When I view works of art, I crave the experience of not recognizing the images at first glance and then seeking to learn what they are. Whether the work is a silk screen, a painting, or a photograph, I want to engage with in this way. Even in my own photography, I strive for the ambiguity that evokes questions in the mind of the viewer—is this a human form, a piece of pottery, a plant, a landscape? To me, that is art.
Beautiful curves also continually come into play when I work at interior design. Constant pursuit of beauty is also work. But now, with this show, I simply wanted to take a gamble with my photography. I took the plunge by holding a solo show in France, where no one knows anything about me, because I wanted to get honest feedback. Moreover, a monochromatic female figure is a straightforward gamble—you win or you lose. I want to create a Morita persona that differs completely from the Morita known as an interior designer. I will carefully build the layers of my new collection over five or perhaps ten years. This will not be sudden, as in a moment of revelry. I intend to go forward steadily. I think that the photography itself can last for the rest of my life. In particular, the female figure, because I can capture such images even in my old age. I have discovered a wonderful kind of life work.
I searched for and pursued beautiful curves, and inevitably settled upon the female figure. Its minimalism satisfies all of the desires of my artistic eye. It is resilient but not too solid, and its softness is balanced by scarcity of detail. It might be too erotic. But there are moments when base desire transforms into overwhelming beauty. Actually, one person among the show’s viewers shared his reaction: he said that he “felt the Zen.” But more likely he actually felt the Japanese quality of the images.
I wonder whether his word “Zen” actually meant the moment of reversal of desire.
Everything is present within nothingness.