On August 6, 1965, exactly 20 years after the destruction of Hiroshima, Kikuji Kawada published his iconic photo book, Chizu (Map), a poignant statement about the profound impact of nuclear bombings on Japan. The book first became a standard photo book for its peers, and over the years has become a legend in the art of photography – the first edition is a hard-to-find treasure, as is the box of the 2017 reissue. [Chizu (The Map) reprint edition] it costs about 500 euros.

Kawanda was born in 1933, a member of a generation that was old enough during the war years to perceive reality but not actively involved. Boys born in Japan in the 1930s were not drafted into the army due to their age, so they also did not participate in the final battles of World War II. However, Kawada grew up in Ibaraki Prefecture, where the famous Imperial Japanese Navy Pilot Training Program (known as Yokaren) took place during the war. There are many stories of aerial combat by former residents of the area, and others recall traveling many miles to see close-ups of a downed plane and its captured pilot.

He was one of the lucky survivors of the bombings. He lived in a city that had not been completely destroyed, but like most boys his age, he believed in the propaganda of Japanese militarism: they were told it was a just war and Japan would win. When it was over, he survived. By the time he created his work, he could already understand that any political attitude to such terrible historical events is full of contradictions. Kawada, referring to “Chizu”, never talked about the trauma of the war, which may have prompted him to take up the subject.

But could there be an essential connection between the book and the experiences of its creator? The closest collaborators of the photographer claim that it was with this artistic work that he paid a personal debt to the events: although he himself was saved, if it were not for the tragedy of Hiroshima, the Map would never have existed.

The book “Chizu” (“Map”) became a model of a photobook, first for its fellow artists, and over the years – a legend in photography.

Kawada, now 89, is considered one of the most remarkable Japanese photographers of our time. He co-founded the famous and influential photography group Vivo, formed in Tokyo in 1959 with Akira Sato, Ika Narahara, and Somei Tomatsu, which critics say broke with the traditions of photojournalism and landscape photography by giving the genre a more experimental form. He first visited Hiroshima in 1958 and repeatedly returned to the ruined city in the following years to create a series of photographs that provide a complex and meaningful narrative of the effects of the atomic bomb on his country. The photographs in the Map explore not only the physical traces left by the disaster, but also the psychological effects recorded in people’s lives. By creating visual metaphors, the photographs raise questions not only about Japan’s identity and role during World War II, but also about the cultural upheavals that followed the American occupation of the country.

To create this particular book, the photographer collaborated with pioneering graphic artist and colleague Sugiura Kohei, and together they created an edition in which the layered sequence of images makes the viewer think about History: first “seeing” the atomic explosion and after its long legacy. Even from the cover, the purpose of the publication becomes clear. Under the title is the phrase: “We have reached a time when we live without courage, ambition, action, even without pleasant memories. Where is our map today, our vision, our glorious order?

The main text of the book was written by Nobel Prize winner Kenzaburo Oe, also a representative of the Japanese generation of the 30s. Inside, a bilingual poem is printed on a separate sheet explaining the title of the publication. The first stanza reads: “…Near my wounded eyes I saw a map./ Although it was only a small piece of land smeared with oil products/, it really seemed to me a map of the world/full of violence where I was supposed to live henceforth.”

In the end, the book is connected with both photography and literature; it is an independent work of art, the purpose of which is not just to capture reality, but to comment thoughtfully and artistically on it. Since the 1960s, photobooks have become the main medium for Japanese photographers to present their work. With the exception of a few galleries and some collectors, scrapbooks were the only way for these artists to show their images to the public and distribute them widely. Among Japanese photobooks, “Map” occupies a prominent position. It has been repeatedly praised by critics and is considered one of the four albums that constitute the most important monuments of photography in the history of twentieth century Japan. Particularly in its form, it is the perfect photobook, an object that combines the typical Japanese sophistication of the art of packaging with impressive photographs, text and typography. They claim that no photo album has been more successful in combining graphic design with sophisticated photographic storytelling.

This month, just days before the 77th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (MFA) announced the acquisition of 87 photographs of the book and their negatives, along with significant archival material from the edition with personal notes. photographer and a rare copy of the first edition of the book.

“We are delighted that Kikuji Kawada has chosen the Foreign Ministry to host this monumental work,” the museum said in a statement. The newly acquired works join four other works by the same artist already in the MFA collection, including two folding screens made in 2017 to incorporate several Maps images into the new presentation, showing the photographer’s constant practice of reimagining his previous work.