Photographs from a small group of islands
An urban cowboy expertly navigating the shadowy valleys of Tokyo’s skyscrapers perhaps? Or rather more prosaically, simply an entertainment district host with a love of hats on his way home from work?
Either way though, his intriguing and very distinctive look that day was as welcome as the similarly wonderful light.
Tokyo’s old and traditional little bars are genuinely wonderful places to visit and spend some quality time in. There’s the joy, the banter and perhaps more than anything, the invariably advanced age of the owner. All positives of course, but the latter in particular offers the addition of extra wisdom and life stories, plus a refreshingly carefree attitude when it comes to hygiene and even heating.
The downside, on the other hand, is that every visit could well be the very last visit. Admittedly this is arguably true of any establishment, but when the sole person in charge is in their 70s, 80s and sometimes even 90s, there’s sadly only so long they can physically sustain the workload. And so one day the shutters come down, the demolition crew arrive, or as in the case below, the bar is simply stripped bare.
The image itself is black and white, but the young woman’s expression is much more of a grey area.
Last month, I posted a series of photos documenting the demise and pre-demolition abandonment of an old Tokyo danchi, or social housing complex. A sight that signalled the ageing nature of the buildings, as well as the generation that first moved into them.
Photos that fortunately were taken at just the right time, as the fences are now up, meaning the end of a certain era really is nigh.
A quizzical stare, supermarket bread rolls, and the oddly reassuring ordinariness of suburban Tokyo on a quiet Sunday morning.
Back in February, I wrote this to accompany a series of photographs depicting some long-defunct vending machines:
“Japan is well known for its vending machines. With good reason too, as despite the ever-increasing number of convenience stores, the vending machine is still ubiquitous. Yet seeing one that’s no longer operational, let alone left to rot, is surprisingly rare.”
The ubiquity of such machines, of course, is most definitely still true, but the rarity of busted and forlorn looking examples, it turns out, is very much open to debate, as on walks in the last month, I’ve had the genuine pleasure of seeing the sad beauties below.
