Photographs from a small group of islands
The now standard but incredibly distracting hand sanitiser bottles and vinyl screens make shooting bars a lot more difficult these days. On the other hand, the similarly important need for ventilation can have some visual benefits. Or at least it can for those stood on the outside looking in.
It was a little over a year ago when I first photographed this abandoned apartment and dormitory complex. A completely chance find, it was once home to cement company employees relocated to the area — the apartment building to presumably house families, and the dormitory rooms for unattached workers or those who opted to move out there alone.
Returning again after 12 months or so did not disappoint in the slightest, although despite being empty since the early 1980s, one or two things had moved since that first visit, and some parts were roped off, with several new-ish signs suggesting passersby don’t do what we did and enter the buildings. By far the biggest changes, however, were positive ones. The light was much softer this time, and being out in the mountains, a few trees were already in full autumnal mode — the beauty of which made for a striking contrast to the decidedly less conventional appeal of decay and long-term abandonment.
Going back also proved interesting beyond the simple pleasure of photographing a genuinely interesting set of structures. It offered the chance to see things I’d missed the first time, as well as try some different shots and angles. The more manageable light aided those experiments, and the aforementioned seasonal hues made for a few truly unique visual gifts. All of which is more than enough in regards explanation, so here is what 40 years of Mother Nature and abandonment do to former homes and living spaces.
Back in September of last year I posted a very similar series of photos, but they were all in black and white as it’s how I envisaged the results when shooting. Thinking about the area recently, however, I decided to go back to the images and see what I thought of them in colour. Unsurprisingly they’re very similar, and yet at the same time they do feel quite different, so deciding which set I prefer is proving extremely difficult. Not that it matters in the slightest I suppose. It’s all incredibly subjective, and moods change, meaning both seem legitimately better, or indeed worse, depending on the day. So whether better or worse, here they are again, along with some extras.
For a bit of background information, it’s one of Japan’s many faded little lakeside tourist spots, but in the fog it took on a completely different look and feel. Before the weather changed, the area was already quiet, with just a few couples wandering about — each one looking around, seemingly unsure of where on earth they had driven to, and why they had done so in the first place. When the surroundings began to rapidly disappear from view, however, so did those last visitors, meaning they missed out on an experience that was almost otherworldly. The dense fog turned the rather melancholy silence into something far more serene, plus what remained visible took on a completely new, and at times almost ethereal quality. A transformation that resulted in a genuine sense of wonder — something that maybe, just maybe, was felt back in the day when business was booming.
