Imagine Loki always over-indulging, taking showers and baths so long that it’s becoming a nuisance to you, his roommate. When you finally have enough of it, you hammer on the bathroom door yelling for him to get out–but the door isn’t closed properly, and swings open from your knocking.
Loki stands there in the shower/sits there in the bathtub with a devious grin on his face.
There is a dark, brooding beauty in these images that is singular and affecting. In The Solitude of Ravens, Fukase found a subject that reflected his darkening vision, and he pursued it with obsessive relentlessness. It remains his most powerful work, and a kind of epitaph for a life that has been even sadder and darker than the photographs suggest. Ravens have long stood as a symbol of power in Japanese mythology, but these days they tend to be seen more as a powerful nuisance. While their huge numbers and more aggressive nature has been just that lately in Japan, these things have been caused by a human problem in too much waste being made. The Crow Tengu play tricks on evil-doers in spiritual roles, maybe the crows are copying them in the environmental. The Solitude of Ravens was Masahisa Fukase’s last work before he plunged into a coma. This is a monumental and pivotal work in the history of fine art photography. After his divorce from his wife Fukase began a search for absolution through his work which would last a decade. His images crystallize solitude and death, appropriate to his last years. He became obsessed with his subjects, with their darkness and loneliness.