A very urban Tokyo autumn
Landscape photography isn’t something I usually do. Probably my most conventional approach was in the Japanese alps last year. The results of which I was happy with, and the overall experience a thoroughly enjoyable one. Generally though it’s the country’s more rundown and less conventionality beautiful views that appeal the most, and the same goes for Japan’s autumn colours, meaning there’s no real desire to head off in search of natural vistas bursting with seasonal changes. Scenery I can fully appreciate, but at the same time have no desire to photograph. It’s also something so many people do far better than I ever could. People I know too.
Much more interesting are the same hues in less natural settings. Like the wonderfully vivid foliage I was fortunate enough to capture through the windows of a long-abandoned apartment building a year ago. So in a similar sort of vein, below is a series of very urban autumn scenes along with some suitably matching colours from one of my favourite areas in east Tokyo. A place where the decaying buildings and slowly disappearing elderly residents are also similarly suitable in regards what the season traditionally symbolises.
A short story, in a little bar, down a narrow Tokyo street
I’ve posted the top photo before. It’s a tiny, generally not so well known spot that is fascinating due to its array of little bars, along with the sounds of music and voices one can hear from within.
Unbeknownst to me for the longest time, they are also gay bars. Admittedly I’d only seen men going in and out, but in most karaoke and snack areas, that’s generally the case anyway. A place where for many decades — and Japan still has a way to go — customers could be themselves rather than the versions society demanded.
It’s an element that makes the street even more interesting, and when passing through during one of my photowalk tours a few weeks ago, a bar owner was amused when he saw us taking photos of the signs, coloured doors, and what turned out to be his bicycle. Arriving early to set up for the evening, he invited us into his place for a look around, as well as treating us to a couple of songs. One a traditional enka number, and the other a far more familiar Hank Williams track.
Having lived overseas for a long time with his foreign partner, he had returned to Japan where they set up home in a more rural area. Cancer, however, cut his soulmate’s life short, so he took the bold move of selling up and opening his own bar. A place where he has the chance to sing, be himself, and in words of his that also sound like the lyrics from a Hank Williams song, “not feel so lonesome.”
The signage and little details of Japan’s dated coin laundries
Over the last few years or so there has been something of a boom in fancy coin laundries that also double as coffee shops, providing spaces people can actually relax in rather than simply return to. In Tokyo’s older neighbourhoods, however, it’s still the traditional versions that tend to dominate. Smaller and decidedly more dated places that aren’t anywhere near as comfortable. But while they may lack creature comforts, they make up for it with character, retro detergent dispensers, and somewhat inexplicably, cute dog pictures.
Tokyo big-time Louis Vuitton obsessives
Many moons ago I photographed the fella in the first photo — someone whose very obvious love of Louis Vuitton felt unlikely to be topped. And that’s the way it seemed destined to be, until last week that is, when I took the second shot of an unexpected contender for the LV crown. Or should that be hard hat? A man who didn’t just boast about his fashion allegiance, he practically brandished it.
The sad end of a unique little bar down a dingy old tunnel
Back in December 2019, a friend and I drank in the little bar below. We’d actually tried to get in several months earlier, but even though it was only late afternoon when we turned up, it was still completely full. Of course being so small meant space was limited to begin with, although when we did manage to squeeze in and claim the last two seats, it was amazing how many people were actually crammed in there. An element that made it one of the more intimating bars to enter, but we really needn’t have worried, as from the moment we sat down we were treated just like everyone else. A bit of a rarity to be honest, as foreign faces are few and far between in such places, so to be be accepted like a local was lovely.
Wedged as we were in the back corner, food and drinks were passed over, but gradually, as some customers left, and others entered, we were moved to the counter where the mama-san photos were taken. She was in charge of serving drinks and food, while the master worked the grill that looked out onto the tunnel. The latter a feature that made the place truly unique — all the colours the camera recorded, its wonderfully dingy nature, and the fact that the other businesses there had long since closed down. A combination that made the bar even more welcoming.
We’d planned to visit again a while back, but then found out it was temporarily closed. Something that’s never a good sign with such places, as temporary closures all too often turn into permanent ones. And sadly that’s exactly what happened. Over 40 years of serving, entertaining, and creating a cosy, wholly inclusive atmosphere, had come to an end.
In the hope of getting a last exterior shot before it was more than likely boarded up, I recently took a trip out there, and purely by chance the master arrived to clear away some stuff. It turns out the final decision to close had only been taken a few months ago. One that was made with a doubly heavy heart. He simply hadn’t been able to manage there alone, after his wife, the mama-san, had died.
