The Tokyo Photographs
(by Seth High for SWEET DREAMS)

The posthumous release of Czech artist Emil Davits’ photographic monograph, Tokyo People; 1996-97, shocked me on several different levels. To begin with, during his short lifetime, Davits was known not as a photographer, but as a provocative interior designer and ‘anti-architecture activist’. However, the main reason this publication surprised me was the fact that I had interviewed Emil Davits in Tokyo during the same period he had taken this particular body of photographs, yet I knew nothing of the project.

Meeting and talking with someone like Emil Davits is one of those rare and unsettling experiences that stays fresh in one’s mind even years after the event (We met in June of 1997). In fact, even without referencing the recording of our conversation, I can still remember several of his quotes almost word for word… “Wandering one of Bombay’s side streets, I came upon a group of children quietly sifting through a giant pile of semi-rotten vegetables and thought, this is what all supermarkets should be like.” Later in the interview, he suddenly criticized the suit I was wearing by saying, “It is so easy to see that for you, clothing is just a hiding place.” In contrast to my professional attire, Davits was wearing blue Easter Island/Moai-themed ‘Quicksilver’ shorts as well as a t-shirt that stated in bold lettering, ‘THE MYSTERY OF MUSIC’.

I can also still vividly recall the strange and perfectly Davits-like environment in which we met. Contemporary Architects Digest, whom I was writing for, arranged for me to interview Davits at his Japanese Publicist’s office on the 34th floor of the Nishi-Tamachi Building, which served not only as his agent’s place of business, but also as his apartment and breeding ground for pet hamsters. The so-called ‘lounge’ overlooked the still half-naked Odaiba/Ariake artificial island, which was host to one of Emil’s more anarchic Tokyo projects, namely, ‘The Mitsukoshi Bargain Boats: Floating Summer Sale!’.

With the exception of constantly scratching his neck, Emil Davits showed no sign of nervousness or impatience during the long interview. No matter how absurd his responses (“In terms of scale, beans are of far more universal importance than architecture, yet there are not yet any international magazines about beans… Maybe I should change this…”), he spoke in businesslike tones and did his best to answer each question in detail. He spoke on the beauty of flea markets and Tahitian funeral processions as well as about his current projects, which were at that time abundant and diverse. For Muji in Kunitachi, he built an actual parking lot on the third floor of the store (as sales space). For the National Institute of Science, he curated an exhibition of soil from 7 continents and 78 countries, most likely giving Tokyoites their only chance to ever ‘walk’ on Antarctica. One topic that never came up during our conversation, however, was the body of over 9,000 grainy black and white photographs he had secretly been taking in Tokyo. At first glance, it is hard to believe that the photographs which make up Tokyo People; 1996-97, were actually taken by Emil Davits. Unlike his interior work, which is often labeled ‘conceptual-surrealist’, Davits’ Tokyo photographs use no color or sensationalist gimmicks. Even though he never allowed photographic documentation of his own temporary interiors, for this project, Davits’ took the initiative to document the human environment in which he lived for 10 months during 1996-97. These straightforward photographs almost exclusively feature people and can perhaps be called ‘classical’ in an Andre Kertesz or Robert Frank sense.

To my knowledge, up until his bizarre death last winter, he never once spoke or wrote about his photographic activity. Therefore, it is impossible to know not only the motivation behind them, but where photographs should fit within his overall body of work. Jean-Juliet Blumfield, Emil’s long-time partner and collaborator, who is overseeing his estate, also found among Emil’s possessions a portfolio of late-90’s European photographs along with the Tokyo work. Though there are no plans yet for their publication, the European portfolio was exhibited at Galerie Marz-Tillmans in Basel this past August. I was fortunate to attend the show on the same night Bjork played an ‘Emil Davits Memorial Concert’ to raise money for the recently created ‘Davits Foundation for Intuitive Art’.

The fact that the European photos are in a similar vein as the Tokyo work is not insignificant. This shows that, unlike his interiors, these photos are not a ‘one-off’ project. Davits photographed in this manner for at least three years. Furthermore, the care he took in composing and titling these photographs demonstrates his serious intent, as does that fact he used a manual hand-made Leica camera to take the images, not merely an automatic ‘point and shoot’ camera.

Going over the conversation I had with Emil Davits, I found several quotes that might hint at his motivation for creating photographic images of Tokyo. When I asked him what interested him most about Tokyo, he replied, “Tokyo is full framed faces, arms at angles, and people who forget that they are dancing an original dance… Tokyo is as synthetic as my red polyester underwear, and all synthetics fight against the organic. That is why facial expressions and bodily gestures are far more organic and interesting in an artificial city like Tokyo… I guess you can say that I want to make a fake world in order to catch people’s real reactions.”

Though the man himself never smiled, Emil Davits had a wicked sense of humor in both his photographs and interior work. Among the Tokyo portfolio, this can easily be seen in photographs such as ‘Couple and Famous Monkeys’, in which he contrasts a young and seemingly insecure couple with the famous ‘Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Say No Evil’ monkey carving at Nikko. ‘Man in Suit, Girl Riding Cable’ is another humorous work that uses the device of contrast to tell a story about age and human relationships. Simultaneously, there is a sadness to many of the photos that demonstrates a disconnection or distance between people. ‘Sitting Couple in Gray’ shows a generic boyfriend/girlfriend sitting on a generic bench in a generic park. While such a situation might usually suggest an intimate relationship between the boy and girl, this is not to be found in Emil’s photo, which focuses on the fact that the couple is neither touching nor looking at each other. A similar photo (Cherry Blossoms, Father and Son) shows a masked father paying attention to cherry blossoms through the lens of his camera, and not to his own son, who waits nearby. It is easy to see that Davits wasn’t trying to take ‘the perfect shot’ or make some kind of dramatic statement with each image. This portfolio was meant as a collection of observations, none more or less important than the next. As such, Tokyo People; 1996-97 is equal parts nourishment for the eyes and mind.

Emil Davits’ untimely and sensational death at the hands of his own creation has led more people to reconsider the importance of his interior and spatial work. While such projects are of undisputable value, I sincerely hope both art critics and the public don’t overlook the wonderful body of photographic work that sustained and nourished Davits during his most creative period.

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Davits' whirlwind trip through Western Europe in 1998 resulted in this beautiful collection of black and white photographs.