Before opening up for lunchtime diners, the usual food preparation is required, along with several pinches of salt for purification*.
* Probably.
Tokyo scarecrows photographed at night
These two scarecrows were stood silently protecting a couple of rice fields in west Tokyo. One of them, even when suddenly appearing out of the darkness, seemed more serene than scary.
His colleague, on the other hand, was suitably sinister.
An abandoned Japanese hamlet in the mountains
The vast majority of abandoned buildings are interesting in their own unique way, but for me at least, old houses probably offer the most. The remnants of lives lived, and sometimes sadly lost, posses a poignancy and personal element that shuttered up theme parks and resort towns often lack.
In that past I’ve photographed a whole village lost in time due to death and job losses, plus a long-abandoned mountain settlement once home to a small population of forestry workers. And below is a similar set of images from a little hamlet that now sits silently in the mountains.
Nestled amongst the trees, narrow paths wind their way between the houses, and personal items scattered about each home offer hints about the lives of those who once lived there. Their probable age, interests and even how one of them looked. Everything rather unceremoniously left behind to slowly disintegrate and eventually disappear.
The structures themselves are already in a precarious state, denying us access to all second storey rooms, as well as a good few on the ground floor. It was just too risky. Yet considering the last sign of life there was thirty years ago, and some of the buildings have been standing uninhabited for over half a century, such decay is not the least bit surprising. Time alone of course takes its toll, but the storm we had at the end of the day also gave us a glimpse of how tough life can be up there, and that was nothing compared to the likes of typhoons and heavy snow — or indeed an earthquake.
So this is simply a record of how the hamlet is now, which of course is a far cry from how it once was. A past we will never know, but what remains is more than enough for speculation, and indeed the imagination.
A quiet Sunday morning in an old Tokyo neighbourhood
Tokyo’s older neighbourhoods are much quieter than the rest of the city, and they are also places where cats are most definitely much loved.
The setting sun in Tokyo’s midday sun
An old and faded Japanese tourist spot in the fog
Faded tourist spots long past their peak are common in the Japanese countryside, and invariably they are fascinating locations that slowly disintegrate rather than suddenly just ceasing to exist. The gradual, yet very visible decline creating a vicious circle of sorts, as the lack of investment and modernisation deters visitors, and the resultant reduction in custom further lessens the chance of financial support, leading ultimately to dereliction. Perhaps the perfect example of which is this old resort town I photographed at the end of last year.
The lakeside spot below is yet another, although in the fog it took on a completely different look and feel. Before the weather changed, the area was already quiet, with just a few couples wandering about, each one looking around, seemingly unsure of where on earth they had driven to. When the surroundings began to rapidly disappear from view, however, so did those last tourists, meaning they missed out on an experience that was almost otherworldly. The dense fog turned the rather sad silence into something far more serene, plus what remained visible took on a completely new, and at times almost ethereal quality. A transformation that resulted in a genuine sense of wonder — something that maybe, just maybe, was felt back in the day when business was booming.
