Photographs from a small group of islands
In the past I’ve posted photos of quiet, fairly solitary scenes in Shinjuku’s Kabukicho red light district. Little vignettes that provide an interesting counterpoint to a location quite righty known for its bright lights and busy streets,
Here then are more similar moments. A few of which are continuations of sorts from those earlier photos. All of which were taken recently. A time that also marked the last gasp of a very long summer.
Old style Chinese restaurants were ubiquitous in Japan’s post-war period, and while there are thankfully still plenty left to seek out and enjoy, their numbers are dwindling due to the age of those running them. Serving simple, and what for many could be classed as soul food, they are wonderful, no-nonsense places that almost always offer the same dishes, but each with its own particular taste or style. Their interiors too are instantly recognisable, with red counters a common design choice.
Boxes that the little eatery above effortlessly ticked. A home from home where one could relax and enjoy some cheap and tasty food. A few beers too if you fancied it. But alas it is no more, as it has now also gone the way of so many little Tokyo bars and restaurants. An ending that while seemingly inevitable, is always terribly sad to see.
The majority of my Tokyo photos are of old places or people in a rapidly changing urban environment, but when looking for a particular image the other day, I noticed some shots that struck me as similar, but at the same time also different. A few I posted when they were first taken. Most of them, however, haven’t been shown before. At least not in the current versions anyway.
It could be the memories I have of each scene, or simply the natural passage of time, but either way, they do seem to have a different feel. Somehow much more dated, rather than merely older subjects in contemporary settings. The reason, perhaps, why I initially didn’t bother doing anything with several of them, and only now, after a number of years, have they become more appealing. Not nostalgia as such, but just something about them that seems to speak of a time before they were actually taken. The fashion perhaps? Less smartphone use? The slightly different colours my previous Leicas produced? A combination of all three more than likely, with some other stuff thrown in for good measure.
None of which, it has to be said, fully articulates my feelings, but hopefully that jumble of words made at least some sort of sense. I also hope that whatever it is about the photos isn’t just felt by me. So with that said, here they are.
A friend and I first visited the wonderful little bar below almost 4 years ago. Back then it was already clear that the area was changing, as a large number of buildings had already been pulled down to make way for numerous new apartment blocks.
Fast forward to the present day, and the redevelopment has progressed considerably, with the bar itself one of the last original structures still standing. The nearby train station, which makes the land so precious, now clearly visible behind it.
The lovely owners, however, are simply carrying on regardless, cheerfully serving food and drinks just like they have for the last 52 years. Something they are intent on doing until the demolition crew can be deterred no more. And from a customer perspective, once seated inside, everything felt exactly the same aside from the natural passage of time.
Apart from the massive, almost city-like main transportation hubs, train stations in and around Tokyo are usually fairly modern, decidedly utilitarian structures that allow commuters to get to and from their destinations with a minimum amount of fuss. As such, there’s rarely anything interesting or appealing about them. They simply do what they need to do and offer very little else.
There are, however, a couple of exceptions. There’s the fantastically dated section of subway that I covered earlier in the year, and the incredible example below: Kokudo Station just south of the capital.
During the daytime, the tunnel that allows access to the two small platforms is relatively bright, but once the sun goes down the sparse lighting gives it an atmosphere all its own. An element that further adds to the sense of age and history, with the station’s pre-war construction and subsequent opening in 1930 making it a genuine rarity.
Back in better days, the tunnel was filled with numerous businesses, bars and eateries, but unfortunately the remaining one closed last year. A terribly sad ending to a truly wonderful establishment that I documented 12 months ago. And now, with that place boarded up just like the rest of them, all that’s left are a few old signs, with the only option for drinks being the glowing, weirdly incongruous looking modern vending machines.
Here then are the photos. Images given added appeal by the colours the lighting creates inside the camera. All of them taken during a short period on a recent Saturday evening. A time when it would have once been full of people happily heading in and out of their favourite little bars, whereas now it’s just a few souls quietly passing through on their way home.
I’ve been photographing these long closed businesses over many years now. For the bulk of that period, most of the changes were minimal. The awnings sagged and became increasingly forlorn, but other than that everything else was reassuringly familiar, with the little row remaining absolutely lovely to look at.
Several months ago, however, a house at the rear was knocked down, which for the first time in goodness knows how many decades exposed the back of the buildings to daylight, showing just how dilapidated and patched up they really were. Details that to me at least only added to their unique, decidedly ramshackle charm.
With an elderly lady still living in the old, former eatery on the left, I didn’t worry too much about the shops themselves. Being otherwise empty but seemingly connected, I assumed they would at least survive as long as she did, but then over the summer her one time business and home, along with building next to it, went the way so much of old Tokyo is going.
An outcome that if nothing else proves that one should never assume anything, particularly so as it turns out the woman herself simply moved three doors down into the once vacant structure on the right.
