Haikyo

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.

A couple of weeks ago I posted photos of an abandoned mansion belonging to an imprisoned billionaire. Admittedly it’s a place like no other, but it’s also an absolute world away from the rooms below, providing a stark reminder of how different people’s lives can be depending on birth, luck and outside forces.

When trying and failing to get into another abandoned hotel, we spotted this one up the hill. Its bleakness was striking, and things proved to be similarly desolate once inside. Unusually it was also a hotel that at some point or other had been converted into apartments. When that was I don’t know, but calendars in a couple of the rooms suggested it stopped being used in any way, shape or form in the very early 2000s.

Being late in the afternoon on a grey and snowy day, the light was fading from the get-go, and some of the rooms had no windows at all which limited shooting even further. One rather unsettling room within a room was packed full of kids clothing and toys — the only space on the upper floors that looked like its inhabitants had left in any kind of hurry. All the others were very much like the ones in the photos. Mostly empty, but with signs of life that were suggestive of how tough that existence may well have been.

In regards the photos, they are presented in the order I took them. From approaching the building to making our way up to the top floor. On ground level was the vending machine in what was once the lobby, and just off to the side was a kitchen and small living space which was possibly home to the person in charge. Maybe even the owner. The ninth image and onwards are all on the higher floors, culminating in a large living space at the very top which appeared to be several rooms repurposed into one. The chair left behind, however, suggests that unlike that aforementioned billionaire’s mansion, it was about as far removed from a penthouse as it’s possible to get.

Over the years I’ve photographed the likes of abandoned villages, resort towns and terribly poignant former homes. These and other outings have allowed me to build up a nice collection of old telephone and TV shots, as ultimately it’s time along with what gets left behind that makes each and every place special. That said, the mansion complex below is something else altogether.

When I first saw photos of it several years ago, it obviously piqued my interest, but its then completely intact nature and shiny-floored appearance made it look more like a bizarre museum of the kitsch than an abandoned building worth seeking out and photographing. Unfortunately there still hasn’t been enough time for nature to make any real inroads, but plenty of people have passed through, which has taken the sheen of those polished surfaces and given the whole place a sort of post-revolution, or even post-capitalism vibe.

The real story behind it (or at least its owner) isn’t quite so dramatic, but perhaps predictably it does involve money — lots and lots of money. Known as the Ginza Property King, Genshiro Kawamoto is a real estate tycoon supposedly fond of saying, “I don’t care about taxes. Only fools would pay them.” Words he clearly lived by, as in 2013 he was arrested on suspicion of evading over 800 million yen in payments — a charge that in 2018 eventually resulted in the then 86-year-old receiving a 4-year prison sentence along with a 240 million yen fine. Needless to say Kawamoto challenged the decision, but in January last year a final appeal was dismissed by the Supreme Court and both the sentence and fine were upheld.

What all that means for one of his former homes is hard to say, but considering what has already happened, it’s more than likely the sprawling structure will simply be allowed to fall apart and slowly cease to be of interest. A fate similar to the one that will very likely befall Mr. Kawamoto himself.