Seasoned in the art of nomadism, Fumiko Imano spent her early childhood in Rio de Janeiro before her family moved back to a small town in Japan. She went on to study art and fashion photography at Central Saint Martin’s and since then has been living between London, Paris and Hitachi.

With two self published titles and a series of exhibitions to her name, she has been gathering a devoted following for her cute and seemingly candid photographic self-portraits, which tie in with all sorts of issues about identity and self image.

Her lo-fi photocollaged ‘twin self portraits’, in particular, continue an ongoing practice amongst female artists who have given representations of split or mirrored selves over the last century.

From Claude Cahun of 1920s Paris, 1960s Yayoi Kusama, Cindy Sherman of the 1990s, Julie Rrap of contemporary Australia or countless other examples, self portraiture has been a particularly important point from which to explore issues of female identity and body politics – and fragmentary or multiple self images have been recurring in this tradition.

I caught up with Fumiko to ask her about the desire to self-duplicate, the nature of photography, the relationships between fashion and art, and how she came to be her own favourite subject …

You have moved around a lot throughout your life, how has that effected your outlook?

I used to live in the memory of past when I was a kid. I just couldn’t forget Rio de Janeiro ‘cause I didn’t like Japan. I think I have huge tendency for missing past life, and that might explain why I was drawn to photography.

Do you identify with being Japanese?

I feel very Japanese if I go to abroad. Probably everybody has that national aspect even when you don’t notice it. Especially with food, I love Japanese green tea, rice and salty food. My body needs them.

Do female artists in Japan have particular difficulties?

Yes. But I guess it’s more hard to be a male artist in Japan ‘cause Japanese men have a huge complex about being male. It is hard to survive self sufficiently … it would be lovely to have a partner or patron for support like Ms. Coco Chanel had.

Your recently put out your second book I Hate Photography [available through Art Tower Mito and NADIFF], was it important for it to be another self-published venture?

I just haven’t met any good publishers interested in my work. So, what do you do? You have to publish yourself, innit? It’s a DIY spirit. With the more recent one I didn’t have any budget so I used b&w photo copy machine to complete the mission. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t about quality but more about realization. Maybe a statement to people saying “I’m here!”

Do you hate photography?

I used to love photography so much; I was always taking my reflex camera with me, developing in the dark room, dreaming about romanticism in photography too much. I was totally addicted. While studying fashion photography, I had to question ideas about photography and subject, and since that time, I started to hate it. I especially hate to be called “photographer” ‘cause it is so limited, and somehow people imagine all this professional and technical stuff, expensive camera, lighting system, studio, you know? I don’t believe in “photographer” with only technique and expensive camera and fame. I prefer being an artist without heavy guns, so I can do anything!

Are there other artists who have influenced you?

I used to like Juergen Teller, Terry Richardson, and Homma Takashi. I like very flat and simple photography. The most influential photos are my family album photos taken by my parents during their stay in Brazil in the 80’s with a Konica camera, and printed by Kodak: very strong yellow, green red.

What do you think the relationship between fashion and art is?

Both seem unnecessary, but somehow we need them. Sometimes there is no boundary in between, if I’m nude in photo posing, is it art? If I’m wearing clothes posing, is it fashion?

How did you come to be your own favorite subject?

Once upon a time in Amsterdam, I went to a gallery with my student portfolio. The gallery assistant said, “The strongest thing in your portfolio is your self-portrait. You should keep taking photos of your self!” It was a surprise ’cause I only had one self-portrait, but I started taking pictures as a 24 hour model, stylist and photographer. It was suitable for me as I wasn’t good at asking people to collaborate, and I wanted to posses my work completely.

Would the world be a better place with two Fumikos?

Yeah, it looks cheerful two together. It’s such a shame it could only happen in photo or video, not in real life.

[Images copyright Fumiko Imano. 1.Star wars chic twins, Hitachi, 2005. 2.We are here! Hitachi, 2003. 3.In broccoli flowers, Hitachi, 2008. 4.Green bear twins, Tokyo, 2006. 5.Pret a porter?, London, 2001. 6.Charles Anastase & twins, 2004, Paris]

“Bones are located in the depths. Plastic covers the surface. Whiteness is a common feature that facilitates movement between inside and outside.”

Bones, plastic and whiteness are some of Teppei Kaneuji’s favourite things. Liquid, towers and stains are a few others. The young artist’s work with white resin on everyday plastic commodities relates not only to the whiteness of bones being brought to the outside, but to his fascination with snow. When he started out by covering found objects in white starch powder, he was inspired by how snow can make our familiar surroundings foreign, unifying all things under its blanket and stripping common objects of their meaning and purpose.

Though less well known, his work with paper and collage is equally compelling. An accidental coffee stain on a page was the catalyst for his Muddy Stream from Mug collage series: as a triumph over the mishap he cut out more stains on paper and composed them in meticulous and systematic ways, thereby making them no longer accidents. These then became sculptural paper works, going from 3D liquid to 2D stains on paper, and then back to three dimensions in a new solid form.

In a similar vein, his collages and sculptures comprising cut-outs of moisturiser and other liquid substances from magazine advertisements also confuse two dimensionality and three dimensionality – just as his assemblages with white resin (applied as liquid which then sets) appear like either frozen icicles or melting drops; once again somewhere in between liquid and solid.

His exhibition Melting City / Empty Forest at Yokohama Museum of Art earlier this year made him the youngest artist the Museum has featured in a solo show to date, and since then he has been in high demand. Now for the first time a taste of his work has arrived in Australia, with a series of drawings and a video instillation (above) at Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery in Sydney. Go check it out, I have an inkling we’ll be seeing a lot more from Teppei in the years to come.

Masaya Nakahara’s Monthly Hair Stylistics albums (including Big Audio Dynamite Shit, 30 Minute Panty People and Electric Success In The Ghetto) are made up of heavy, intense noise experiments with irresistible  dashings of hilarity and silliness. Nakahara – who is also a film critic and novelist – does all the accompanying album art works, and their chaotic, semi-explicit bricolaged imagery is in keeping with the style of his recorded sounds. Monthly Hair Stylistics are issued by Nakahara’s record label Boid.

Meiro Koizumi is best known for his video art, but here’s a peek into his collage work. By painting onto magazine pages he changes XXX into G-rated scenes, but the transformation is never quite complete. Whether his women are depicted with pretty dresses in candy-coloured settings or as grey twin towers, there’s always a hint of the image’s naughty past showing through beneath the surface. If censorship was always this artful, I’d be all for it.

Koizumi’s first solo museum exhibition is on at Mori Gallery, Tokyo until November 8.

Illustrator Ayame Ono’s works are populated by electric-eyed donkeys, regal llamas, scissor-holding lambs and owls turning into space parapets. It’s a weird, spliced up wonderland where the creatures meekly agree to, “stop making sense”. You can certainly see traces of her favourite artists; Keiji Ito’s radicalised pop art; Fluxus creative Chieko Shiomi’s fantastical moments in time; and the planar, Edo-era obsession with chickens as seen in Jyakuchu Ito’s screen paintings. But the end result is all Ono’s own.

Images © Ayame Ono, courtesy the artist.

Primarily operating in the DIY domain of collage, Ono says, “For me, scissors are easier to use than pens. I can see something that exceeds my expectation without falling into mannerism.” It’s a rich, botanical domain with more, “sensitive, individualistic,” overtones than any concern with “social thoughts and issues.” However there is the sense – if not overtly – that these animals are not merely decorative, but emblems of fading worlds. Her most-loved animal? The flightless South Island Takahe, a rare species on the feather’s edge of extinction, but, exceeding all expectation, still surviving. And in this case, taking flight.