Nureki Chimuo Archive

I was extremely satisfied with both the shoot and the results.

I don’t know how to express the sense of satisfaction I feel right now.

My poor writing skills are infuriating.

I am so satisfied and happy that I can’t even find the words to describe it.

It’s amazing that all three of them understood exactly what I was saying and what I wanted, and each of them took it in and acted on it.

All three of them went above and beyond.

It was nothing short of magnificent.

Even before they understood what I was saying, all three of them shared the same sensibilities and drive as I did. They charged ahead single-mindedly, without hesitation, aiming for the same goals and results.

As usual, I wrote about the purpose of this shoot quite persistently and repeatedly in this “Talking Theater.”

All three of them really took the time to read it thoroughly. And they put it into practice.

No, putting it that way would be arrogant and disrespectful toward the three of them.

From the start, these three were exceptional talents who possessed the same aesthetic sense of bondage as I do.

They simply seized a perfect opportunity and blossomed all at once.

No, it wasn’t something as gentle as blossoming. To my eyes, it seemed as though they had violently burst forth and exploded.

Aesthetic sense of bondage beauty is not something that can be taught, even if one tries. It is not something that can be conveyed, even if one tries.

For example, even when it comes to the use of a rope alone, even if they faithfully imitated what I taught and tied the knots, true bondage beauty could never be born.

At best, the result would merely resemble the form. The most essential soul is absent.

Knowing this full well, yet having explained rope techniques as if they were legitimate, such is my dishonest, careless nature. My despicable way of getting by.

However, I shall not speak of that here.

Hiromi Saotome was, as expected, outstanding.

She fully grasped my vision, made it her own, and brought to life the inner world of a bound woman.

I would like to record here the brilliance of every single aspect of Saotome’s performance that day, but my writing skills are too poor to do it justice. It is a shame.

After the shoot, we went to an izakaya called Akazatsuya, had a few beers, and shared our thoughts on the day’s events.

“When I took Saotome into the restroom, it was probably a good thing I didn’t shoot any shots of her rolling up the hem of her clothes and straddling the toilet bowl,” I said to the three of them, smug as ever, twitching the tip of my nose.

“Yeah, that part was great, great, really great!” said photographer Yamanouchi and producer Nakahara Rutsu in unison.

The excitement from the shoot still lingered with all of us.

The single remark Saotome muttered at that moment was perfect.

“In that scene, not having my skirt pulled up actually makes me feel more miserable and embarrassed.”

If we stripped her naked, made her stick her butt out, and filmed the excretion scene directly, it would ruin the masochistic eroticism we’d worked so hard to build.

It’s a huge mistake to think that just stripping someone naked is the answer.

“That’s right. The masochistic beauty we’re talking about lies not in showing your butt, but in standing frozen in the corner of a cramped, dimly lit restroom, bound with your hands behind your back while fully clothed. We proved that today.”

Surrounded by three beautiful women and drinking beer, I feel myself growing more and more intoxicated.

I also wrote this in the 164th installment of “Talking Theater”: …after taking a few sips of tea, Hiromi turned to Tamaru and said she needed to use the restroom. Tamaru unties Hiromi from the pillar, grabs the end of the rope, and leads her to the restroom. I don’t want to film Hiromi urinating directly here. I absolutely do not want to. That would destroy the magnificent, poignant, and endearing imagination and fantasies of urination and defecation enthusiasts, and it would betray their poetic romanticism. I want to show Hiromi’s expression of shame and resentment toward the man through the crack in the closed door after she’s been shoved into the restroom. That’s all I want to do.

The actual shoot proceeded exactly as described.

In other words, it turned out exactly as I had envisioned.

It wasn’t simply a matter of filming my script faithfully. All three of them truly connected with the script and poured their hearts into the performance.

Saotome said that being tied up fully clothed and made to stand next to a toilet made her feel more miserable and ashamed than having her skirt lifted and being forced into a defecation pose, and the final work captured that sense of masochistic emotion exactly as intended.

Not only in this toilet scene, but throughout every scene, they remained immaculate, moving briskly to capture the emotions I envisioned and intended, each pouring her soul into her work.

man.

The one whose movements were the slowest and most sluggish was me, an elderly

From the very beginning, photographer Sachi Yamanouchi held her camera with confidence and continued to press the shutter with a steady, assured hand. She hardly spoke a word.

It was 100% natural light. No artificial lighting was used at all.

There was not the slightest hesitation or doubt in Yamanouchi’s approach to her subjects.

It seemed as though she was focusing all her attention on the aesthetic sensibility she believed in.

In an effort to purely capture the masochistic beauty of the subject writhing before her, Sachi froze all her senses and did not move a muscle.

That unwavering presence put me at ease. I was happy. I thought to myself, “My eyes were not deceiving me.”

I thought she was the best photographer for “Tomoshibi.”

Photographer Sachi gave not a single instruction to Saotome, who lay bound and breathing right before her eyes.

In silence, she confronted the expression of Hiromi Saotome, the model.

I wrote this in the 160th installment of “Talking Theater:”: …let’s proceed with the shoot as naturally as possible. The photographer says to the model, “Look that way, look this way, lift your chin, lower your chin, furrow your brows, make a sad face!” Let’s all be careful to avoid taking photos like that at all costs. Let’s firmly remind ourselves once again that photos where the only thing you can sense is the photographer’s voice giving instructions are the absolute worst kind of bondage photography.

Even if she hadn’t read the kind of instructions I’d been harping on about, the photographer should have already been well aware of them.

The “foolishness” of a photographer who issues a barrage of detailed commands regarding the movements of a bound model, thereby stifling the model’s unique personality.

If one fails to express the inner tremors of a woman, instead suppressing her living personality and treating her like a doll, then the mood and emotion of bondage photography are lost.

Bondage photography is by no means cruel photography.

At times, it is photography steeped in sentimental romanticism.

The quality of the work produced that day by photographer Sachi Yamanouchi, who, from start to finish, shot in natural light, in silence , and with a blend of confidence and tension, would become clear four days later.

Producer Nakahara Rutsu enlarged the photos taken by photographer Sachi onto photographic paper, and we held a gathering to view them first, just among our close circle of friends.

I had intended to record here the words of admiration we each expressed that night, but I will refrain from doing so to avoid sounding like I’m patting myself on the back.

In the photos, there is a scene where Tamaru (Nureki) places a gag in Hiromi (Saotome)’s mouth. Producer Nakahara had specifically filmed this moment on video, and it was truly spectacular.

It possessed a tremendous intensity and authenticity unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was a magnificent and harrowing scene that could truly be described as nothing less than breathtaking (though, as expected, I’ve ended up patting myself on the back).