Gaijinphoto Magazine

A belated Happy New Year - 2013

I have been busy, hence inattentive to this blog. I feel bad about it, but all I can do is promise to do better. On a more productive note, I have been out and about, mostly in Tokyo, shooting a lot, and thinking about the medium. We started off the new year, 12 January to be exact, by making our annual pilgrimage to Ome for the Daruma Matsuri, where we burned the old Daruma (and hence our previous year's wishes) and bought a new one on which to make this year's wishes. It is always one of my favorite festivals since it is so close to our house and keeps us involved in local traditions. 

Selecting the right Daruma can be a chore, but there are so many to choose from, and photograph, that it is always worth braving the cold.

Ome is a pretty cool little town to photograph and there are many surprises awaiting the intrepid photographer.

And no festival would be complete without eats, so we chowed down on some roasted pig...

and it was gooooood!

In What Do We Seek Inspiration?

For beings who are so similar on the inside, we would seem, to the outside observer, to be very different on the out. Clustered together in the urban sprawl, even mashed together - almost to a pulp - while within the coarse veins that are the city's trains, we see each other, pass each other, confront each other's existence, without cause, comment, or concern for our fellow travellers. For this we should all be embarrased, regretive, ashamed even.

Where has the spirit of the 5-year-old boy within us gone? Why have we taken such pains to supress the urge to wave innocently at someone who's eyes we meet and say, softly, lightly "hello." On what have we become so transfixed as to lose our inspiration in the everyday mundane occurances of our lives to the extent that we don't ever smile...alone...in public.

I recently had an experience where a man, a kindred spirit, a living breathing person actually acknowleged me, smiled and waved at another gaijin taking another photo of passengers in the station. For some reason, I was so shocked by this weird behavior, that as he went down the stairs I reached over the railing and patted him on his shoulder like an old friend. The good news is he didn't turn around and punch me in the face - so my act of social bravery paid off, as did his. Of course there is always the chance that he is part of the gang of thugs who abducted the "gimp" in Pulp Fiction, but I didn't end up in a box, in a leather body suit with a gag ball in my mouth, which is nice.

On most occasions, we are content with the distant sneak peek; perhaps from within a train looking out. Perhaps looking at the strange man taking photos of such quickly discarded inanity that is beyond the imagination as to how someone could find the time to acknowlege it let alone find inspiration in it - as art - as a record of life in our time. 

On others, people just seem startled by the act of a man taking notice of them. Such is the life of the photographer, doomed to find fascination in just about everything. 

 

I don't blame Tokyoites for their withdrawn, somewhat taciturn public selves. Any people forced basically to live within each others crotches for much of the day will easily be repulsed by the superflously social. The mission of the moment while on the train, on the bus, in the station, in the line at the ticket office, in virtually any public space, is to refrain from pretending anything beyond you exists. Sanity requires this just as the five year old dies from it. 

 

An island refuge can be found in some of the city's bigger cafes. But for most, this is just another opportunity to avoind humanity. To sink deeper into reading about life - while eschewing it. 

For me, I'll be the dumb bunny. I'll cling to that five-year-old spirit with every fiber of my being. It is in that where I find my inspiration. Me and the kebab guy. Because we both have seen grimmer days - harder times - and we know how lucky we are to be we where we are. A place, where if we choose to, we can look up from the pavement, see another person, smile and think, "yeah, I see you too bro." And not get shot for it.

The Crush

There is no getting around it; the crush sucks. Only the occasional traveller into the city finds it a quaint aspect of life in Tokyo. Only the real moron, the type that succumbs to the worn cliches of Japan being the land where old and new coexist, and that this somehow arms the Japanese People to deal with the crush in quiet conteplation, finds this an interesting aspect of life in Japan.

But for those caught up in the confluence of the Yamanote and Chuo lines in Shinjuku Station, at the wrong time, reality is a constant reminder that commuting by train in Tokyo is an ordeal. 

And I am one of the lucky ones. I only make it into "downtown" two or three times a week. When I do it is normally for pleasure, not for business. So I must be to my fellow commuters the very definition of a baka gaijin, as I smile, listen to my iPod, and think about how it would really suck to have to experience this every day...in a ubiquitous black suit.

The tyrannys of time, distance, and habit conspire to exhile my fellow riders to the rigid discipline of having to make a certain train, a certain connection, be in a certain car that gets them to a certain exit, so that they are not doomed to spend more than one necessary moment in this travelling purgatory. I often have the luxury of looking at a train I was hoping to catch - which is absolutely bursting with people who make sardines lined up in a can look the picture of absolute comfort - and letting it pass, shooting a few snaps before the next train arrives. 

For most there is no next train. There is no fodder for the blogger. There is no aspect of this experience that is slightly enjoyable. 

There is only the crush.

Black and White in Omotesando

When I do make it into Tokyo, I get all black and white in Harajuku and Omotesando.

Sun hats look great on these ladies.

 

Despite the heat, he managed to hold his sign aloft.

She seemed genuinely shocked.

We could be in Italy!

Like Lewis and Clark, these modern-day city goers prepare to make the crossing.

Black and White in Tachikawa

When I can't make it into Tokyo, I get all Black and White in Tachikawa

 

 

 

A Day with Friends

Last November, I went out in Tokyo's Yanaka (Nippori) organized by flikr friend Eric with a group of some of the best photographers in Tokyo. And even though Eric was unable to make our latest adventure, many of the same folks on that walk, along with some new faces, decided to head out to Yokohama for a day of walking, eating, walking, shooting, walking, drinking, and walking. Did I mention these people can walk? That is especially remarkable since one of the members of the group, perhaps my favorite Tokyo photographer Takahiro Yamamoto, was able go the entire several miles, despite being hospitalized for two months with a severly broken leg after being hit by a car. The bad news for me is that he is a better photographer than me, both before and after the accident. Perhaps I should do domething as drastic to get the creative juices flowing. Check out his flikr site for some of the shots he managed to take while hospitalized. A great record of his determination.

A nice view of the harbor in Yokohama

While on our walk, we strolled along the waterfront. 

 

We took pictures of each other.

 

We took pictures of people we didn't know.

 

And we even took pictures at a temple.

But most importantly, was that a group of photographers, who are normally a solitary lot, were able to get together to spend some time doing what they love most, and sharing a great day together. 

The photographers in the group were: Takashi Kitajima, Kiyoshi Noguchi, Mirai, Noriko, Takahiro Yamamoto, Randy (the Leica man in in the hat in the BW portrait above), Takashi Hososhima, Yoshikatsu Sato (the man with the coolest home-made camera in the world), and Yumiko Sato (who shoots pure awesomeness with her Kern Switar lenses). Great people and great photographers. Check out their work!

Submitted for Your Approval

I don't spend too much time downtown since I live in the "country" out in Western Tokyo. But I do take advantage of the two or three times a week I make it in to the city to cram in some shots with the usual 15 minutes I have on my hand walking between train stations. During those times, I usually whip out my ubiquitous Ricoh GRD IV, a remarkable little street camera that never ceases to allow me to capture my vision.

I have written before how moods drive photographers in their selection of equipment, themes, whether to shoot for the easily consumable travel piece, or the artsy black and white fare. With me, these days, still yet to fully emerge from winter, black and white is where I find myself spending most of my time. That's not just because of my mood, but because of the mood of my subject, the city. And Tokyo is at its best as a black and white town.

Sure, it is post processing that turns the color shot into that artsy black and white moment, but for some of us, I think that is how our brain composes it when we press the shutter. I know for photographers like Kim Weston, the closest thing I have ever had to a photo mentor, his brain is hardwired to look at scenes in the subtle realm of the monochrome. For his grandfather and uncle this was true as well. As well as for many other famous monochrome photographers. 

For us less-gifted schlubs, maybe settling on black and white is a crutch. In the age of film, one really had to plan out how he/she was going to shoot their roll of one single type of film, limited to a certain number of shots, restricted by ISO settings and other demands. These made photographers much more judicious, careful, and conteplative of when they would invest in that precious shot.

Today, in the golden age of digital, the average photographer is freed from the restrictive confines of the film age. When he/she downloads his/her 600 raw files from their SD card, it is inevitable that they will come across that one shot, that while it looks mediocre in color, will be transformed into a magical black and white image in their software.

Perhaps that is too dismissive of the modern photographer, suggesting, to twist a phrase from the movie Ratatouille, that "anyone can shoot." Well, I do happen to believe that. But as with most things it is a "garbage in - garbage out" kind of deal. The more time you spend at it the better you get. It was my friend Kim Weston, in fact, who imparted to me the advice to "at least do one thing photography related every day" in order to get on the path to greatness. And that is what I have tried to do as I make the inexorable march towards photographic mediocritiy. 

How Lazy Have I Been?

OK, it has been some time since I posted some photos of life in Japan. This is supposed to be a journal of sorts so what does that say about me? Probably that I don't get paid for this. Kind of like if you get an unemployment check you have no incentive to go look for a job...in the real world at least.

Leaving modern hand-out politics asside, I will relate some recent wanderings of me and the family around Tokyo. 

First up is the annual Daruma celebrations. Daruma is the character who is the father of Zen Buddhism in Japan. His Zen meditation image is captured in the paper-mache dolls that are hand crafted with his likeness devoid of eyes. At the beginning of the year, usually around New Year, people purchase these dolls at local festivals, mostly around shrines and temples. They make their big annual wish and paint in one eye. Upon realization of their wish, they paint in the other eye.

 

At the end of the year, folks bring their Daruma dolls, with two filled in eyes, to their local shrine - ours is in Ome-shi, and toss them into the flames. 

This not only makes for an interesting spectacle, that I have seen in a few places around Japan, but is also a great chance to get you and your loved ones seriously burned.

 

Also around these annual Daruma festivals you can find interesting traditional foods and drink like the amazake, or sweet sake, which is a warm, sweet, rice drink that has rice chunks in it a smells of the essense of Nihon shu. It is always a hit with the crowd on what always seems to be the coldest night of the year.

 

As interesting, but perhaps not as traditional, is the annual migration of Japanese School Girls to festivals such as these, eating strawberries, and dressed as if it is 80 degrees F out. The bare-leg thing is the norm, even on the coldest of days. I cannot believe how these polar bears do it. Still, I am glad that they do and add another interesting aspect to life in Japan.

Time to Share Some Photos

I have been out and about and shooting a lot, but like many others, the season's obligations occupied me so I have been less than diligent posting. A lot has been going on in Japan, with the arriving and passing of the spectacular autumn colors and the arriving and passing of the New Year's Celebrations. As usual there is a lot to shoot, and I tried to take every opportunity to get out there. 

 

For the first time I was able to stop by a local shrine in Tachikawa, that I have passed by for years, but never photographed. I was lucky enough to get there on the day after New Year during great weather to catch locals coming by and paying respects to their ancestors, many of whom are enshrined out back. During these visits people ring the shrine bell and lay flowers at and clean the area where their family remains are commemorated. I try to be reverent shooting in shrines and temples, part of that is shooting with small, quiet cameras.

 

While I was walking the grounds, I came across this little fellow who I think is a statue of a shrine priest who is in the next world now, but evidently while in this one, he liked to play with cameras. I think we would have gotten along well. It also reminded me, that although I am careful while taking photos in Japan, photography is engrained in the culture, as far back as the late 19th century. The Japanese have long sought to document daily life in pictures, I think more so than any other culture. This can be seen in the Ukiyoe woodblock prints that captured so much of popular and historical life in Japan. When the camera came along it was quickly accepted as providing a way of capturing the same moments without the need of experienced artisans and a team of printers, ink makers etc. to put it all together. The stereotype of the Japanese person carrying around a camera taking photos of everything is more truth than stereotype and it is why many of the best photographers and cameras in the world come from Japan.

 

So in that spirit I attempted to ramble around Tokyo (much like this article) to see and document the little moments that make me love this country. It is an oft-worn cliche, that I always challenge, to say that this is a country where tradition and modernity co-exist side-by-side in harmony. Any time I see that written, and it is in every travel piece ever written about Japan, I instantly think, "this person does not 'get' Japan." Japan is more a place, like most others on the planet, where modernity has done its best to sand blast history and tradition out of existence. They only endure by accident, or because some caring (and usually crazy), committed soul spends his/ her life trying to save it. They usually make movies about those moments, but the average Japanese has no more regard for their own history than a strip-mall developer has for a civil war battlefield in the States. We have that in common.

 

Tokyo in particular is a place where the places and moments worth preserving are mainly the domain of the photographer. Those who have never been to Japan would be far from the mark to imagine Japan as a place where all views contain Mount Fuji, a Shinto Shrine, a Maiko in a Kimono puring a cup full of the finest sake made, all from within a Japanese garden. But what makes the place enchanting, and a home for many an expat, is that there is a slight chance that one will come across all of that, at least once while here - and when one does, they seem to forget all of the hustle and bustle, crowds and ass-pain it took to experience it. 

 

It is the notion that while I content myself with shooting the tops of taxis when the lights go down, I can, when I really want, get on a train, go 30 minutes from my house, and walk around a shrine where there is not a single human soul - and shoot to my heart's content. I suppose that is what keeps me here so long. 

My Tokyo

Expect the unexpected in this city. Be ready for it, prepare, do not let it sneek up on you or go unoticed. 

 

This city pulses like none I've ever seen. The more I know of it the more I am mystified. 

 

Everyone rushes, everyone crushes, everyone is caught up in the maelstrom, knocked about together, always swimming alone, against the tide.

 

In my Tokyo, I see everything and try to shoot it. Every shot has been shot before - there is nothing new, except for everything, and that makes me see what others miss, and me miss what others see.

 

My Tokyo has a lifetime of mysteries for me to see, but I have to see them to realize they are there.

 

And that is what makes me look where other don't.