Masahisa Fukase never sought fame through photography. Though recognized in postwar Japan, much of his work remained obscure until after his death—delayed further by a coma from 1992 to 2012. He didn’t exploit his subjects for attention but often pushed them into emotionally difficult territory as part of his introspective process.

Early Life and Family Background

Born into a family-run photography studio, Fukase grew to resent the medium. Forced from age three to handle studio tasks, he described being “force-fed the business… to the point of belching.” This tension with photography and his father shaped his lifelong, complicated relationship with the camera.

Artistic Career

In 1952, Fukase left Hokkaido for Tokyo to pursue photography as art, not trade. His first major exhibition, Kill the Pig, combined slaughterhouse imagery with nude photos of himself and his then-girlfriend, Kawakami. During the project, Kawakami suffered a stillbirth—Fukase photographed the infant and included the image in the show. For him, photography was a way to confront grief. “For me, everything is a commemorative photograph,” he said.

Yoko Wanibe

The project gained attention, but more tragedy followed. Kawakami, pregnant again, left with their child. Fukase spiraled into depression until meeting Yoko Wanibe, who became the most significant subject of his life and work for the next decade.

In 1963, Fukase began photographing Yoko, continuing the emotional thread left by Kawakami. Their first shoot—Yoko in a black cloak at a slaughterhouse—marked the start of a 13-year collaboration and marriage. He photographed her obsessively, including in From Window, a series capturing her daily expressions as she left for work.

Over time, Yoko felt consumed by the project, saying their life felt like it existed only for photography. After she left, Fukase fell into alcoholism and depression, assembling their work as a way to cope. For him, photography became a way to exert control—what he once called a “revenge drama about living now.”

Family Themes in Photography

A 1971 trip to Hokkaido with Yoko sparked two personal projects: Family and Memories of Father. In these, Fukase used his family—especially his father—as subjects, warping the idea of a family album into something eerie and surreal. Yoko appears nude among fully clothed relatives; in other photos, the family turns away from the camera, or Fukase and his father stand in only their underwear

The work mixes new images with old family album photos and has been seen both as collaboration and cruelty—especially a photo of a strong Fukase beside his visibly ailing father. Tomo Kosuga, director of the Fukase Archives, called it a “masterpiece of benevolent cruelty.”

The project spanned 15 years, ending with a staged funeral portrait where a photo of Fukase’s father replaced his physical presence. Two years later, the family studio closed, ending a generational legacy.

Later Life: Animals and Solitude

After losing both Yoko and the family studio, Fukase sank further into isolation, turning to animals—especially cats and ravens—as emotional mirrors. Though he’d photographed cats for decades, it was two he adopted post-divorce that symbolized his loneliness. “I saw myself reflected in the cats’ eyes,” he said. “I wanted to photograph the love that I saw there.”

His most celebrated work, The Solitude of Ravens, came out of this period. In Japanese culture, ravens are omens of sorrow—fitting for Fukase’s grief. Critic Akira Hasegawa noted, “the raven… was both a tangible creature and a fitting symbol of his own solitude.” Selected by The British Journal of Photography as the best photobook of the past 25 years, Ravens is considered a landmark in postwar Japanese photography.

Final Projects and Reflections

Fukase’s final works—Shikei, Aruku Me, and Bukubuku—turned the lens fully on himself.

• Shikei featured landscapes subtly including parts of his body. In Tokyo, he continued it with arm’s-length selfies, rejecting timers and calling every object in the frame a reflection of himself.

• Aruku Me (1986) revisited the places he’d lived since first moving to Tokyo. Overwhelmed with memory, he wandered aimlessly, letting his camera react instinctively.

• Bukubuku (1991) was shot in his bathtub, exploring distorted self-reflections in the water. In his journal, he called it “a world-class masterpiece” and admitted, “My whole life has been nothing but an obsession with photography.”

Death and Legacy

In 1992, Fukase fell down stairs leaving his favorite bar and remained in a coma until his death in 2012. Unbeknownst to him, Yoko visited twice a month for 20 years, later saying, “With a camera in front of his eye, he could see; not without.” His life remains a haunting portrait of obsessive artistic devotion—intimate, isolating, and all-consuming.