Lone looks in an old Tokyo bar
Last week, with the help of a friend who has both the means and the experience, I produced some gallery quality archival prints from a handful of selected photos. The aim, when shipping from Japan finally returns to normal, being to try and sell a few.
Having someone there to not only help, but also guide me through the selection of paper and so on was invaluable, and in the end, the monochrome matte prints in particular stood out. Results that needless to say I couldn’t be happier with, prompting me to immediately start thinking about other photos that might work just as well. And as the bar scene below possibly fits the bill, as well as being an image I have a real soft spot for, I thought I’d post it.
Shot eight years ago in a place that was demolished a month later due to the building’s age and general disrepair, it now has the added element of nostalgia. Not only for the remembrance of a setting that’s long gone, but also in regards the much more recent period before the pandemic. A time so simple that the only precaution one needed for a night of beers and yakitori was to know when the last train home was.
Tokyo synchronisation
Sometimes, some scenes look tailor-made for the right person to walk past. What I didn’t realise until it happened, however, was that in this particular case, it was actually two people I was waiting for.
Solitary reflections above Tokyo’s urban sprawl
The Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building in Shinjuku remains an interesting place to visit every now and again. The views of the city below are obviously quite something, but generally I go there to try and take pictures of people looking at said views, or even people looking at me, looking at them.
At the moment, however, it’s rather different. The crowds are gone, and a once bustling observation deck is now almost eerily quiet, making it the perfect spot for solitary reflections.
The terribly sad sight of a quietly decaying old Tokyo house
Six years ago I took this photograph.
It’s an image I hold incredibly dear. The brief connection, the house and the abundance of life on display made pressing the shutter very special indeed. Yet while it was special then, it feels even more precious now.
That extra significance came about a couple of years ago, when I passed by again and was shocked to find the building empty and devoid of life.
Fast forward another two years, and it’s now an even sadder sight. Age, its wooden nature and no maintenance whatsoever mean the structure is in a terribly bad way to say the least.
So bad in fact that growing gaps in the walls and windows allowed me to take a few shots inside. An interior that due to Mother Nature making inroads, has developed a kind of decaying beauty. Something about that sink really does appeal. But mostly — just like this bar from a few months ago — the overriding feeling is one of silence, as well as complete and utter emptiness. A place that despite its incredibly ramshackle nature, was once very much a home, whereas now it is little more than a forlorn looking shell.