Photographs from a small group of islands
Somewhat inexplicably, this young fella decided to take off his belt before drunkenly falling asleep. Yet despite what was clearly a very long Friday night and Saturday morning, he did maintain the necessary social awareness to keep his immaculately white mask perfectly positioned.
Japan’s many old school bars run by similarly aged owners are always a pleasure to spend time in. The trouble is, what makes them so special also means there’s the very obvious element of the clock ticking ever louder down to those final last orders. Of course some do carry on for a truly incredible number of years, but ultimately time can never be defeated. All of which rather sadly brings me to the little drinking spot below.
In business for over 50 years, and the owner well into her 80s, it’s amazing it kept going for as long as it did. Originally a ramen shop, the mama-san at some point made the sensible decision to switch to a simpler menu of yakitori and beer, then in the last few years, more or less just beer. Now, however, it’s simply closed.
After the enforced break due to Tokyo’s pandemic-related state of emergency, it’s entirely possible she thoroughly enjoyed the time off and decided to retire. That’s what I hope is the case anyway, as a bit of rest and relaxation is the very least she deserves. Yet whatever the reason, the memories of visits remain as full of warmth as the welcome always was.
Suitably weatherworn old shops on a windy Tokyo day.
The other week I walked past where the little shack in the last photo was and found a modern, much less shack-like structure going up in its place. The new shop isn’t going to be serving grilled chicken like the old one either, but it will at least be staying in the family, so it’s an evolution of sorts rather than an ending. A sight that led my mind to other, somewhat similar places, which in turn resulted in the series below. A celebration in a way of the simple pleasure of simple food that’s been very simply grilled and seasoned. An always available treat that’s absolutely impossible to tire of, especially when coupled with one’s alcoholic beverage of choice.
For what it’s worth, most of them are Tokyo establishments, except numbers seven and eight, which, if memory serves, were located in Nagano and Hokkaido respectively. Also, aside from the previously mentioned demolition, the only other place I know that almost certainly isn’t a going concern anymore is the stall in photo number four. The rest of them I’m happy to report are (more than likely) still in operation.
The now standard but incredibly distracting hand sanitiser bottles and vinyl screens make shooting bars a lot more difficult these days. On the other hand, the similarly important need for ventilation can have some visual benefits. Or at least it can for those stood on the outside looking in.
It was a little over a year ago when I first photographed this abandoned apartment and dormitory complex. A completely chance find, it was once home to cement company employees relocated to the area — the apartment building to presumably house families, and the dormitory rooms for unattached workers or those who opted to move out there alone.
Returning again after 12 months or so did not disappoint in the slightest, although despite being empty since the early 1980s, one or two things had moved since that first visit, and some parts were roped off, with several new-ish signs suggesting passersby don’t do what we did and enter the buildings. By far the biggest changes, however, were positive ones. The light was much softer this time, and being out in the mountains, a few trees were already in full autumnal mode — the beauty of which made for a striking contrast to the decidedly less conventional appeal of decay and long-term abandonment.
Going back also proved interesting beyond the simple pleasure of photographing a genuinely interesting set of structures. It offered the chance to see things I’d missed the first time, as well as try some different shots and angles. The more manageable light aided those experiments, and the aforementioned seasonal hues made for a few truly unique visual gifts. All of which is more than enough in regards explanation, so here is what 40 years of Mother Nature and abandonment do to former homes and living spaces.
