Photographs from a small group of islands
For reasons unknown, I never got round to reading Ryu Murakami‘s Coin Locker Babies, but its title always stuck in my mind. A reminder of sorts that seems to sit quietly in my subconscious until I see lots of lockers, then it pops into my thoughts before immediately retreating once again.
The scene below, on the other hand, was really quite different, as it almost felt like that memory had been waiting all those years for this one specific moment.
Vending machines are genuinely ubiquitous in Japan, so it’s very rare for me to make one of them the main focus of a photograph. That said, there are exceptions, and this previously posted set of old and defunct drink and tobacco dispensers was something I thoroughly enjoyed putting together.
Similarly enjoyable was both finding and getting some food from the decidedly old school toast vending machine below. One of only a few still in use, there was a choice of either a pizza or ham toasted sandwich.
When it popped out of the contraption, the pizza option I went for was plenty warm enough and tasted surprisingly good. Admittedly it was somewhat on the soggy side, but it was toast, from a vending machine, so that didn’t matter one little bit.
And if a toast vending machine wasn’t enough, there was a similarly retro feel to the pitstop’s car park, as it had an area set aside for youngsters to play and enjoy cigarette breaks between rides.
The other day I posted several rooftop photos looking over and down into one of Tokyo’s many entertainment and shopping districts. It was a truly dazzling vision comprised of modern and mostly massive concrete structures. And yet not that far away in one of the city’s older suburban areas, life at ground level feels a million miles away rather than a mere 30 minute journey.
In a truly massive city of many countless millions, Tokyo is ultimately still comprised of singular and often very solitary stories.
It has no doubt been a good while since this lady’s dry cleaning shop closed, and it’s similarly likely that the building has also been her home for many more years on top of that, so how much the view has changed from that small, upstairs window, must be nothing short of a daily source of wonder.
After years of rumours and premature reports galore, the demolition of Tokyo’s iconic Nakagin Capsule Tower is sadly now underway. Completed in 1972, the building was, and has remained, a striking example of Japanese metabolism. An architectural first, its 140 capsules — measuring 2.5 m by 4.0 m with a 1.3 metre diameter window — were all designed to be removed, allowing them to be individually replaced over time so they could evolve in accordance with societal changes and trends.
The problem was that never happened, meaning the capsules, and indeed the tower itself, slowly fell into disrepair. Leaks and serious decay were visible everywhere, and even the hot water has been shut off since 2010, forcing residents to use shared, on-site portable shower units. In reference to this, the two first and last shots below were taken a week ago when demolition was already underway, but the interior photos are from a decade ago, and the decline was very obvious back then.
Needless to say there have been campaigns to save it over the years, along with numerous calls for donations, but the Nakagin’s demise always seemed inevitable as the cost of repairs would have been nothing short of astronomical. Yet as impractical as living there must have been in many ways, it was a truly special structure, and there’s no doubt whatsoever that Tokyo will be a less interesting place without it.
