2005-2008
I have an old friend from Osaka who worked as a male prostitute. He was also a brilliant botanist, but after leaving the Jehovah’s Witnesses, he turned prostitution into his day job in order to pay his tuition. He was well versed in the world of BDSM, one of the most hidden parts of Osaka’s gay community, and I liked to follow him around as if I were on a sociological field trip.
One day, he took me to a bar. I was told that it was one of the most prestigious bars for BDSM enthusiasts in the Kansai area. The owner, Mr. Miro Daikokudo, appeared at first glance to be playing the role of a dandyish bar master. At the same time, however, he possessed tremendously keen sensitivity and aesthetic judgment. As if responding to that sensitivity, the people who gathered there were all difficult characters who were not easy to get along with. Behind my friend and me, as we sat at the counter with cheap cocktails in our hands, talking about Deguchi Onisaburo and experiences with magic mushrooms, an unknown man was being tied up and violently whipped.
One day, when Mr. Miro found out that I was a photographer, he approached a businessman-like man who was drinking quietly beside me. He told the man to take off his clothes; it was more like coercion than a request. The man looked slightly pleased as he began to undress, and I noticed that his entire body was covered in magnificent tattoos.
The precision of the tattoos was astounding. The figures from Romance of the Three Kingdoms depicted on his skin even bore smaller tattoos on their own bodies. The level of detail was extraordinary. Apparently, it had taken a top-notch tattoo artist in Asakusa twenty-four hours to complete the work. The man was also in a good mood and showed me his genitals, which were so heavily pierced that they no longer retained their original form.
Mr. Miro had the man put on a cheap, see-through pink negligee and a mask that covered only his eyes. He then handed me a Polaroid camera.
“Take a picture of this guy.”
I was being asked to photograph a genuine masochist. When I showed Mr. Miro the pictures I had taken, he seemed pleased with them.
A short time later, I was allowed to photograph a number of underground parties organized by Mr. Miro.
