming trip to Japan only a few weeks away (I was in Belgium at the time), and everything set in place, ready to go, we didn’t know what to do. Nobody of his friends knew where he was, or what had happened.

My brother tried calling him for days, but his phone appeared to be switched off or disconnected. This lasted for two weeks… in the third week we noticed the phone had been switched on again, but we still could only reach voice mail. What had happened?

Also, the deadline to come to Japan was coming closer. Decisions needed to be made. Should we call off the trip? Cancel? Postpone? After long talks my brother and I decided to continue as planned: as the first meeting with the Yakuza was planned only for a few days in, it effectively bought us more time to try and find Taka-san, and also put a backup plan in place (which involved me shooting images related to living in Kabukicho in general).

—

The night I arrived at the airport, he called us… All was ok… Apparently he had taken a holiday for a couple of weeks, and had switched off his phone in the process.

He was genuinely touched by our worries… We’re still finding out the real reason… but… he definitely owes us a beer.

… and a huge shout out to James Estrin… thanks!

check out the story here: http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/11/12/showcase-76/

Antoine D’Agata with beer and cigarette – back staircase on the 6th floor, Brooklyn, New York, 2009

I knew when i had made the image, that something had happened.

But i needed long talks with family and friends to be able to put my finger on what it meant exactly… David, being in Mexico as well, was the first i could talk to. At the time i had no clue how my developing visual language was tied into my own psyche, my own history and personality, and i really needed help contextualizing what i had just created and what it meant to me.

It was a hard time for me right after that image.

It felt like I had touched something very personal, and to be honest i never expected this to happen. I mean, while taking pictures? It got so bad, I’d find myself traveling, wandering the streets all over the world desperately trying to find myself, pointing my camera inwards along the way.

Only very slowly i learned to use this feeling as a positive rather than a constrictive force. But it was hard – and sometimes, when i get into that mood, it still is – to make that switch.

Yes, i’m a gemini :-/

I honestly never thought i would ever even have something resembling anything close to a life long project. It sounds so daunting. It’s sounds so… pompous. So… something that fake artists declare, so… something so not like me, and certainly not something to tell anyone about.

But for some reason, it gives me a tremendous peace of mind and a kind of tranquility that i never expected.

I know i might never complete it, let alone publish it. Come to think of it, completion is not even relevant. But publication is, i guess… And i have a gut feeling that the chance of publishing this project will be directly related to how successful in general i will be as a photographer, because i’m sure i’ll have to use up all my credit to get this one published.

I am, effectively, building up my entire career, just to have enough credit to make this happen.

No joke. That’s how it feels. Sounds weird doesn’t it.

—

The project “dislocate” is more than just photography: it spills over to the rest of my life. My relationship with my family has always been exceptional, and now it is even better; I’m much more at ease in any friend or love relationship; when I’m working, I now work harder and more efficiently; and I love what I do more than before.

On the other hand, I’m also much more intolerant and nervous, and get angry more often, when confronted with things that waste time or energy… I’m much more focused, and realize more than before that we are all given only one time here on this world. And I feel I have to make it count.

—

“dislocate” is not a singular project anymore. It’s an assignment, it’s commercial, it’s art, it’s my life, all at the same time. It does not distract me from any other work i do. It is just, simply, there.  I could best describe it as an energy, a mood that runs through me, all the time. It isn’t even fixed to photography… Photography just happens to be the vehicle to express at this point in time.

“dislocate” forces me to open my mind as wide as i can. It makes me not judge others and listen instead, trying to understand. I honestly believe it might even make me a better person.

“dislocate” is my sense of my place in this world. Me feeling uprooted, my incessant looking for where i belong.

Where my land is.

Funny that feeling dislocated, something that used to unsettle me and make me nervous, now actually makes me feel calm instead.

I still get nervous sometimes though… but not too often anymore.

Actually, I think “dislocate” is never meant to be finished. It is just the thing that makes me feel that i am a photographer.

Hmm…

I hope it never goes away.

(image by Kerry Payne)

So proud and humbled by what we achieved in little over 10 months…

Check out the post on BURN Magazine…

The covert training camp lies somewhere along the shores of southern Japan. I have no idea where i am, after being driven here for several hours, together with young Yakuza recruits who will be trained here.

Greeting Tanaka-sensei, master swordsman, I realize very quickly that i am extremely lucky to be able to witness and photograph this…

—

Most of the images are under embargo right now, but i hope to be able to release them over the next few weeks and tell the story… but I didn’t want to hold back setting the mood already…

What used to be a two-man operation has now grown to a lean mean mini-agency of 5 people, and a turnover we can all live comfortably from.

Ang’l provides me with the necessary  freedom so i can pursue my long term photographic projects, slowly making the transition to making a full living out of those. Because my approach to photography, specializing in long term conceptual documentary photography – yes that is a mouthful indeed – does not readily warrant a steady income right from scratch. You need to pave your own way a fair bit.

But who’s complaining? I have a healthy balance between family & friends, Ang’l web design, BURN magazine, and my own photography here, and the balance is slowly shifting to where i would like it to settle down. And i guess the slower the shift, the more gradual the movement, the more tried-and-tested it will be once i get there. Beats any sudden life-style changes in my book.

At Ang’l we work in a hyper-personal way with our clients. and hyper-flexible. and hyper-professional. Well, we have no choice of course, being the small lean web design agency and all, but we manage to handle a few large clients and a dozen smaller ones exceptionally well.

It’s hard keeping up with technology. Always is. But we try to use Moore’s law to our advantage and make our web experience count, and then rely on a mega cool network of über-high-tech freelancers to do all the fancy stuff that we dream up. Less profit, but a neat way of giving back to the community…

And it spills over of course. I am a photographer who can conceptualize, design and program web sites. Conceptualize, design and print books. Conceptualize, design and produce videos. Work professionally and courteously with any media company i deliver my images to. I believe, i hope that this extra knowledge will foolproof me for the future… the future which is now, which does require more from a photographer than just to be able to shoot exceptional images.

I know, i know… It is hard enough as it is to make exceptional images… only to realize that when you finally do so, people expect all that other stuff as well. It seems unfair. But i guess it’s the only way to make a difference… other than hoping that God or some other higher being will endow you with so much talent that you can forget all that other stuff.

Somehow i believe that the chance of the latter ever happening, is infinitesimally smaller than just working your #ss off and trying to make it happen for yourself.

Tanamoto Kaicho lies motionless, silently enduring the pain. Sensei Horiyoshi applies the tattoo manually, according to ancient traditions, and with his own prepared colors. Although it is said to be less painful than a modern tattoo, the sheer size and complexity of the artwork is daunting. The skillset involved is immense: at precisely 120 stabs a minute with hand-made needles, and at an exact angle and depth, depending on the skin thickness in that particular area, the artist applies his design. Any mistake will show up immediately, and permanently, as an imperfection.

—

Early morning. A long row of cars stops in front of the hotel. When we enter the bar in the lobby, i notice that the place has been cleared completely. As a security measure. The bosses are having a meeting and a coffee. Other family members, sitting at surrounding tables at a different positions, form a physical barrier. I am the closest i can go, in front of a someone staring right at me. Soichiro tells me the man at my table has been in prison for the past 23 years, and recently released. He doesn’t tell me why, but i’m guessing that it wasn’t for shoplifting.

—

Anything below the heart is painful, Soichiro tells me, while we watch Tanamoto Kaicho’s tattoo being completed. Personally, recalling his own tattoo, the inside of the upper leg hurts the most, Soichiro says. Tanamoto Kaicho was once the proud owner of a full body suit tattoo, and had it removed several years later, only to have this new one made. Once complete, he will have spent about 100 hours, in sessions of 2 hours at a time, to get this tattoo.

—

In the hotel bar I am only slowly starting to understand the minutial social order that is continuously happening, the micro-expressions on the faces, the gestures, the voices and intonations, the body language. Everything seems to be strictly organized but at the same time seems to come naturally: strangely, I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do, where to sit, when to talk or when to shut up… it’s like I feel the boundaries, the implicit expectations, and I am slowly learning when I can do, and when to best hold back.

—

As much as they are allowing me to photograph, it as well seems to me that Soichiro is trying to teach me about the subtle Japanese cultural intricacies, and the relation of their family to society. It’s clear to me that they are most definitely not operationg completely “outside” of society. They are, so to speak, one leg in, one leg out. Why is this? How is this possible?

First image from my next long-term project. The Why and the How are a secret for now, but I promise I’ll tell soon :-)

I’ve worked all day to prepare everything. Made galleries on my portable; made prints at Yodobashi Camera. Wrapped everything up nicely to present to him. When we meet at his office around 11pm, Soichiro, my brother, and I go through the whole collection of images i have made up till that point. I’m nervous as hell.

Slowly we go through every gallery, every image… Once in a while he flags one because he wants to ask a question or he wants me to make a print of it. To be presented to the subject on the photo… as a gift. This moment, the first showing of the images, the big first moment, “Are they going to like it? Will they approve?”, actually goes by without a glitch.

I also tell him i’m slowly starting to see the way i want to tell the story, so i show him my first sequenced spread layout on screen. only 20 images. I talk about my views, what i have seen, what i have learned, and that i am setting the mood in this “first chapter”. He agrees and thinks i should continue in the same way.

—

I’m in the front seat, riding with Soichiro in his car on his way to Shinjuku. “One cuts off one’s finger to make a point”, Soichiro explains while driving. “Usually to show the sincerity of an apology after doing something wrong.”

“You cut off a single digit of your own finger in a ceremonial way, while facing your boss, and then you present the severed finger on a folded napkin to him. It reinforces the power of your apology. It shows that you’re serious about what you’re saying.”

Somehow, i don’t feel like questioning that.

—

Post Scriptum:

A month ago, the annual go-around was banned by law; this is effectively the last picture of this happening in the streets of Kabukicho:

—

About the Work

Soichiro is the lead character of the story that i’m starting to tell, about a Yakuza family in Japan. After more than 10 months of preparation, my brother and I have been granted access to start a long-term project to document the visible and hidden life of that particular family. All names used in the account above (and previous and future accounts) are fictional.

Here and on burn magazine, i will regularly provide visual and textual accounts of our adventures.

B+W magazine, special issue #68, 2009

Kabukicho, Shinjuku, Tokyo -

Going deeper underground… Walking the streets with Soichiro and his family. Kabukicho is the red light, food & gambling district of Shinjuku, smack in the middle of Tokyo.

We gather at his office, where he shows me the work of Watanabe Katsumi, a japanese street photographer of this particular district who, for about 40 years, barely making a living, sold his street photographs back to his subjects. Amazing stuff.

I’m surprised that somehow he must have taken the time to research this book and lend it to me to look in. We talk about photography, the schedule that lies ahead of us, and the places he and his family are going to take us to. I am impressed what is in store for us. And excited.

—

Some of the other family members arrive at the office. Everyone is waiting outside, time to go.

—

I’m definitely aware of the weird mix of feelings while walking the streets at night with them, in ‘their’ borough. A mix of respect, fear, clueless-ness, anger and admiration from the people, the hustlers, the shopkeepers, the prostitutes, the restaurants, the tourists, the club owners,…

It’s my first night out shooting. We’re on a so-called “go-around”, where the whole family gathers in fine suits to walk the streets collectively, greeting everyone, being greeted by everyone, in effect unmistakably showing everyone that they are, simply, ‘there’.

The message is crystal clear.

—

Two regular japanese guys walk up to me, smiling and gesturing friendly, apparently wanting to see my pictures.

I see Soichiro in the corner of my eye taking an immediate distance and signaling me, that this is in fact undercover police… The family disperses, like nothing ever happened… Just in time I have the presence of mind to start playing dumb and speak in a way too loud voice “tourist, tourist, picture”…. and I take off in another direction.

They don’t follow me. Close call.

And thus ends the first shoot.

Anton, april 2009

—

About the Work

Soichiro is the lead character of the story that i’m starting to tell, about a Yakuza family in Japan. After more than 10 months of preparation, my brother and I have been granted access to start a long-term project to document the visible and hidden life of that particular family. All names used in the account above (and previous and future accounts) are fictional.

Here and on burn magazine, i will regularly provide visual and textual accounts of our adventures.

I hope to be able to publish a book on this story.

Thanks to my dear friend Angelo Guarracino and Giovanna Lalatta from SPAZIOFARINI6 gallery in Milan,
6 large high quality prints from “sugar” are featured in the Milan Photofestival VIII.

Needless to say, i am very proud to be part of this event… the opening is March 15th, the festival runs till April 15th…

Go ahead, jump in the car and be there, take a look in person, soak it in, and support me by buying a limited edition print!

oh and… you can view a pdf of the leaflet.

cheers,
anton

We both committed to BURN in NYC in December 2008 (after a large gathering of great friends & fellows where the BURN idea actually crystallized – read this), shook hands, and simply went for it. I know we launched on an impossible moment right before or after Christmas – I can’t remember which day exactly – but right now, either one of those days sounds like impeccably bad timing from our part :-)

And throughout the first month we called each other daily… setting up essays, finding new talent, going through submissions, helping photographers deliver their essays and singles, taking care of the tech side, setting up an essay system, spinning ideas….

These days we still call each other daily. Make the editor’s decisions together. Discuss BURN’s future and how we should handle it. Half of the time I’m hopping between Brussels and Japan, and David’s flying from Mexico to Spain to NYC… The time zone differences are massive. We work together from different continents but we do it really well, only needing “half a word” to understand and act. This is our strength…

Of course there are people helping out right now, to whom we are massively indebted… Michael Courvoisier, Bob Black, Kerry Payne, Chris Bradley, and many others that are going to kill me for forgetting them, are all doing extremely valuable work… And of course not to forget the past work of the whole team at the infamous BURN initial meetup at the Kibbutz in NYC……. thanks a million……..

David’s DAH man, but BURN is the both of us together… together making the editorial decisions, guiding the photographers to submit their work, doing the online and offline mentoring, Work-in-Progress and workshops, preparing the carefully targeted marketing of BURN, pitching the BURN story and our ideas to the right people – or at least, what we think are the right people… Looking for funding, hiring staff, freelancers and searching for talent, literally putting young photographers out there to create content for BURN, doing the same with iconic photographers, and pushing forward with the incredible stuff we still have in store…

Keep an eye on BURN… it’s massive. It’s there.

www.burnmagazine.org

Meet Soichiro.

He has agreed to us getting to know each other. Through the barriers of different languages and cultures, we will be approaching each other with the broadest possible open mind. To learn, to tell our stories. To gain trust and to share views.

—

Soichiro and his family control Kabukicho, in the heart of Shinjuku, Tokyo. Not much happens in the streets without his approval.

—

After more than 10 months of preparation and ground work by my brother and our dear friend Taka-san, finally, for the first time, we all meet over dinner. At first, Soichiro lays down the rules. Tells us what we want to achieve is near impossible. He says that the things we want to document, no outsider has ever been allowed to bear witness to. We eat, drink, smoke, and exchange gifts.

—

He invites us to his office. we talk some more. I show previous work, I show prints of Oaxaca and I show prints of “Sugar”. He tells me I photograph with a Japanese eye. He laughs when we ask if it’s true that all family members have tattoos, and if it’s painful to get one.

Then he shows his.

Each tattoo is so personal, he says, full of meaning to the bearer and his family. Only Sensei Horikyo tattoos for his family.

—

No rush. He understands and wants us to take time to get to know his family, time to develop our view. He believes in our way of working, and is confident we will bring this to a good end. He thinks in years, not days or weeks or months.

He does a lot of legwork in his family. Even though he his a boss, he still speaks to his bosses who in turn speak with their bosses. Within two days, we are invited to witness a closed meeting. Four members apologizing to the family for being in jail. My brother and I are nervous as hell going in.

No pictures allowed yet, but now we know. Soichiro walked the walk and committed. Our project has begun for the next couple of years. My brother and I… and Soichiro. Becoming friends, telling the story… I hope everything will work out.

—

Anton Kusters, january 2009

(over the next few months, i will actively be seeking funding, to be able to complete this long-term project)

A story set in Oaxaca, Mexico, during the Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos), about the ghosts that are the fleeting moments of our existence in this world.

“I see a Ghost” has been published in B+W Magazine, special issue #68, 2009. More info here.

hey folks…

proud to tell you that “sugar” is being featured over at burn magazine, an evolving journal for emerging photographers….

burn is curated by magnum photographer and dear friend david alan harvey…

hello.

The story “sugar” will be featured on slideluck potshow DC III this weekend (saturday nov 15th, 7.00pm EST). They teamed up with Fotoweek/DC. i feel greatly honored to be included… so please go and check it out…

birgit is a dreamy dreamgirl
six years old always happy
gets up in the morning does her hair
diabetes the number one kind

playing with friends
riding the bike
four insuline injections
each and every day

barbie dolls and trampolines
beaches, oceans and corn flakes
seven daily blood checks
baby-G with six alarms

intimate, close
always happy
sometimes pain
she’s an angel

———-

“Sugar” is a story about Birgit, a six year old sweet kiddo. She’s been diagnosed with diabetes about a year ago. Incurable. This story is about how, through her, I myself am being confronted with the fact that her illness is much more of an issue to me than it is to her. She taught me a lesson there… The things that are on top of a kid’s list, should in fact be on top of anyone’s list:

Life is about playing with friends and family and having fun as much as you possibly can.

These intimate, close images, are freeze-frames out of her daily life. Random. Lots of different moments. Almost no visual context. Bare essentials. More about feeling the moment than looking at the moment.

There is no beginning and no end. A collection without order. You will recognise inside, outside, darkness, light, a bike, a bed or even a beach. But they are all irrelevant…

Just try to hear the laughter, hear the playing… Remember your own childhood… Feel like you’re there up close with her, her brother and her sister. Sometimes she will notice you and say hi. Sometimes she will play and laugh with you until her stomach aches. Sometimes you feel like you need to let her be, dreaming.

She stares into the sea.

—

Sugar has been published on Burn Magazine, Slideluck Potshow DC III 2009, and has been exhibited in the Milan Photo Festival VIII 2009. More info here…

Braakland ZheBilding…

ten young actors in a play about
their fears
their hopes
their secrets
their shames
their inability
to do anything about it…

- set in an abandoned hospital wing -

“i’ve got so much to do, so much to achieve, how can i ever have the time to do it all…”

so easy…

just drop me a line at anton[at]antonkusters.com…

or fill in the form here: