Haikyo

The slow, decades-long intrusion of Mother Nature, along with the far more destructive behaviour of human beings, have taken a huge toll on this old and incredibly dated love hotel.

Abandoned for many years, it would have been something special without the wanton vandalism, but unless located in the middle of nowhere, that’s always a big ask. Then again, the damage, along with what remains relatively intact, do give the hotel a truly dystopian look and feel, particularly so given its one-time purpose.

Old homes that nature is rapidly taking back are some of my favourite abandoned buildings to photograph and explore. Along with the beauty of such decay, they are also full of hints about the past and the people who once lived in them.

The large, concrete structure below, on the other hand, is in many ways very different. Condition-wise there’s little wrong with it apart from a bit of damp here and there. Quite a lot of the rooms have been cleared out too, and yet rather weirdly, others remain pretty much untouched. Plus in regards the decor, it’s absolutely nothing like your average Japanese house.

An explanation for the latter is that at least one of the owners was a dentist, meaning their taste may have been debatable, but their wealth most definitely wasn’t. The clinic itself was on the ground floor, but unfortunately the dental chairs have been removed, with anchors in the floor now the only giveaway.

However, despite such differences, the stories, or at least the suggestions of them, are still everywhere — not to mention questions regarding the likes of why the owners left, and why so much remains untouched. None of which I have answers for. The only real detail was a newspaper dated 2008, but that arguably confuses matters rather than clearing anything up.

In some ways such a lack of information is frustrating, but in other ways it’s not. It allows us the chance to imagine and make up our own stories. The possibilities of which are endless. Unlike whatever happened here.

It’s not all that uncommon in Japan to find, and be able to photograph, the likes of abandoned homes and holiday resorts. Long out of business movie theatres, on the other hand, are without a doubt much rarer.

Opened in 1950, the cinema below was one of two that stood side by side, but the other structure burnt down, meaning it was left to entertain the locals all alone. With a capacity of about 400 people and a decades-long operational run, it must have more than managed that, but nothing lasts forever, and it eventually closed down in the early 1980s.

Since then it has stood silently in a slow, gradual state of decline. It hasn’t, however, been left untouched, as the interior is piled high with boxes. So many boxes. Even stranger is they are almost all empty. Some are obviously from many years ago, with others much more recent additions. Why they are all there is anybody’s guess, but without all that clutter, the auditorium would have looked truly incredible with row after row of empty wooden seats.

That said, it’s still a fascinating place, and while old telephones are always a treat to discover, massive and pristine looking vintage projectors are something else altogether. The room they were in was almost pitch black, but the smell of oil suggested we had found what we were looking for, and in the dim torch light, the appearance of those two machines was as amazing as the movies they once played.

When it comes to exploring abandoned buildings, long lost mountain villages are probably my favourite as they provide poignant hints about the people who used to live there and the lives they once led. Elements that to some degree are also present in the house below.

Abandoned in the summer of 1997, it has stood the test of time surprisingly well — even the floors felt relatively safe which is something of a rarity in old wooden structures left open to the elements.

The calendars, as ever, made the year its occupants disappeared easy to identify, and the photos left behind suggest the property housed several generations of the same family, although considering the obvious age gaps, it’s difficult to say how many of them actually lived there at the same time. What is certain, however, is that it was once very much a home, and then all of a sudden it simply wasn’t.