Photography

On a cold and windy day, the only resident I saw, apart from the couple running the restaurant I stopped at for lunch, was a man on a small motorbike. The handful of other people pottering about all arrived and left on the same ferry as me.

With a population of only 150 or so, the lack of visible life probably isn’t all that surprising. Even more so considering I was only there for a couple of hours or so. Still, exploring Ogijima’s sole settlement said a lot, as many of the houses were empty, with more than a few of them in a pretty bad state to say the least. Elements that made the island feel like a microcosm in many ways of the demographic challenges Japan is facing.

That said, while the number of inhabitants has dropped considerably — it was around 300 at the turn of the century — there are efforts to reverse that trend, or at the very least halt it, with 1 in 3 residents now migrants. A shift that may well just save the island, along with its continued involvement in the Setouchi Triennale art festival. But on a wintery day when the only noticeable activity was at the ferry port, it was hard not to think about the island’s past rather than its potential future.

The end of an era in several ways.

There’s no shortage of dilapidated old buildings in Japan, but turning the corner and seeing the tumbledown state of Paradise Street was really quite surprising. A little enclave of the past that is rapidly disintegrating, as well as increasingly strewn with rubbish.

Speaking to a few locals, it turns out the area was once a thriving red light district, with the nearby port an added bonus when it came to patrons. The buildings were also rumoured to house a secret floor for avoiding detection due to the nature of what went on there, but without being able to gain access, there was no way of verifying that. Either way though, those days are long gone, with gradual demolition now being added to the decay.

It does, however, remain a fascinating spot. The signboards in particular give it real appeal, and the increasing encroachment of modern apartment blocks provide a stark contrast. The latter, along with the street’s declining state, mean it’s hard to imagine the area lasting that much longer, but the unexpected presence of one last tenant and his many cats could well be what’s keeping the wrecking ball at bay, so for now at least, Paradise Street persists.

It couldn’t last. There was no doubt about that. Demolition really was inevitable. Still, seeing that empty little plot was no less disappointing. It was the last hold out. The final nail left sticking out. A closing shout-out to an architecturally more colourful time in every sense. Hues and textures then that will definitely be missed, but at the same time, very fondly remembered.