Tokyo Times

Of late I’ve been posting photos of old and dilapidated markets from other regions of Japan. Locations that in some respects are quite shocking in their semi-dereliction, and yet at the same time, the combination of a shrinking population and urbanisation makes such sights wholly understandable. In fact, it’s probably fair to say that away from the country’s main cities and tourist spots, such scenery is increasingly becoming the norm.

Far more unexpected, on the other hand, is to see similar scenes in Tokyo, and while certainly a lot rarer, they aren’t all that uncommon either. The mostly shuttered shopping centre below being one such example.

Recently I mentioned that a key aspect of my photography is returning to places I like to try and build up a series of photos. In that way I can try and tell some kind of story, or at the very least produce a more representative set of images. Something I’ve tried to do in this area, with the most recent visit being last week, and the first back in 2020.

Needless to say there have been some changes over the years. The shutters were painted a while ago to try and brighten things up a bit, and perhaps not surprisingly, one or two more businesses have closed down. Also, the government housing buildings that are a part of the shopping complex, and completely surround it, are, just like the stores, becoming increasingly unoccupied. A sort of vicious circle that will presumably see the whole area demolished at some point. For now though, it remains the kind of urban landscape almost never associated with the capital.

There’s nothing spectacular or particularly unusual in any of these recently taken Tokyo photos. Quite the opposite really, as they are mostly everyday scenes that can be witnessed in some form or other all over the capital. They are though especially prevalent in the city’s older neighbourhoods, which is why I favour these locations for a lot of my photowalk tours, and my own meanders.

The decidedly ordinary nature of the images, however, doesn’t make them any less worthwhile, or indeed enjoyable. At least not for me, anyway. The commonplace and mundane all too easily end up missed or ignored, and yet when appreciated for what they are, these small moments and brief interactions often feel genuinely memorable.

A key aspect of my photography is returning again and again to areas I find interesting, and with Tokyo redeveloping so rapidly, there’s invariably some demolition to document if nothing else. Yet notable changes or otherwise, the people, situations and various interactions make each and every visit unique.

Regularly photographing locations also allows me to piece together stories of sorts, and this almost shed-like Tokyo home is one such example.

It’s a place I’ve featured before, including half a dozen of the photos below. However, when passing by recently, I managed to capture several frames of the owner at the back of his property making use of some collected rainwater. A presumably daily practice that further highlights the truly basic nature of his life there. There’s also the first shot, which I took a few months ago, showing the old man looking out from his front door. He was possibly seeing how the weather was, or maybe even checking on his fish tanks. Whatever the reason though, it was a scene that felt particularly poignant.

Finally, as a bit of background information to add a few facts to the photos, the man has lived there almost his entire life, having moved to the property as a youngster. He’s now in his early 80s, which makes the lack of facilities and the difficulty of living in such an environment seem all the more shocking. Thoughts, along with so many still unanswered questions, that hit me each and every time I revisit.

Like so many old Japanese towns and resort locations, the best days of this place are long gone. Many of the businesses are now closed, and a good number of those still operating seemingly do so more out of habit than any real sense of commerce.

That said, such areas are almost always fascinating to explore, and despite only being small, this one was no exception. There were hints of the past round every corner, and in a region hit particularly hard by the nation’s ageing population, the sight of a long-broken condom dispenser seemed especially poignant. Well, at least as poignant as such a machine can be.