At the back of Kondaya Genbei, a 280-year-old obi wholesaler in Kyoto, slippered art-goers ascend a winding stairwell just wide enough for one. At the top of the narrow tower, a chamber shrouded in darkness is lit from overhead by a thin circle of natural light. The fixture resembles a solar eclipse hanging over the scene: Sculptures, presented like idols, made of collaged body parts, camera components and tiny picture frames. They represent not humanity’s devotion to any particular gods, but its unshakeable faith in photography. Cryptic and sardonic, this is Birdhead’s world.
