Photographs from a small group of islands
The last photo has been shown on Tokyo Times before, but the first three were taken very recently, so it was nice to put them together as a small set. A brief snapshot of a place that feels as much a part of the past as it does the present, and fingers crossed it’ll also be a similarly interesting feature of the future.
Whenever I head out to Tokyo’s westernmost environs, it never fails to amaze me that the completely different surroundings are still part of the capital. The scenery there is worlds away from what most people think of the city, and indeed what the vast majority of it looks like. A feeling that was increased even further last week with the mist that greeted us as we moved towards the area’s mountains.
The idea was to try and find some old houses that we suspected were long-abandoned. A plan that worked out perfectly, although not all the former homes had been unoccupied for as long as we expected. Most had unsurprisingly been left unused for a couple of decades, but one had quite shockingly been lived in until 2016. Accommodation that would have been uncomfortable in the city’s more urban areas, but out there in the mountains it must have made for an incredibly tough life to say the least.
However, a few dates and the locations aside, there’s next to nothing we know about the people who once resided there, such as how they lived and why their homes ended left the way they were. The photographs taken on the day are really all I have, so here they are, along with shots of the journey up to and between the houses. Scenes that prompt a whole host of questions, but at the same time provide little in the way of answers.
With Tokyo slowly moving into winter, and the nights in particular now feeling rather chilly, it seemed like a good time to post this series of little bars and eateries. Some of them are older images, while several are very recent, but instead of the usual shots from a bar stool, these were all taken from the outside looking in. An element that for most of them at least provides an incredibly warm and welcoming appearance. Places to briefly escape the world outside with a few drinks, some food, and also the fleeting friendships such establishments can sometimes offer.
Over the last year or so there have been quite a few posts on Tokyo Times documenting old bars and homes that have been closed, demolished or just left empty and bare. Scenes that rather starkly represent the cycle of life, but for every place that has disappeared, there’s another that battles on, and the fabulously rickety little Chinese restaurant below is one such example.
It’s genuinely like no other eatery I’ve been in. Nothing is flat or straight, and everything is patched up and falling apart. The food is also great and the mama-san lovely, meaning there’s nothing more that one could ask for. It has also stood there for 65 years, as the master took over from his grandfather. Understandably there isn’t a third generation waiting to step in, but with no talk of retirement just yet, it remains somewhere to go, eat and simply enjoy.
Landscape photography isn’t something I usually do. Probably my most conventional approach was in the Japanese alps last year. The results of which I was happy with, and the overall experience a thoroughly enjoyable one. Generally though it’s the country’s more rundown and less conventionality beautiful views that appeal the most, and the same goes for Japan’s autumn colours, meaning there’s no real desire to head off in search of natural vistas bursting with seasonal changes. Scenery I can fully appreciate, but at the same time have no desire to photograph. It’s also something so many people do far better than I ever could. People I know too.
Much more interesting are the same hues in less natural settings. Like the wonderfully vivid foliage I was fortunate enough to capture through the windows of a long-abandoned apartment building a year ago. So in a similar sort of vein, below is a series of very urban autumn scenes along with some suitably matching colours from one of my favourite areas in east Tokyo. A place where the decaying buildings and slowly disappearing elderly residents are also similarly suitable in regards what the season traditionally symbolises.
