His model-making skills are a far cry from anime, and his subjects a bit too quaint to be hip. But although Itozaki's work may not have the street cred that the Arts Centre is trying to promote, it is still likely to capture the imaginations of a broader audience.

Standing only 1.52-metre tall, the Japanese photographer with the cardboard-straight posture could well be a cut-out from his own incredible creations. Armed with a pair of scissors, a sharp blade cutter, a precision-edge metal ruler and a sturdy glue-stick, he's a masterful architect of an expanding miniature cardboard empire of 25cm models that depict many facets of Japanese street life.

He combines digital photography and traditional craftsmanship with great effect. 'I started photography more than 10 years ago,' Itozaki says softly, through a translator. 'But I found that my shots did not have life. I decided to cut out parts and glue the shot back together into a 3-D piece. Only then was I satisfied with what my camera was seeing.'

The result is Fotomo - a phonetic abbreviation of photography and model - which now comprises more than 100 Japanese street scenes. The pieces selected for his first exhibition in Hong Kong include: Takeshita Street in Harajuku, buzzing with shoppers; pedestrians strolling past the Ekoda Station mall; the stillness of a compact three-storey store with perfect right-angled facades; and even a toy vending machine that manages to appear animated. 'I have no themes when I take photographs for Fotomo,' Itozaki says. 'I just walk around, wandering the streets of old neighbourhoods until I see something that captures the essence of life, depicts reality and has an old world feel.'

He looks out the window of the Hong Kong Arts Centre, and points to the spaceship-like Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre. 'That, for instance, does not appeal to me, as the design is so set, deliberate and obvious,' he says. 'It has no human connection to me.'

Itozaki was born in Nagano. A fan of illustration and painting, he studied at the Tokyo University of Art and Design, but didn't pick up a camera until after he graduated. 'I really wanted to be an artist,' he says. 'But I found that images did not come to my mind naturally. It was only after I started taking photographs that the images came to me.' He says he benefited from not studying photography, because he was not bound by set rules, practices and references. Fotomo was born out of Itozaki's drive for artistic perfection. He explained how a shot of, say, a bus 'did not bring satisfaction to me'. So, he toyed with ways to depict it, such as drawing or painting. A few snips, folds and a bit of glue later, a 3-D bus photograph suddenly came to life.

Today, Itozaki is a full-time Fotomo artist, and his model scenes are published in magazines, books and 'Fotomo Paper Kit' packs, so that other cardboard escapists can share his passion.

'I don't know what type of people enjoy Fotomo,' he says. 'I am sure kids like constructing them out of the magazines, but it is very difficult to create your own Fotomo scene. It is technically very challenging.' And the art requires great patience. One scene can take him about a month to create. 'The time is actually centred around finding the right street-scene shot, and then re-shooting the parts for the 3-D breakdown,' he says.

An interest in insects means they too have been captured in 3-D form. As giant recreations, they are a thriving part of the miniature Itozaki world of Fotomo.

Itozaki also likes toying with other photographic-related interests, such as collage shots, 3-D stickers and microphotography. He takes a small digital Ricoh camera from his little backpack and shows how he has taped a tiny mirror on its edge, reflecting the viewfinder. 'I am experimenting with top-shot photography right now,' he says, while flipping the baby-blue mirror back and forth.

So there may be hope for a 'cool' Japanese artist tag after all.