Tokyo Times

Film photography has enjoyed a considerable renaissance in the last few years or so, but whereas camera and film prices have soared, old school neighbourhood photography shops still continue to disappear.

This one is on a busy street near a university, so a lot of people walk by every day, but the owner said he doesn’t get much custom, plus none at all from the passing students. As such, he had very little in the way of stock, just some Kodak Gold and UltraMax. A gradual fading away for a shop he took over from his grandfather, and one that has been in business for six decades. How many more years he will add to that tally is hard to say, but what is for certain is that there’s no next generation family member waiting in the wings.

Rainy season arrived late in Tokyo this year, but early summer definitely made its presence felt with higher than average temperatures and humidity rapidly reaching uncomfortable levels. In connection with that then, these are some street scenes taken over the last couple of weeks. A mixture in regards both ages and areas, with the only real constant holding them together being the conditions.

In Tokyo, old school taxis and their distinctive colours are rapidly disappearing, and those still in use are invariably plastered with ads, disrupting the beauty of their simple and appealing design. Seeing a completely unadorned one then is an increasingly rare occurrence, so to spot a pristine yellow model in wonderfully colour coordinated surroundings was absolutely lovely. A moment made even more special due to the fact that after taking this one photo, the cab set off and my camera’s battery promptly died.

That very recent shot also provides me with the perfect excuse to once again show some older, but similarly colourful frames from the past. A small set that I can hopefully continue to add to.

With no time to figure out what was going on, and almost no choice in the matter anyway, we were hurriedly bundled into this fella’s neighbourhood workshop so he could show us the small metallic items he stamps out on the room’s machines. There was also a homemade and wholly unorthodox money-box fashioned from a suitably empty whiskey bottle.

During his fast and chaotic explanations, along with a worryingly inebriated demonstration of how some of the machinery actually works, he said that having reached 80, the best things in life were his hobbies — chief among them being fishing, smoking and daytime drinking, although it’s probably safe to say they aren’t necessarily enjoyed in that order.

Then, just as quickly as we were dragged inside, the tour of sorts was over, and we were deposited back out onto the street. A brief and unexpected encounter in an area I know well, proving once again that it’s impossible to predict what’s round the next corner.