Photographs from a small group of islands
In many ways things have changed, but for older generations of Japanese, the lives of men and women are/were very different — both in regards roles and responsibilities. A gap that sometimes isn’t all that obvious, but then at other times seems like an almost insurmountable gulf.
During way too many hours of the day, getting on and off Tokyo’s trains can be akin to (relatively) well-mannered mayhem, although at the same time, the obvious emotional stress of such journeys is somehow kept very much in check.
When it comes to traditional festivals, however, there are moments when it really is mayhem, and for once, emotions are thankfully very much to the fore.
The first time I saw a wedding at Tokyo’s Meiji Shrine, I marvelled at its timelessness, not to mention the elaborate outfits and graceful movements of the procession. A special moment I considered myself very lucky to witness.
But on each subsequent visit, I saw more and more weddings. Sometimes two or three in quick succession. Plus a fairly recent look at a (regular?) weekend schedule detailed what appeared to be a staggering sixteen ceremonies in a single day.
Yet despite knowing this. And having seen so many. The beauty of each and every one hasn’t dimmed in the slightest.
A kind of conversation that’s quite possibly as common as their kimonos are uncommon.
Japanese festivals are interesting for many different reasons, but in these rapidly changing times, their timelessness is possibly the most intriguing.
In fact so long as there are a few bits of cherry blossom still about, drinking on the street is not only socially acceptable, it’s sociable. Plus possibly even more staggering is the fact that it’s so incredibly civilised.
