Nureki Chimuo Archive

My room is filled with materials related to what you might call “SM” and theater. Amidst the piles of documents stacked up to the ceiling, I’m writing my manuscript. There are various materials available, but when it comes to SM-related content, publications (specifically magazines) still dominate the space. For example, back when I was writing for Kitan Club (this is an old story), I used to have them send me two copies of each issue. During the heyday of SM magazines, each publisher released multiple issues per month, and generally two copies of each issue exist. I was heavily involved in producing the bondage photography for those magazines, which meant I worked closely with each editorial team. As a result, I often received the freshly printed issues directly from the editors during the photo shoots. “The new issue is out, take a look.” Like that. In addition, since I write novels and other reading material, the same issue is sent to my home address every month as a matter of routine. I end up with two or three copies of the same issue. Special issues, extra issues, and photo books will also be released.

Each time, the editor hands it over saying, “It’s done. It’s got a real punch to it, take a look.” And that’s how the publications pile up. I’ve been the editor-in-chief for publications like Uramado, Suspense Magazine, ABMENT, and even the Kinbiken Newsletter, so I still have materials from that time. For example, manuscripts and personal letters from writers and painters. Having done this work for so long, the volume has become enormous. When I moved to my current workroom, I did a lot of organizing, but there are still some precious things I absolutely want to keep close at hand. For example, original artwork by Minomura Kou. I also have detailed notes documenting my own work to date. For example, a memo recording the date (year, month, and day in the Showa era), the name of the publisher, the names of the model and photographer, and the location where the bondage photography was conducted. If I die, those documents will undoubtedly be disposed of. But even if I die, there are things I want to leave behind. (Come to think of it, several years ago I went to a certain place and humbly asked if they might take these materials off my hands; I had a large collection. Naturally, I said I wanted to donate them for free. But they flatly refused, saying they didn’t want such things. This person was someone who understood the importance of preserving this kind of material. I was surprised and frustrated, and I still can’t forget it.) Just now, I accidentally wrote “without any tact,” but what exactly is this “tact?” Since I was at it, I looked it up. According to the Obunsha Japanese Dictionary, “nibe48 ” (魚免) is actually the name of a fish. I had no idea. How ignorant of me. How embarrassing. A marine fish of the Scombridae family. Body length: 90 centimeters. Grayish-blue in color, with a pale gray belly. Possesses a large swim bladder, from which gelatin is made. Its flesh is used as a raw material for fish cakes. Known as a vocal fish. Additionally nibe is also written as “鰾膠,” referring to glue made from the swim bladder. It possesses strong adhesive properties and has extremely broad applications in food, medicine and industry. This internal discussion is from the Japanese idiom “ニベもない” “nibe mo nai.” It’s an expression that means unfriendly, curt, or to refuse without hesitation.

So, “nibe mo nai,” meaning lacking stickiness, translates to having no charm or human warmth. In other words, I was flatly refused without a shred of courtesy. At that time, I threw away various materials while crying. In short, the room was cramped. I didn’t have the money to rent a storage unit. However, some materials still remain. New ones have also accumulated. I am now gradually transporting these items to the Sex Industry Museum in Iidabashi. Director Nakahara Rutsu accepted it, saying, “That’s fine.” I’m becoming suspicious. I don’t know if it’s really okay. No matter how vast the space, there are limits. The curator might be unexpectedly troubled. “If you find anything you don’t need, please feel free to throw it away,” I always say this before leaving. I fear causing trouble. Even if I keep these things around, they’ll be discarded when I die. To ordinary people, they’re worthless. My time is short. Publications are heavy and bulky. But I’m doing my best, carrying it on my back, moving forward. Little by little, my room is starting to get tidier. Five or six cardboard boxes were stacked high, and when the precious document that had been missing suddenly popped out from the bottom of the very first box, “Whoa, you were hiding here!” I can’t help but cry out, burying my face in the box as I get lost in reading. Well then, actually, all of that up to this point was just the setup for this time. I ended up researching things like the fish used to make kamaboko49 just so I could write about what happens next. When I found the “Gekiga Select” published by Geibun-sha in Kanda Surugadai, Tokyo, in November 1973, at the bottom of a cardboard box, “Yessss, I found it!” I couldn’t help but exclaim. Fish cake. This of course is the nibe discussed earlier

A monthly magazine priced at 130 yen, comparable in size to a weekly publication, with 200 pages. Its cover features handwritten lettering proclaiming, “Yusuke Aoyagi Masterpiece Issue.” Beside this, it states: “Part One: An Invitation to the Sadist” “Part Two: 30 Boys’ Lullaby” The cover illustration is also by Yusuke Aoyagi, accompanied by a description. It is short, but stylish. “Teapot clutched By the pigtailed child A red dragonfly perches on her nipple” It is truly poetry. Upon opening the cover, two full-page color photographs of nudes appear immediately. Two pages, that is, the front and back of a single sheet of paper. There is nothing else. Looking at the nude model’s makeup, you can tell she’s clearly a model from forty years ago. A sharp, distinct black line is drawn right above her eyelids. She is not completely naked, yet her pubic hair is hidden, and her nipples are not visible. There is none of the blatant eroticism found in today’s sensual publications, yet there is a peculiar presence to her as a female body. Compared to today, the printing technology and paper quality seem crude. Perhaps that’s why it has a certain charm. I’ve tied up this gravure50 model. I think it was SM Select, a magazine from the Tokyo Sansai-sha group. I’ve forgotten the model’s name, but her face looks familiar. If you check my “work notes” stored at the sex museum, you might be able to find out the name of this girl. But back then, I was twenty, and now I’m eighty? Ugh. The passage of time is cruel. That’s why I don’t slit my wrists with a razor, burn charcoal in my car, or rush to die by concocting some foul gas in the bathroom. Death comes upon anyone in the blink of an eye. Look at me. Just the other day, I was called a “handsome boy.” Oh? What are you writing? In Japanese media, gravure refers to models who appear in photo spreads.

That’s right. I was about to write that I like the bound women depicted in Yusuke Aoyagi’s manga. Many so-called SM manga have been drawn over the years, some becoming series of collected volumes, and I own several of them myself. The content, much like SM speciality magazines, has recently featured prominent illustrations that enlarge and meticulously depict female genitalia, becoming increasingly formulaic. Typical means that writers have lost their soul and no longer inspire us. Among the vast number of SM manga being produced, to my knowledge, there is not a single one that follows in the footsteps of Aoyagi Yusuke (if there is, I would appreciate being told). First and foremost, his character depictions are outstanding. This magazine, “Gekiga Select,” features six short manga stories by Yusuke Aoyagi. They contain profound psychological depictions. Though bound women appear explicitly in only about three stories, an authentic SM atmosphere permeates the entire collection. This deeply twisted, decadent taste seeps into the reader’s heart. The body of the woman bound within the story carries a peculiar, cloying body odor and soul that strangely appeals to my SM inclinations. What is good about this drawing? What is good about it, and how is it good? Why is it good? I intend to explain it in writing now, but I’m already trembling at the poverty of my own expressive abilities. How can I convey the appeal of this drawing to the readers of “Talking Theater?” Despite having worked as a writer for fifty years, I’m aware that my vocabulary is poor and I’m not very good at explaining things accurately. But I intend to write as best as I can, even if I’m not very good at it. If I write with all my heart and soul, my feelings might just come through a little. Yusuke Aoyagi’s depictions of bound female bodies tend to feature somewhat rough lines. They lack the delicacy and meticulousness found in artists like Muku Youji. At times, they are bold.

But in each and every line, the scent of blood, the scent of flesh, can be felt. This “scent,” or perhaps, “stench” would be more appropriate. I feel as though the painter’s earnest feelings are poured into the depiction of the female form. The ropes binding the woman’s body seem imbued with the artist’s prayers and desires. (How many bondage paintings of women exist these days, devoid of prayer, desire, or passion, merely depicting bodies wrapped in ropes?) In Yusuke Aoyagi’s depictions of bound women, one senses the artist’s solitary soul and a pervasive sense of desolation seeping through. The figure of the woman depicted is undoubtedly that of forty years ago. It has a palpable sense of lived experience. (Because it feels so lived-in, the smell of blood and flesh must be what women sense.) The way the rope is tied around the female body is, to my eyes, precise. It is real. Accuracy and realism are precisely the essence of how a true enthusiast binds. These are not drawn from commercially available bondage photographs. (Incidentally, ninety percent of Muku Youji’s bondage drawings were based on photographs of me tying someone up, which she then copied exactly. I plan to write about this separately. Not that I’m blaming her or anything. It just means she only recognized my rope work.) Yusuke Aoyagi’s binding style isn’t overly strict; the slight slack in the ropes actually lends a strangely realistic feel that I quite like. Just by looking at his drawings, you can tell this artist truly loves ropes. There’s no mistaking his desire for bondage. Even in the smallest, simplest drawing, that desire seeps through. That’s why he’s an artist. A painter who creates works that don’t reveal their own desires can hardly be called an artist. Throughout the work, it is expressed that what Yusuke Aoyagi finds erotic is, after all, the woman’s sense of shame.

Some frames bear the words “the beauty of bondage” written in his own hand. “The beauty of bondage” was a term I began using back then. The beauty of bondage cannot be born from a woman who possesses no sense of shame. Therefore, this painter dislikes ostentatious poses featuring full nudity with legs spread wide. What I find particularly interesting is that when this artist depicts a woman bound with her legs spread wide, he deliberately renders her in a crude and coarse manner. The wide-legged spread is depicted as a filthy, unappealing bondage pose that cannot be an object of desire. This is proof of being a bondage enthusiast. I find this aspect particularly fascinating and intriguing. Beyond the figure of the bound woman, I feel that each and every line drawn by this artist is imbued with his single-minded devotion to SM. In the “Big Waves, Small Waves” column of the Tokyo Shinbun, a critic using the pen name “Monster-kun” has written the following piece. I will introduce only the main points. The title is “What Manga Has Lost.” “—--Chiba Tetsuya broke his nearly five-year silence by publishing a fifty-eight-page one-shot short story in the June 10th issue of Big Comic. (Omitted) Thanks to this short story, I read Big Comic over to cover for the first time in ages. What I discovered was the fact that manga artists far younger than Chiba are creating works in a decidedly oppressive environment. Constrained by source material and reader considerations, the dialogue feels excessive, and the peddling of external knowledge stands out. Scenes traced from photographs are precise and accurate, yet utterly dry and devoid of emotion. There’s no sense of the depth of experience that comes from the artist having lived within those landscapes. On the other hand, in Chiba’s manga, every panel depicting Tokyo’s downtown feels vividly alive through the gaze of the characters observing it, strongly conveying the sense of a place truly lived in by people. Japanese manga has developed significantly over the past half-century, but isn’t it time we began examining what we’ve lost?” That is all. Transcribed from the June 5, 2008 evening edition.

I am not familiar with the pen name “Monster-kun,” but as expected, the professional critic offers insightful commentary. This applies perfectly to those who currently operate “SM” as a for-profit business. That hits the nail on the head. Spanning two pages, Yusuke Aoyagi’s depiction of a desolate, lonely townscape devoid of people is surely the very image of the painter’s own solitary, breathing inner landscape. The “Gekiga Select” from forty years ago that I have in my possession now might already be in the Sex Industry Museum. To my surprise, the museum houses a collection of rare and valuable materials, books, magazines, photographs, all meticulously organized and managed with care. Oh yes, in the editor’s note for this “Gekiga Select,” there’s a line published as a “tongue-in-cheek” comment. I’ll transcribe that very line into this “Talking Theater” as well. “(Omitted)... Amidst the torrent of youth-oriented graphic novels flooding the market, I intend to continue doing my utmost, driven by a sense of mission to select what should be preserved and create what should be promoted. I kindly ask for your continued support.” That’s all. I think “for young people” might be a typo for “for adults,” but what do you think? Subsequently, a collection like “The Works of Yusuke Aoyagi” was published as a single volume, and it may already be available at the sex museum. But anyway, I plan to take this one volume to the museum next time.