A cat wanders, settles, and relaxes in various spots within a modest Tokyo apartment. The cat is completely at ease in its surroundings, simply going about its daily life. Here and there, glimpses of the other occupant sharing the apartment with the cat are captured: Takashi Homma himself, the world-renowned photographer. His knee, feet, a strand of golden hair, half of his face. Traces of his life and work are also visible. Framed photographs wrapped in bubble wrap lean against a wall, and tangled effect pedals spread out like a colorful constellation on a blue carpet.
The title, "This Is Not My Cat," seems to carry multiple meanings. In Homma's well-known photobook, "Tokyo and My Daughter," there was the paradox that the girl in the photographs was not actually his biological daughter. In this work, his own cat is spoken of as if it were someone else's. Alternatively, perhaps it signifies the independence of cats, that they can never truly belong to humans. Cats quietly live, play, and exist with us. While walking beside our shadows, they always live within their own world.
