From December 11th (Wednesday), the "Once in Harlem" photo exhibition by New York-based photographer Katsu Naito will be held at "ART UP" within the Men's Creators section on the 2nd floor of the Isetan Shinjuku Store, Men's Building .

Since 1983, he has lived alone in New York City, and later moved to Harlem, which at the time was a slum and known as one of the most dangerous areas in the world. He has been photographing the lives of the people living there ever since. Furthermore, he has strong ties to the fashion industry, having held a solo exhibition at Nepenthes New York.

Here, we asked about his journey to becoming a photographer, his life in the field, and his thoughts on this exhibition.

Katsu Naito

Born in Ota Ward, Tokyo in 1964. Gemini. Moved to the United States in 1983 and picked up a camera as a way to overcome language barriers. In 1987, he settled in Harlem and began the life that would become the foundation for "ONCE IN HARLEM". Around 1990, he started photographing in Harlem and simultaneously began photographing street prostitute couples in New York. In 2010, he held a solo exhibition of portraits of prostitutes, "WEST SIDE RANDEZVOUS," at Nepenthes NY. In 2011, he published "WEST SIDE RANDEZVOUS," a book of photographs of prostitutes in New York in the 1980s. In 2018, he published "ONCE IN HARLEM," a photobook of Harlem, New York.

It took me two years to gain trust in Harlem, a place that doesn't welcome outsiders.

—Apparently, his initial purpose for going to New York was to work as a kitchen chef there.

At the time, there was an open call for a chef position at a Japanese restaurant in New York for three years, so I applied and went for an interview. It turned out I was the only applicant. I guess I wasn't very popular (laughs). The interview was over, and the following month I was off to New York – it was an incredibly fast schedule.

—New York in the '80s was more than exciting enough for young people from Japan.

My restaurant job ended around midnight and started again at noon the next day, so I had relatively free time in the evenings. I was 18 at the time, so I wanted to experience all sorts of things and spent my nights hanging out in clubs. But I couldn't speak English at all. So I bought a camera as a communication tool. I had used one before when I was in Japan, so I wasn't a complete novice.

I used to buy clothes from thrift stores and other cheap shops, dress my child in them, and take pictures. That's how I got hooked on photography. Also, the scenery and cityscapes were so different from Japan, which was refreshing, so maybe that's what sparked my desire to take pictures. I quit my job as a kitchen chef after a year and a half, and that's when I really started to immerse myself in photography.

I guess you could say I got tired of the club scene, or rather, it suddenly became boring to me. So I was looking for something new and exciting, and Harlem had always caught my attention. But back then, Harlem was a place where people wouldn't go unless they had a very good reason, and it was quite a dangerous area. But precisely because it was so dangerous, I was incredibly curious about it. I just had to see it for myself, so I went there for the first time.

Harlem has no tall buildings, and the sidewalks are wider than in other places, so it feels incredibly open. Back then, there were a lot of vacant lots and abandoned buildings, and the population density was extremely low. I lived in a district called the West Side, and I would go to Harlem with my camera, but I felt like it was a place where you couldn't just take your camera out of your backpack and take pictures. It wasn't so much that it was dangerous, but rather that it felt rude for an outsider to come in with a camera and take pictures without permission. That kind of atmosphere permeated Harlem at the time.

At first, I was constantly ignored, but then I moved to a new neighborhood where there was a club-like place where older motorcycle enthusiasts from Harlem would gather. I went there almost every day and drank until dawn. It's easier to make friends in places like that, isn't it? I felt like I had overcome the first hurdle there. From there, I gradually expanded my circle of friends. My purpose was to take pictures, but I never revealed that at all.

I want to continue taking pictures of people who move me and interest me, wherever I am in the world.

I started carrying my camera around after I gradually got used to the neighborhood. I had a camera, but at first I didn't take pictures. Then there was a moment when I felt like it was okay, like when I became friends with kids or elderly people. It was around the time they started letting me take pictures of those moments that I first felt like I could create my own place in Harlem.

It's changed quite a bit, and it's a safe place now. There's no trace of the old days. Buildings started going up from around the end of the 90s, and the Black people who had lived there for a long time moved out. When I was taking pictures, it was what's called 'Old Harlem,' but it changed just as I finished taking photos. I think it's great that the area is safer now, but there are quite a few people who say it was better in the old days. I currently live in East Harlem.

With black and white, you can control the photo. I only shoot with film, and although there are so many different types of film, I've found a way to set it up and develop it however I like, and black and white is the only way to do that. I only use digital cameras for work, like a Polaroid, and I don't use them for anything else.

I felt very grateful. This is the first time I'm showing my prints in Japan, so I think it's a great opportunity. And I just want people to feel what they see honestly. I don't have any particular parts of the photographs that I want people to look at. I'd rather the viewer imagine it for themselves. I'll provide some framework or explanation if asked, but I don't have any preconceived notions. I leave it up to the viewer's free sensibilities. I think that's one of the interesting things about photography.

I used to be interested in it. In the early '90s, I lived in Shinjuku for a while and used to hang out in places like Kabukicho and Shin-Okubo. At the time, an acquaintance introduced me to someone who was familiar with the underworld of that area, and I tried to negotiate with them to take portraits of the many streetwalkers there were, without their makeup on. But in the end, it didn't work out because it was complicated by yakuza interests. Of course, I'm still interested in the city, so if I come across someone who catches my eye, I'd like to take their picture.

The moment I see them, something stirs inside me. It's like a strong urge to "take a picture!" wells up inside me. So even if you ask me what kind of person they are, I don't know myself until that moment arrives. But those kinds of people are revealed in their clothes and expressions; there's something about them that catches your eye. At the same time as wanting to take a picture, I become incredibly interested in the person—why they're here, why they're dressed like that, how long they've had that hairstyle, and so on. That's why I feel compelled to take a picture.

Text: Kei Osawa

Photo: TAGAWA YUTARO (CEKAI)

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• Isetan Shinjuku Store, Men's Building 2nd Floor = Men's Creators
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