Tomoya Fujimoto was born in Bordeaux in 1989. After studying in Tokyo, he returned to Bordeaux to join the Beaux-Arts art school. In 2014, he earned a master's degree in photography from ENS Louis Lumière in Paris.
As a young photographer, he studied with still life specialists and chose this field as his preferred means of creative expression.
Tomoya particularly appreciates matter and the interaction between what is seen and what can be revealed by light. With his lens, he can intimately capture the movement and shimmering of the vast canvas of the ocean and expose the entire world caught on the surface of a leaf. By building a subtle balance between the marvelous and the trivial, Tomoya offers layered art enhanced by a surprising intimacy with his subjects, a reflection of his attachment to the profound nature of things.
He self-published “Rien que la mer” (Nothing but the sea) in July 2020. His book will be republished in September 2021 by Editions Amers.
Worlds here displayed, imaginary architectures
Between elementary volumes and pure color
Occasionally deceptive, often playful
Free for you to wander
Rien que la mer
Nothing but the sea
"Free man, you will always cherish the sea"
Baudelaire – surprisingly – wrote these words as modernity began to swing towards unbridled industrialization, pandemic pollution, and exponential over-exploitation of the oceans, which are very likely at the origin of life and key contributors to climate regulation.
I wanted to offer a sober and radical view of the oceans, in their reflections of the sky, at sunset and at nightfall, in light and in darkness. Maximum contrast between the purity of the water and the implied oil slicks. Between happiness and apocalypse. Between desire and fear. But also, a fascination with the end of times, beauty induced by fear. It is as much about questioning the future of the oceans as it is about questioning ourselves.
Once again, Baudelaire – while obsessed with a quest for modernism – put it best: "The sea is your mirror; you contemplate your soul".
Le bruit du commencement
The sound of creation
What first strikes me is the thick and humid air; it floods me and invades my lungs, precedes me and surrounds me, as if I had suddenly become part of everything around me.
At first, it is almost impossible to sense, but in this confused mass where things seem to blend into each other, it is like the air is vibrating with a dull and heavy tone; the irregular and persistent noise of falling drops, trickling water, and mist that rises like a cave cloud.
Here, each leaf becomes a world, a primitive kingdom, both boundless and barely visible within this ancient universe, the temporary erasure of which is necessary to closely capture the delicate extent of its multiple manifestations.
Dans le bruit, les poissons …
"Fish lost in the noise"
In the dirty and crowded market's constant noise, men busy themselves among the fish. Some are still alive, but most are already dead or dying, asphyxiated, before being bled and frozen.
At a time when, for everyone here, they are nothing more but goods waiting to be shipped, I want to bear witness to their existence. I want to capture their beauty one last time – their scales, their lines, and their reflections – as death ultimately reveals their living reality.