Photographs from a small group of islands
Back in the summer I posted a series of photos from Tsuruhashi, Osaka’s Korea town — a truly fascinating place in regards both its looks and history. So on a recent return to Japan’s second city, another wander round the area’s unique, often labyrinth-like market was a must. A visit made all the more interesting this time with more knowledge about what works photographically, as well as the sight of a few, already quite familiar faces.
Old and broken vending machines have featured on these pages before. There’s just something so incredibly appealing about them with their retro looks and quiet dignity — standing, as they still do, despite destined to never dispense again.
As such, it was the beautifully coloured Sapporo beer machine that caught my eye, but then the shop itself seemed to have a similar kind of feel. Lovely to look at still, but long since closed, it too stands empty and quiet.
Japan may well have loads of fancy, well stocked department stores, but thankfully it also boasts a huge number of fabulously dated old businesses to balance things out a bit. So many in fact that the photos below were all taken very recently.
That said, the sad truth is that the vast majority will only last as long as those who own them, but for now for at least these shops are there to be seen and enjoyed, as we will likely never see their kind again.
The lights and iconic signboards of Osaka’s Dotonbori district are well documented, but personally, it’s the rather less well known after dark sides of the city that appeal. Quiet corners and little bars that arguably speak more about the lives and times of those who live there.
So here then is a set of scenes from some nocturnal wanders and drinks a couple of weeks ago. Photos that go nicely with my recently posted daytime series of people and similarly local places.
Abandoned places invariably possess a melancholic charm and beauty all their own. A mixture of unknown stories and past lives, along with the often hard to articulate appeal of slow, natural decay. Elements that this striking old shopping arcade had in abundance, particularly so with the added details of more personal scenes found in the living quarters above a few of the collapsing stores.
The location was originally a black market in the post-war period, then during better economic times in the 1960s, the arcade itself was built, incorporating shops and connected residences. The growth of supermarkets and large suburban outlets, however, changed consumer habits forever, resulting in the decline and eventual closure of every single shop in the arcade — the last one apparently pulling down the shutters for the final time around 40 years ago. That said, some people did continue to call it home. Calendars we saw dated back to the early and late 90s, but according to one report, an elderly lady lived there as recently as 6 years ago.
Now though the arcade simply stands as a dilapidated, but also quietly beautiful reminder of what was, and what will never be again.
The dilapidated barber shop on the corner was what initially caught our attention. Old school places like that are always a treat, but it’s rare to see one so faded and forlorn looking. However, having spent the morning shivering through the first genuinely wintery weather of the year, the coffee shop next door turned out to be the real find of our day.
In business for 51 years and run by the same woman the whole time, it was a warm refuge from the cold in both temperature and the welcome we received. A place that my friend and I felt completely at home in the minute we stepped through the door.
Now 83 years old, the mama-san moved to Osaka from her native Gumna prefecture when she got married. Her husband is sadly no longer with us, but she has children in the area, and of course the coffee shop. A business that’s an extension of her personality, and as such it felt very much a part of the past as well as the present. An element that was encapsulated the moment we heard the distinctive ring of the old rotary phone. A sound and resultant scene that was the icing on the cake of our time there. Or perhaps more appropriately, the thickly spread butter on top of our toast.
Oh, and it turns out the old barber shop that was so integral to our visit has been closed for a staggering 31 years.
