On omnipresent photography：Shiga Lieko's new folktales of Tohoku visualize the world of the invisible

“When that 10-ton truck thundered past right in front of me, I was stunned. What on earth was that? So, I set out to find the owner of the truck”, recalls photographer Lieko Shiga as she is preparing for the upcoming exhibition “Jam Session: Ishibashi Foundation Collection × Chikako Yamashiro × Lieko Shiga: In the midst of” opening at the Artizon Museum in Nihonbashi from October 11 until January 12, 2026. Shiga recounts her experience as revelatory. It was almost as if the truck had guided her into another world.

Born in 1980 in Aichi Prefecture, Shiga has raced through the world of Japanese art photography much like a runaway truck. A graduate of London’s Chelsea College of Arts, she received the 33rd Kimura Ihei Photography Award in 2008 for two photo books: “Lilly”, which focused on residents of public housing in London, and “CANARY”, shot in Sendai and Australia. Her solo exhibitions that she held in her thirties at public museums, too, have been held in quick succession: “Spiral Coast” (Sendai Mediatheque) in 2012–13, “Canary” (Foam Photography Museum, Amsterdam) in 2013, “Blind Date” (Marugame Genichiro Inokuma Museum of Contemporary Art) in 2017, and “Human Spring” (Tokyo Photographic Art Museum) in 2019.

The current “Jam Session” exhibition is the sixth instalment in a series that seeks new possibilities for art through collaborations between the Ishibashi Foundation Collection and contemporary artists. Welcoming Chikako Yamashiro and Lieko Shiga, who are deeply rooted in Okinawa and Tohoku respectively, and have both engaged with history and memory, the project aims to create an arena for reconsidering the power of art against a backdrop of complex and difficult realities.

For this exhibition, Shiga produced a booklet containing a long documentary text entitled “nanumo kanumo”. This piece was inspired by a particular art truck that Shiga happened upon in her home city of Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture. The front windshield of that massive vehicle was emblazoned with the words “nanumo kanumo”, meaning  “all sorts of things” in the local dialect. Shocked by the truck’s appearance, Shiga pursued its owner, which led her deeper into investigations of Tohoku’s truck drivers and the less visible conditions surrounding post-disaster recovery. The documentary unfolds as a thrilling seek-and-find, resembling a detective novel, where the truck becomes a metaphor guiding Shiga toward the world of the unseen.

In “nanumo kanumo” Shiga writes,“Within me, and within society, there remain inescapable ways of dependency. “Ways” signify both a road and a method. The “nanumo kanumo” truck provokes the landscape with its presence, challenging us to peer into the rifts it tears open. The intensity of “nanumo kanumo” lies in the way its body splits the scenery. That unforgettable image left a lasting impression on me”.

This act of making the things that are right in front of us yet remain ignored visible seems to be the essence of Shiga’s ongoing pursuit. Her much-talked-about “Blind Date” exhibition at Marugame Genichiro Inokuma Museum of Contemporary Art, which revolved around visibility and invisibility, also reflected this thematic concern. Through Shiga’s photographs, viewers are almost forced to peer into the fissures of the world that usually go unnoticed.

This time, Shiga presents her work printed on gigantic tarpaulin sheets, transforming the exhibition space into an experience akin to entering an alternate world. Tarpaulin, a synthetic resin-coated fabric mainly used for outdoor banners, has previously appeared in her show at the 2024 Yokohama Triennale, which also featured large-scale displays. Shiga notes, “Tarpaulin suits my personality better than standard photo prints”.

For this show, multiple tarpaulin walls, nearly the size of movie screens, will display Shiga’s new works in a narrative progression. Most are night shots, where people appear as actors in staged scenes. The finished images evoke a cinematic atmosphere, bordering on horror.

Shiga reflects, “I don’t think there is a single image in this series that wasn’t staged. Everyone who came to the shoot played a part, as if acting together. For example, in a new piece, I used a huge thick rope, which we sank in the sea and then hauled up ourselves. I told the people pulling, “Imagine this rope is an umbilical cord, so pull with all your strength as if welcoming new life”. Everyone ended up playing the role of a midwife.  In a sense, it’s about inviting invisible images into the scene”.

After moving to Miyagi in 2008, Shiga lost both her home and studio to the tsunami of the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake. Since then, she has made the disaster and the recovery central theme to her work, reevaluating the region’s climate and history. Her choreographic, almost cinematic shooting style is a way of confronting reality unique to her.

Shiga continues, “Having people perform allows me to confront the world more directly. When people really throw themselves into acting, transformation occurs, and new images come into being. It’s less about directing horror and more about probing what resides within our bodies”.

Junya Utsumi, curator at the Artizon Museum, speaks about the significance of presenting Shiga’s socially engaged expression: “Since the disaster, Shiga has been uncovering those things deliberately hidden in society, building multi-layered stories from her photographs, words, and spatial compositions. This expands the very nature of photography, which traditionally documents what once was. In a society tending toward uniformity, as symbolized by algorithms, her persistent attention to underlying disruptions is rare. By presenting them, she directly delivers the museum’s message of “experiencing creativity” to visitors”.

Making Tohoku’s, Japan’s, and the world’s invisible realities visible with powerful spectacle is Shiga’s unwavering approach. “I interact with a scene, wondering what unforeseeable image I’ll encounter rather than simply arranging actors or directing. I prompt the world and hope it responds in a way that shows up in my photos”, Shiga confides.

Utsumi adds, “Shiga keeps expanding the boundaries of her photographic art by incorporating words, sound, and installation. With each project, the scale and methods deepen, offering viewers new experiences and opportunities for reflection. I strongly hope she continues in this direction, and personally, I’d like to see more of her lectures and performance works”.

In response to such expectations, Shiga’s work is becoming ever more cinematic and narrative in scale and sensibility. This upcoming exhibition, with its sense of place and scale, feels almost like a new visual folktale of Tohoku envisioned by her. Although she has also created video pieces, she remains deeply committed to photography.

“For example, don’t you ever recall things in a way that is particularly photographic? When I remember something, it’s often a series of images lasting three or four seconds, rather than a vivid, minute-long moving picture. What I love about photography is that you can take in the whole image in one breath. After looking at a photograph I took, the cinematic element emerges in my mind. It’s this process I cherish. This time, I’m pursuing the question: What can be achieved through photographic expression? What does it mean to actively look at a photograph?”.