Photographs from a small group of islands
Before the heat and humidity really start to pick up next month, here is a series of late spring street portraits. Some taken on my Tokyo Photowalk Tours, with others shot on solo outings, but all of them, I hope, provide little vignettes of daily life in the Japanese capital.
There are so many photographs on these pages of old Tokyo businesses and their owners that no longer exist. Death, redevelopment and quite often both combining to change how many parts of the capital now look and feel.
That said, there is thankfully still a lot of history left to see and enjoy, so for something of a change from the more regular scenes of before and after, here are some survivors, all of which were shot very recently.
First is a traditional shoe shop that has been open for a century. It’s now in the hands of its 3rd generation owner, with the 4th already working there and preparing to take over.
Then there’s a similarly aged liquor store run by an 85-year-old who’s also the 3rd generation proprietor. For added interest, the building it’s housed in is even older. Quite something for a wooden structure, particularly so in a city that was heavily firebombed and is prone to both earthquakes and typhoons.
Lastly is a neighbourhood fishmonger that I first photographed in 2020, so I’ve included that shot as well — a memory that made seeing the place still operational even nicer.
The shop was founded by the current owner’s father in 1935. Sadly he died young, so his even younger son took over. That was in 1953, and now, 73 years later, that once fresh-faced youngster is still working there at the ripe old age of 89.
On some days, regardless of how many kilometres I wander, the end result is no interesting images whatsoever. Fortunately other outings can work out way better, and while it’s highly unlikely any of these will become long term faves, they are nonetheless photographs that nicely document a recent Tokyo meander. One that took in some old and familiar locations, along with a few previously unseen spots surprisingly near to them.
I don’t shoot a lot in the rain — my usual excuse being I need to manually focus, and trying to hold an umbrella between one’s shoulder and neck when taking a picture isn’t the most elegant of approaches. It’s not exactly the most ergonomic either.
To be honest though I’ve become something a fair weather photographer, and the issues mentioned above are more than manageable. Something these photos hopefully prove. All of them taken on a recent walk when at times the rain turned out to be much heavier than forecast. They are also results I like, so maybe, just maybe, I’ll be a little less inclined to stay indoors the next time outdoors is a bit inclement.
Oh, and as a side note, for more old vending machines, my latest newsletter contains a whole host of them.
These are photos from a walk I did that included a huge public housing complex just south of Tokyo. A network of once futuristic buildings that have always fascinated me, so in one of my future newsletters I’ll compile a full series of the photographs, along with some historical background and the societal changes such structures brought about.
For now though, these are just a small set that document a meandering walk that while not entirely intentional, resulted in photos showing the quiet, faded and increasingly empty scenes one often sees in Japan. Sights that, as these amply prove, are in no way limited to more rural areas.
