Photography

Broken and long-unused old vending machines never fail to fascinate me. Their dated designs are undeniably a key part of that, but perhaps more than anything, it’s the way they still stand ready despite being unplugged and lacking any items for purchase. Almost like they are waiting, just in case they are called upon one last time.

Of course they never will be, and slowly but surely they are being removed, their almost sentry-like lives finally coming to a close. Below then are a couple of relatively recent finds, along with a selection of my favourites from over the years. Some revisited and re-shot, whereas others have been reworked. A small homage of sorts to these objects that somehow feel way more than mere metal boxes.

Looking at old photos is something I find infinitely fascinating. The combination of photography and history is utterly irresistible, and for me at least that’s especially true when it comes to images from Japan. However, despite having spent the last two decades here, when peering into the country’s past, it invariably has the feel of a completely different world — particularly so the further one goes back. That said, the one thing that always strikes me, and this is the case wherever the images are from, is the impossible to escape thought that all the people in the photos are now dead. Something I discussed recently with a friend, and it was reassuring to know it isn’t just me who sees things like this, although at the same time I have no idea how common such thoughts actually are.

The reason I mention this is that due to the older areas of Tokyo I like to photograph, along with the individuals I’m often drawn to, that element of looking back at people no longer alive has started to become a reality in my own work. A generation of buildings and their residents are rapidly disappearing, so what initially started out as simply photographing what interests me, has unintentionally evolved into a document of not only a disappearing way of life, but also a disappearance of actual lives. An unexpected outcome that is incredibly sobering, resulting in images that now mean far more to me than I ever imagined they would. Small documents that have become like those aforementioned historical photos, only these ones are not only form a world I know, but one that in many ways I’m a part of.

All of which I hope makes some kind of sense. A rather long-winded meander trying to make a point that the photographs manage more poignantly. So here they are. More than likely only a small selection of what I have, but from a mixture of conversations and messages, I’ve since found out that the people below are sadly no longer with us.

Japan’s ageing population is well documented, and there are no shortage of examples on these pages. A phenomenon that is especially noticeable in rural areas, as many younger residents are unsurprisingly moving to the cities as soon as they can.

That said, it’s increasingly common to see this population shift in Tokyo as well. Something these photos show, taken, as they were, over two days wandering a few areas of the capital with a visiting friend.

Scenes that are a world away from shopping and entertainment hubs such as Shibuya and Harajuku. Lesser seen locations where the shops are old and the owners often older. A few of these photographs in particular emphasis this point, as the lady sat outside her shop is 94 years old, and the man running the sweet shop (which he opened as a young adult) is now a staggering 96. Ages most of us can only hope of reaching, let alone still be fit enough to work.

Quite a few of these old-style Chinese restaurants have appeared on Tokyo Times over the years. Some are still going strong, whereas others have sadly succumb to the passage of time — the latter an increasingly common occurrence as these types of places flourished in the post war years, so many are now both old, and run by a similarly aged owners. Factors that are very evident when it comes to this lovely establishment.

The shop has been in business for over half a century, and the master is 82 years old. That said, he’s a young 82, and watching him at work is wonderful, as after all those years, and after cooking all those countless dishes, he very clearly still enjoys what he does. Something that on each and every visit is a genuine privilege to see and experience.

The on and off drizzle throughout the day wasn’t quite the weather I was hoping for. On the other hand, the wet roads and pavements, along with the pleasantly soft light, did make the varied colours of dated shops and urban flowers pop way more than they might have otherwise. A nice reminder, as I sometimes need one, that there’s not necessarily any bad weather when it comes to photography.