Photographs from a small group of islands
Over the last few years or so, much has been made of Japan’s investment in robot technology. Cutting-edge machines that are designed to help care for and comfort the growing elderly population. A vast array of others that’ll do the jobs of countless humans. Plus the odd one or two that despite massive outlays seem to do little more than dance — badly.
These busty behemoths, however, have been created to do nothing more than entertain. And that they most certainly do, in a suitably bawdy manner.
Japan happily adopts new trends and customs, more often than not blending them so effortlessly into the culture that in no time at all they are part of the culture. But, as rapidly as things change, in many ways they also stay very much the same. An impressive feat that is particularly noticeable when it comes to traditional festivals.
Almost always boisterous and packed affairs, it’s immediately clear that many of them haven’t altered much in the countless decades they have been held. Something that’s especially true when it comes to Asakusa’s Sanja Matsuri, which dates back as far as the sixteen hundreds in its current form. Plus many more centuries earlier in regards less organised celebrations.
An event that, along with the same customs, is clearly just as much fun as it has always has been.
Of a very similar intensity too.
The only real change being the faces on show — both of those involved, and those not.
Late at night, Shibuya Crossing is a heaving mass of half-cut humanity, with absolutely ludicrous numbers of people heading towards the station to squeeze on to even busier last trains home. But, if judged correctly, there should still be just enough time to quickly capture a captured memory.
There was rubbish all over the place, and the smell was positively rank, but thankfully just as striking was this very colourful piece of urban art.
A figure that has intriguingly appeared in other parts of the city too — namely on a now demolished old love hotel.