Taikichi Irie The Photographer Who Captured the Soul of Nara
Through the Lens of Taikichi Irie Preserving Nara’s Lost Essence
In this article, I’d like to focus on Taikichi Irie (1905–1992), a photographer who devoted his entire life to capturing the essence of Nara.
Previously, I wrote about the “Takabatake Salon,” which was formed in Takabatake (Nara Prefecture) under the leadership of the writer Naoya Shiga. After Shiga departed for Tokyo, a Todaiji priest named Kaiun Kamitsukasa inherited that spirit and started the “Kannon-in Salon.” One of the regular visitors to this new salon was Taikichi Irie.
Born in Nara, Irie initially aspired to become a painter. However, after receiving a Vest Pocket Kodak camera from his older brother, he became completely absorbed in photography. Though he quickly rose to prominence in the photography world, he is rarely mentioned in the broader context of photographic history.
A significant turning point in Irie’s career came on November 17, 1945, shortly after Japan’s defeat in World War II. Rumor had it that the statues of the Shitenno (Four Guardian Kings) from Todaiji Temple—being returned to Nara from their wartime evacuation site—might be confiscated by American forces. Hearing this, Irie decided to document the statues’ return with his camera, setting him on a path that would change his life.
From that moment on, Irie spent the rest of his days in Nara, photographing its temples, Buddhist sculptures, landscapes, and festivals until his death in 1992.
In Japanese photography history, it’s quite rare to find a photographer who, from birth until death, remained dedicated to capturing his own hometown. Especially at that time, many of Irie’s contemporaries—such as Ken Domon, Ihee Kimura, and the next generation of photographers in the “VIVO” collective (including Shomei Tomatsu)—were producing socially engaged works in rapid succession.
As Japan moved from postwar reconstruction into a period of rapid economic growth, social problems became increasingly visible, and many photographers naturally turned their lenses toward these issues.
Irie, however, took a different route. He refused to embed any overt social messages in his work and instead continued to photograph the ever-changing landscapes of his birthplace.
While Irie’s photos lack an explicit social agenda, his approach is far from negative; one could argue it is quintessentially Japanese. That may be why his work has garnered relatively little attention both in Japan and abroad.
Yet no other photographer has so beautifully captured Japan’s landscapes through a deeply Japanese sensibility. Someone who truly appreciated this elusive quality in Irie’s photographs was the famed film director Yasujiro Ozu.
Ozu was known for his meticulous insistence on authenticity in his films, using only top-quality props—be it pottery or food—on set. Although not widely known, Irie’s photographs make subtle appearances throughout Ozu’s works.
Personally, I see Taikichi Irie as the photographic equivalent of Ozu: if Ozu was the film director who most fully realized a distinctively Japanese aesthetic, Irie was its photographer.
When viewing Irie’s work, one focal point I suggest is the shift from “Yamato” to “Nara.”
Historically, the term “Yamato” referred to what we now call Nara. It’s only in more recent times that “Nara” has become the common name. In other words, the atmosphere of “Yamato,” steeped in rich history and culture, was gradually disappearing amidst the rapid changes of the postwar era—and Irie spent his life documenting that loss. By looking at contemporary Nara through Irie’s photographs, we can glimpse aspects of Japan that have faded away.
Taikichi Irie is, without a doubt, the photographer I love most.
A short walk from Takabatake in Nara will take you to the Taikichi Irie Museum of Photography. Very few tourists make the trip, but if you ever visit Nara and want a deeper engagement with its culture, I highly recommend stopping by the museum before exploring the rest of the city.
From “Yamato” to “Nara.” The subtle, indescribable emotion in that transition is the very heart of Japan.