Photographs from a small group of islands
The dreaded ‘peace sign’ invariably appears if you ask to take someone’s photo in Japan, and the number of times I’ve been presented with it is way too many to remember. How many times it has actually worked as part of an image, on the other hand, is a much smaller number. It’s one. This one to be exact.
So as offensive as it can be, getting the decidedly non-peaceful V sign was a very unexpected treat. One further added to by being brandished under a similarly surprised looking giant octopus.
The tofu shop below always fascinated me. It was so old and ramshackle that each crack and layer of grime seemed to conjure up some sort of story. Photographing it, on the other hand, was easier said than done, as the little alleyway it was located in is way too narrow, so I just enjoyed stopping by and looking at it every time I was in the area.
In the summer of 2014, however, the owner unexpectedly appeared, allowing me to get a shot of him, and a bit of the building.
Then, just shy of 3 years later, I had the good fortune of seeing him again. It was a surprise to get another opportunity, and similarly surprising to see how much he had aged.
But sadly there won’t be any more such sightings, or indeed photos, as I dropped by at the weekend — my first walk in that area for several months — and not only was the owner absent, but so was the shop. The plot of land it once covered is now a car park. A nondescript, freshly tarmacked rectangle that strangely, but understandably, offers no hints at all about what stood there before.
Grubby little bars are without a doubt the best places to enjoy yakitori, but similarly grubby little take out shops are definitely the best alternative.
The shop below has presumably long since closed, but like so many little businesses in Tokyo, it’s a part of the house, so is still in use for storage, comings and goings, plus now and again a good bit of gossiping.
The latter was briefly interrupted when they spotted me, but thankfully there was time for a clearly visible yet covered smile before they got right back to it.
Ramshackle structures are incredibly common in Japan. Not just in rural areas either, as away from its main entertainment and shopping hubs, Tokyo has more than its fair share of them. There are countless homes, shops and restaurants that despite their utterly dilapidated states, are more often than not still in use. And yet despite seeing so many that I have an Instagram account almost entirely devoted to them, this particular house is like nothing else.
It’s still lived in for starters. The one remaining, relatively intact upstairs room provides a home of sorts, although how cold it is in winter doesn’t bear thinking about. Neither, to be honest, do the bathroom facilities, or indeed the probable lack of them. But somehow it must be manageable. A bit like camping perhaps, but in an ancient tent on a bit of waste ground.
Unsurprisingly there are all kinds of rumours about the owner. The one bona fide fact is that it’s a fella who is getting on a bit. But those limited details aside, the general consensus seems to be that he lost a lot of money when Japan’s economic bubble burst, or on the stock market, the two of which could obviously be connected.
It also appears he may have moved to, or possibly back to the area from Kyoto, with the relocation resulting in some kind of trouble with the house and a construction company. Elements that, along with so many other things, are alluded to in the mostly nonsensical statements on the walls. Writing that is regularly painted over, and then replaced with more of the same angry, colour coordinated incoherence.
What the neighbours think of it all is anybody’s guess, especially as there is also a speaker set up playing local radio at a volume that’s just about loud enough to warrant regular tutting and muttered complaints. But for now at least, the radio stays on, and the written rants continue unabated.
