The upcoming work, which meticulously captures the process of making donuts, is unlike conventional cookbooks. It contains no instructions about measurements or techniques; instead, it simply presents an endless sequence of donut-making scenes. At first glance, the detailed depictions might seem like an attempt to thoroughly explain the method, but in reality, the extreme close-ups and repetitive scenes lack concreteness, making the work unsuitable as a cooking reference. The creator, Ai Mizobuchi, mirrors the structure of a typical cookbook but deliberately ensures it doesn’t function as one.
This intent can be inferred from her choice of equipment: a medium-format digital camera, known for its limited burst-shooting capabilities, and large strobes that create broad, soft light sources. These tools, unlikely to be selected without deliberate consideration, yield rich color depth, high-resolution detail, and uniform lighting that lends ordinary ingredients an air of sophistication. These effects push the work far beyond a mere recipe, imbuing the photographs with an arresting strength that commands attention.
Why is Ai Mizobuchi so focused on achieving this intensity? Her intention is hinted at in the title, which she twists from “donuts” to “yellows.” The term “yellow” undoubtedly encompasses the various shades of yellow present in the ingredients: the pale hue of eggshells, the vibrant yolks, and the faintly yellow tones of butter. Furthermore, the repeated imagery of ingredients mixing in a bowl highlights the process of stirring, emphasizing the transformations of yellow tones.
In other words, while borrowing the theme of donut-making, Mizobuchi approaches her photography with the aim of extracting the subtle differences contained within the overarching category of “yellow.” She isolates each nuance and relationship among them, evoking a sense of gradient that parallels the coexistence and interaction of diverse elements in a society awash with an overflow of values and diversity.
Text : Tetsuya Maeda
I was absentmindedly watching TV while eating a donut. On the screen, someone was worrying about the future of this country. But to me, it felt like a distant country’s story. What was more important to me was savoring the donut in my hand.
A theory on literature by a writer I read long ago always lingers in the back of my mind. It states that by continually writing about anything, the relationship and sense of distance between me and that thing will be automatically expressed. The key is to accumulate these observations as data, to observe without making judgments. Apparently, the words that are accumulated in this way begin to move naturally…
This theory on literature has been a significant support for me, who is ordinary and has no story to tell. And it was with this encouragement that I created this work. I aimed to photograph the familiar and ordinary object of a “donut” with as much ease as possible. This was an attempt to gently capture whatever appeared in the photos.
As I laid out the finished photos on my desk, an acquaintance who saw them uttered a single word, “Yellow.” That word stuck in my mind like a parasite. When I looked back at the photos, I indeed felt that the existence
of what was captured there was expanding its boundaries while blurring its outlines. The more I looked at it, the more this “yellow” transformed, and even though I tried to grasp it, it slipped away from my recognition.
Beyond that, there was something unidentifiable that stubbornly refused to be named.
Indeed, a moment captured in a photograph can give a person the certainty of “yellow.” However, if the surface of a photograph is merely a moment in an infinitely continuing timeline, it can be said that its substance is constantly changing, with room to accept new interpretations. We understand things by organizing and classifying them with words.
But could it not be said that this is an illusion to live safely? Perhaps the essence of the world is hidden in the places we choose not to see.