A realisation that gradually turned into a more considered way of working, and this small series of photographs is in many ways a culmination of that process. The complete documentation from old to new. Now and then.

Nowadays, however, that once state-of-the-art design is looking more than a little dated, although unlike many hotels of its generation, the Hatoya has somehow managed to survive. As have many of the original fittings and furniture. Even an on-site fire truck. All of which make a stay there akin to stepping back in time.

I’d first seen the hotel when passing through the area several years ago — its rusting and iconic sign creating quite an impression. So much so in fact that I made a promise to go back and stay there. A commitment I finally made good on a few weeks back.

It should be said that for some, the hotel’s worn and faded nature will likely disappoint, with any sense of luxury having long since gone. But for what is essentially a journey back to Showa era Japan, the Hatoya provides an experience like no other.

The rest of the photos are mostly made up of those previously seen locations, but on the day they were all taken, the light and people were different than on other days.

On a similar theme, my latest newsletter is out, featuring a deep dive into Japanese public housing (danchi). A look at the social history of such structures, along with a series of photographs from a location I’ve returned to more than a few times. It’s here, along with all the other editions if you are interested.

For me though, simple, everyday moments mean much more. Especially so when put together, creating documents of a day, area or even time period. This then is a series of such photos. All of them taken on a Tokyo walk in early June.

On a recent visit, however, I was fortunate enough to witness an unexpected event of a much more traditional nature. A festival. One both in and outside a shrine. So these then are some of the people I saw.

This set, however, is a bit different. In many ways it’s all of the above, but most of all it’s simply a number of images from the last month or so. Scenes that in many ways aren’t connected, but at the same time they are in regards the areas and themes they cover.

Having said all that, it’s also an escape of sorts, as there’s a very real element of mindfulness about being out walking with a camera. Problems and worries recede, leaving only awareness of the light, environment and moments worth trying to capture.

The photos here then were taken on such a walk. A long meander that took in several north Tokyo neighbourhoods, along with a visit to a previously featured sweet shop run by a man who is now only 2 years shy of becoming a centenarian. A little place he still opens daily, just like he’s done for the last 77 years.

It is though a part of the capital that keeps on giving, and wandering the area for just a few hours last week, I was reminded once again why I keep returning.

All of which brings me to the series shown here. A set of images from a small warren of interconnected Shinjuku alleyways that I’ve been photographing for a decade. And on a wander there last week, I took the opening photo. A shot I’ve long been hoping for, and the moment I pressed the shutter, it felt like the collection was complete. Or at least as complete as such a series can be. So for now at least, this is what I have. A little bit of Shinjuku from 2016 to 2026.

However, several weeks ago I took the first picture in this set, which piqued my interest and set me on a mission of sorts to get more, culminating in this little series. Something a bit different form my usual work, and to end the collection, there’s a similarly unusual photo of me. A portrait produced back in 2021.

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.

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.

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.

That said, the addition of a person in the frame is something I always hope for. Not just any old person either, but someone with at least some kind of visual association — no matter how tenuous that may be. It could be age, demeanour, or simply the colours they are wearing. An element that in one way or another complements the overall image.

These then are recently taken shots along those lines. Several of them feature places I’ve photographed before, whereas others are first time finds.

These then are images along those lines. Quiet frames that give at least some sense of the changes Tokyo is going through.

All that said, I also appreciate the look and imperfections of film, so I generally carry an old school camera in my bag as well. One that admittedly may not get used all that often, but one that is nonetheless always there. And so these then are some film photos taken in various abandoned places in and around Japan over the last 6 months or so. Moments when I remembered the camera was there, felt the shot was worthy, or simply had a day when I wanted to shoot more film.