fujifilm

My Ghosts

After experiencing the idiosyncrasies of the Black and White Fujifilm FB3000B during our period of Lockdown, I decided it was time to explore the colour expired version: Fujifilm 100C. It demands a sunny, bright day at only 100 ISO and contrasting colours to enjoy its full impact. So with the Land camera’s light meter; if you can even call it that, not really working, the day being pretty dull and the film pack dating back to 2006 nothing was really going in my favour. But as ever, Polaroids and Peel-Apart film are not just about the instant photo for me, there are an abundance of treasures to be found.

Using expired colour peel-apart film produces a unique layering of image making. On my black and white peel-apart negatives The Pull, removing each film from the camera, left random, permanent light streaks interacting across many of the images. The pull on the colour negatives however, behaves in a completely different way.

Depending on the physical speed, flow and strength of the pull the negative is marked with a white substance. A purely physical fleeting act translated into a static moment of time. There is little control over the results and the outcome is purely random. Once the back layer of the negative has been bleached away a partial image emerges, not dissimilar to a photogram or a glass plate negative, but the physical action of the pull has transposed itself in an ethereal and spiritual nature. Once the front of the negatives are cleaned the marks of the human interaction will be washed away. My Ghosts express in visual terms the idea of human presence that was only momentary leaving only traces of its existence.

My ghosts-3.jpg

Emergence From Lockdown

My final chapter in my triptych journal is a reflection on our emergence from Lockdown. It is a confusing and unsettling time. Our behaviour and day to day life will have to alter accordingly. A new order will arise out of the chaos.

During Lockdown, I’ve really enjoyed packing away the digital cameras and using the old Polaroid Land Camera. The slowness and thoughtfulness that is required before pressing the clunky shutter has been a true reflection of our lives during the pandemic. I wont be putting the Polaroid away just yet, my fridge contains quite a few packs of expired colour film and I have a few bottles of bleach in preparation to reclaim the negs, a completely different process to black and white. In the meantime, I’m going to get printing and bind my journal. The paints will also be staying out.


Time Management in Lockdown

During Lockdown it feels like time has unravelled. For many, our daily organised routines have been dismantled as we have been released from the metronomic ticking of the clock. Our lives have slowed down, the deadlines have gone and the divisions of the day have become fluid. I feel there is a new sense of time and, in parts, I’m enjoying this freedom and hope to take a piece of this into the new ‘normal’.

Lockdown 2020: A New Commodity

Three images were taken on the 250 Polaroid Land Camera, this time with a self timer. Post-it notes served as perfect markers on the wall which were hastily removed in the available 10 seconds. While the actual photos are not too bad, a definite improvement on the the first 3. Reclaiming the negatives proved pretty worthwhile. The light steaks are accentuated by the scanner and add a surreal and ethereal look to the composition. I call this triptych A New Commodity.

Only two shots left in the pack…




Lockdown 2020

During this period of isolation with time on our hands, I have decided to continue exploring the potentials of the Polaroid. Subsequently, I have found myself in a rather strange place, which is rather fitting considering our new ‘normal’ at present. I have resurrected a 1966 Polaroid 250 Land Camera and ventured into the realms of pack peel-apart film. My first batch is FP3000b - super speedy instant Black and White prints . This pack expired in 2012.
Apart from the nauseous smell and bouts of light headiness from the chemicals, it has been a slow and interesting experience. Each piece of film is precious, they aren’t made anymore so supply is limited and cost is high. So like our lives right now I have slowed right down, given thought to how this beast of a camera and its film operates, thought about the images I wish to make and celebrated each of the random, bizarre outcomes. Everything that emerges from this camera is a surprise to me. The out-of-date film has a life of its own, my limited knowledge creates uncertainty and together the weird and unpredictable is formed. Now that really appeals to me!

I don’t like anything going to waste, so all elements of the Polaroids are being explored. In the case of the peel-apart pack, it’s the negatives I’m particularly excited about. The actual prints allude to hidden secrets, so once the negatives have dried I dive straight in. Here are my first three attempts, they do get better after this!!!

First attempt with scratched title. Used straight from the fridge - error #1 - too cold and pulled apart far too soon.

Error #2 turned the exposure knob too far over to the darken side and peeled apart too soon. Looks like an under-exposed X-ray.

Result! Loving those light streaks, where did they come from?. Error #3 touching the wet negative leaves a fingerprint - actually I don’t really consider that an error, it adds a personal touch.

Self portrait 1966 Polaroid 250 expired film.

Really looking forward to see what else this beast of a camera produces.

'It’s dangerous to walk whilst using a tablet'. - Train rules. Kanazawa.

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On Japan’s west coast facing the cold winds of Mongolia is Kanazawa. Our penultimate destination. It was kept off the tourist map for a number of years, but thanks to the bullet train it’s now easily accessible. It’s very compact, a smaller version of Kyoto and a lot colder. 

Our authentic bijou, traditional Japanese Air BnB accommodation turned out to be a container unit. Lined with tatami mats, it was actually quite cosy once the heating was on. Unfortunately the bathroom was almost inaccessible. The walls and windows were paper thin -  a typical example of Japanese short-life building. 

Higashi Chaya is a whole neighbourhood of beautifully preserved geisha houses. The geishas have now left and their houses have become restaurants, teahouses and many identical souvenir shops. There are many kimono wearers to be seen wandering around the town, but these are all rented ones. 

Kenrokuen Garden is almost 30 acres and forms the green heart of Kanazawa. It’s ranked by the Japanese as one of the three perfect gardens in the country and ‘it’s a fine place for a peaceful and contemplative walk’. 

Kenrokuen means “six attributes garden,” which is a reference to a Chinese book that describes the six attributes of the perfect garden. As you wander around you discover perfect viewpoints, traditional teahouses and water used in different ways, all tucked away. It is not the size that is breathtaking, its that every angle has a truly amazing view, almost in a surreal way. 

It was perfect. Perhaps a little too perfect?

Throughout Japan’s towns and cities almost every bush and tree has been perfectly manicured or trained to grow in a particular way. Surely the beauty of nature is nature itself?

Digital birdsong in a garden with no wildlife, except for coy carp, is a complete mystery to me.

The garden has tea-ceremonies performed in the traditional teahouses. They are a bit strange to see - there’s multiple ones going on simultaneously. The buildings shutters are open so all the tourists can watch the tourists having a private ceremony.

But the uniqueness of Kanazawa we found were its conical trees. A visual spectacle like nothing we have seen before.

As the colours of autumn foliage deepens, November 1st  hails the beginning of the winter preparations. Its a very labour intensive busy spectacle called Yukizuri.

Snow that falls in the winter of Kanazawa is heavy in weight because the snow contains a large quantity of moisture. In order to prevent the branches of the beloved Karasaki pine trees from breaking, Yukizuri is performed. This is a method of protecting the branches with ropes attached in a conical arrangement to the trees. Skillful gardeners use more than 800 ropes to give Yukizuri to the pines. 

Gardeners on-top of the supporting poles throw out the ropes one by one until perfect cones of ropes are formed. Work continues round the city to mid-December; the Yukizuri ropes are left in place until March, when the heaviest snows finally stop falling.

It adds a surprisingly elegant touch to the garden’s winter scenery.

All around Kanazawa, these conical forms are being erected over trees, hedges and bushes . The great walls of the castle are also covered in woven matting to protect the stone. The town is literally wrapped up for winter.

How I would love to see this place in the snow, we were so close, it is was very much colder over this side of Japan. We were, however, pleased to see the colours of late Autumn.

In complete contrast, Kanazawa is known for its fresh fish and Omichi Market is where the locals all go in the mornings before the tourists arrive. The harsh fluorescent lighting indoor lighting and the shouting of the market traders makes this a completely different visual experience.

So we have reached the final leg of our unforgettable journey. Our last ride on the Bullet Train to our final destination - Tokyo.

'Please find vegetable juice to go into your wife' - Message on AirBnB from a kind host. Takamatsu.

We left the mainland of Japan via an almighty bridge to Shikoku Island - one of the five main islands of Japan. We were staying at the most northern point in Takamatsu, in a large traditional Japanese house. It seemed huge after the shoeboxes we have had. We even had our own Ikebana Room for flower arranging. This was really homely.

For me, the initial reason to come Shikoku Island lies in a place deep in the Tokushima's Iya Valley called Nagoro. A village inhabited by more scarecrows than humans. A complete indulgence of my doll obsession.

Hiring a car and driving in Japan is very easy as long as you have sat nav and money to pay the extortionate road tolls. The Iya Valley is quite an inaccessible place, so we hired a car to wind our way over Mount Tsurugi, the second highest mountain in Western Japan. 

We decided to follow Google maps and take the most direct route on a free road, perhaps, in hindsight not the wisest decision. It was a hell of a journey.

The mountains are huge and very steep. The mountain roads become lanes that snake up and up and up. It was hard work.

So at 2000 meters, ears popping, streamwater running over the roads, vision impeded by sun and a sheer drop immediately on one side, it did cross our minds that perhaps this wasn’t the sanest idea. There was no turning back, infact there was no turning… we had to pull over for the odd lumberjack lorry to squeeze past, but other that we were on our own.  I wanted a wow factor and this really was a WOW. The mountains are glorious, stunning and wondrous. I love mountains, but these, still shiny, in their autumn glory were a really special sight. 

We passed homes that are derelict, some collapsing over the mountain. The random villages were only partially inhabited. 

Some three hours later, we saw some farmers harvesting the crops and a street dotted with human-like figures.

We had arrived.

Outnumbering people ten to one, these life-size dolls are the work of one woman. Who, in a bid to fill the emptiness and loneliness felt in Nagoro, a village crippled by depopulation, has been creating a community of stuffed companions.

I felt privileged to be able to have the opportunity to photograph these adorable characters. It makes me smile when it’s difficult to see who is human and who isn’t. The gentleman on the far left was very welcoming and allowed us access to most parts of the village.

These are the creations by Tsukimi Ayano, who once lived in Nagoro when it had a little more vibrance. She moved back 17 years ago and decided to make the scarecrows in memory of the town's former residents, over 270 of them.

Inside the Community Hall, there appears to be a meeting on.

The sheer remoteness of this place means visitors are infrequent if not rare. The town is inhabited by a mere 27 people, most amenities have closed down and the youngest person is 55 years old. 

The school closed seven years ago as there was no one left to teach.

But now you are greeted by a whole community of scarecrows going about their business.

There’s even a meeting going on in the school office.

The Nagoro that Ms Ayano remembers was once a well-to-do place with some 300 residents and laborers supported by the forestry industry and dam construction work.

Its virtually empty now. Most of the amenities have closed down, including the grocery store and health centre. Its 200km to the nearest hospital. Ms Ayano hopes her scarecrows will inject a new life into the depopulated town.

Nagoro’s plight is replicated across Japan, as the world’s third-largest economy battles a declining rural population, low birth rate and high life expectancy. The country is on the verge of becoming the first “ultra-aged” country in the world, meaning that 28 percent of people are aged 65 or above.

As Japan’s population ages, towns all over the country and especially in remote rural areas are quickly disappearing, or at least the people that inhabit them are. Abandoned villages are becoming a common sight. 

Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has pledged to revive regions outside Tokyo by pumping in tens of billions of yen, but this is not enough to stop young people from leaving their hometowns to work in Tokyo.

We went home a more sensible route, but just as high. The view down on the autumn leaves, crystal clear rivers and canyons is something we will both remember. As well as the beautiful creations by Ms Ayano.

'I'm going to saddle a lampoon'. - Google Translate - Restaurant Menu. Hiroshima.

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Good afternoon Hiroshima.

It comes as no surprise that Hiroshima looks and feels quite similar to Nagasaki, possibly a little more alternative and arty, full of businesses and quite lively..

The designer high-end shops sit alongside market stalls and cheap drugstores.

The city is very layered, some buildings could have as many as 8 floors with different businesses.

The Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum and Park are both outstanding. It is monumental in all aspects - the space, presentation and content. You can’t fail to be moved by this place. A fitting memorial to the first bomb, again with many human tales of destruction and suffering beyond imagination, the town totally wasted. The drawings created by survivors had more meaning than any picture or story for us. They have little origami cranes they make to remember the dead and place them at temples and memorials, they look very beautiful. It was started by a girl who survived for about 20 years before dying from Leukaemia. The stories and images are brutal, more so than Nagasaki, due to the sheer quantity. Hundreds of school children are taken through, it is a necessary part of their curriculum. 

Hiroshima, like Nagasaki, have kept their streetcar system and it looks like the flagstones that the rails are set in could be originals. It makes me think how little attention to detail we give our street furniture in England. Money is used here to make the environment better for everyone. Maybe also, the fact that they don’t bury their cables means they don’t disturb the pavements and roads as much as we do. 

There is no litter, everyone takes their rubbish home with them. Eating whilst walking along or standing around on the street is frowned upon. However, it is acceptable to drink while standing aside a vending machine.

Out of view having a sneaky coffee and sandwich.

The lack of birds took an unexpected turn whilst here. The constant electronic notification noises that we are surrounded by have now incorporated the sound of a Cuckoo at road crossings, while digital birdsong plays gently in the background of public places.

Dogs are more frequent, but are carried or wheeled about in pushchairs. Is that the worry of messing up the streets? 

Hiroshima is a series of beautiful islands which is pretty cool, so using a train and a ferry included on our JR pass made it easy to visit the island of Miyajima to see the great floating Torii Gate. 

We checked the tide times in order to see them at their best, only to find the following:

‘During the renovation works, the torii gate is covered under a partially transparent scaffolding.’

Not totally accurate. 

The great gate and holy shrine puts Pushkar to shame. This is the real way to make money from religion. A colonnade of tourism shops selling novelty cakes, fast food and cutesy plastic toys. 

I got told off for taking this photograph of the Torii Gate.

After all the shopping you get mugged by the deer. They will rip open your souvenir bag to get the novelty cakes or fast food and hassle you relentlessly. They even eat the maps which is probably all they were good for.

The deer are very funny and adorable and did make the trip worthwhile, although the victims probably have a different perspective.

Clutching souvenir bags, having just been mugged by the deer.

You just cant be annoyed with them.

Hiroshima is a nice place. We liked the city and for Japan, a lively feel in the evenings. The bars have people in them and the shops though expensive are interesting to look at. It’s amazing how its been resurrected from its history.

'Please refrain from acts that are annoying to others'. - Food-Court Rules.

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As previously mentioned, another reason to travel over to Nagasaki was to go and see the Sumo Wrestling.

We bought our tickets in England as soon as they were released about 8 months ago. As promised, our tickets were waiting for us at our hotel when we arrived. We travelled two hours to the city of Fukuoka to watch the tournament that everyone over the age of 40 appeared to be glued to on both TV and the newspapers. 

Waiting the arrival of the Sumo Wrestlers

Sumo wrestlers are a lot like geishas, in as much that both their professions occupy all aspects of their lives. They have to live by rules that dictate their daily routines and decorum in and out of their sumo stables. As far as clothing is concerned, they are required to dress traditionally whenever seen in public. Interestingly, the specifics of how they are dressed is determined by their rank. For instance, lower ranked wrestlers only get to wear Yukatas even in winter. Sumo is a sport steeped in history and is still closely associated with its Shinto principles.

Inside, around the sacred arena, everyone sits on tatami mats or raised cushions in marked bays. Everyone takes food, beer and a few banners to hold. This is a long day and everyone takes supplies into the arena with them.

Oh my goodness how the ladies love the Sumo. In and out of the stadium, they were shouting, clapping, cheering and waving their banners. They queued behind the restriction tape desperate to get a photo of their favourites sumos. The men took a quieter approach and drank lots of beer.

Crowd control.

Unfortunate losers has to leave early.

Sumos are banned, by the Sumo Association, from driving their own cars.

Our day at Sumo was fascinating and very entertaining. It is potentially a sport with an uncertain future, as the harsh lifestyle makes it more and more difficult to attract new recruits.

So it’s farewell to Nagasaki. We are off to Hiroshima next.

'We look forward to returning without traffic accident.' - Car-hire Slogan. Nagasaki.

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Nagasaki was the only major port open to foreign trade during Japan's era of isolation, and the Chinese and Dutch were the only traders allowed in the city. Today, evidence of both these countries can be seen in various quarters of the city and in the food. In more recent history, Nagasaki became the second city after Hiroshima to be destroyed by an atomic bomb towards the end of World War Two.

We arrived late at night in the pouring rain, of course.

For us, travelling all the way over to Nagasaki was about seeing a variation of character and culture, Gunkanjima Island and Sumo Wrestling. Nagasaki isn’t just about the atomic bomb devastation, but it is a big part. My goodness though, once you’ve walked round the no-holds barred museum and seen the utter horror of it all, it is quite unbelievable how an area can come back from that.

Nagasaki feels different, a bit more chilled and very, very steep. The cars are not quite as pristine and the taxis still sport the white lace covers but the drivers don’t always wear white gloves.

The streets are less sanitised and there is a mixture of old and new and higgledy-piggledy disorder as you leave the centre.

Moving house looks hardwork.

The streetcars add a nostalgic charm, they are great for flitting round the city and we loved them.

Gunkanjima - Battleship Island was our initial reason to go to Nagasaki and we were devastated to discover that there were no boats landing there for the foreseeable future due to recent typhoon damage. Absolutely gutted, another one to add to the list of ‘Unseens’. 

Instead, we hired a car and went over to the ‘hidden potteries’. Well, they’re not that well hidden - it was like Hebden Bridge mid-summer. What we did find in the most beautiful village of Okawachiyama is the studios and kilns are all closed and turned into tourist shops, all selling traditional Japanese porcelain with no contemporary pieces. We enjoyed the mountainous backdrop and the beautiful setting.

We then drove to Arita, the home of porcelain. We saw the outlet stalls lining the roadside and decided to keep driving.

Most independent businesses appear to have very infrequent, random opening times. Maybe the big shopping malls have taken their business away?

The most peculiar thing is that here in Nagasaki, everywhere closes at 8.00pm. With the exception of a convenience store, a Pachinko Parlour or an occasional fast food restaurant. If there are late night bars and clubs hidden away you certainly don’t see them or hear them.

Pachinko customer.

So where is everybody?

'Strong realisation fur is real' - Headline - Front cover Hair Magazine. Google Translate.

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Kyoto is a place where the night takes on a different atmosphere.

Old Kyoto has two very different sides to it. The monied Geisha Pink-light district of Pontocho and the other seedier red light district filtering into the main canal area both found in Gion. 

Pontocho is made up of pretty lanes, almost too small for cars. It’s empty during the day despite being filled with tea houses, bars and restaurants that do not advertise to foreigners. 

At night there are a number of taxis circling the area. It’s spotlessly maintained and manicured for the wealthy, whether you’re after a  drink or a Geisha. This area feels like rich boys private playground.  

‘No photographs’ posters are on each street corner where geisha businesses run. I don’t think this is just about warding tourists off from taking selfies with a geisha, but more for the protection of the suited men diving in and out of taxis in the dead of night.

Due to the decline in girls wishing to become Geishas the rules have changed. Once the tuition fees and accommodation has been paid off they are now, apparently, free to set up a business of their own. The decline in popularity of becoming a geisha has also, allegedly, led to the introduction of a 3 month fast-track course which will teach you the basics of how to act and how to dance. These young ladies can earn about 250,000 Yen per month. 

Away from the affluence of Pontocho, the tourists, for a few 100 pounds, can be entertained and waited on by a Geisha. These ladies will either be the cheaper fast-tracked ladies or Maikos - Geisha apprentices.

A true Geisha is for Japanese men only and for huge sums of money. It’s a secretive world and in its demise still tries to keep the mystique around these dalliances that have happened for centuries. 

Along the canal would be beautiful in the spring with the cherry blossom and Kiyamchi was once an elegant place to wander. Ladies would come to shop, pretending not to notice the red light alleyways. 

Now many shops, restaurants and bars have succumbed to the overspill of the now public red light district. The touts now hang out on the main drag where the crowd is predominantly male, then escorts them to the various clubs and establishments in the back streets.

The lighting is different. Gone are the pink lanterns, now its harsh acrid florescent lights and cheap neon signs. A lot of still money changes hands here but the streets are grubby.

Some establishments are open 24 hours. Some offer alibis to wives, mothers and girlfriends. Others take reservations, address specific requests and have websites that list which girls are on duty and when. Most of the businesses are geared towards Japanese customers only. Foreigners are generally not welcome. 

'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade'. - Anon - Quote inside T-bag wrapper.

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Almost time to say goodbye to Osaka.

We decided to leave Osaka a little earlier than planned, but before that we went in search of a bike rental scheme. Not quite as straightforward or as cheap as in Taiwan and certainly not as flexible. 

Besides the metro, cycling is a popular form of transport for all age groups and here in Osaka I saw something different on the bikes, an umbrella and glove attachments. Not just for rain, but more so for sun. The women fear getting sun spots on their faces and hands so they shield themselves from the rays.

Our neighbourhood has a wide age spectrum, but we have noticed a large ageing population over here. Apparently 20% of Japan’s population are over 70 years old. The men work well into old age, performing what we would consider menial or unnecessary tasks. The older women don’t appear to work. 

On our city bikes, we zigzagged through suburbia to the port entrance. It’s still so clean and unnaturally quiet - You don’t see anyone, hear any birds or see any wildlife. Japanese gardens are not grown to keep wildlife happy, they are grown for ornamental purposes. The parks and planted areas are manicured and beautifully maintained.  

As you leave the city there’s a mixture of housing stock - detached houses, inter-dispersed with intense high-rises and streets upon streets that are deserted.

The houses are all detached - with no minimum distance between them which get a little wider the further out of town you go. The value of a house depreciates as soon as its purchased and is usually pulled down within 20 years. Town planning isn’t great and despite its extreme cleanliness,  its untidy with wiring overhead and lamp posts blocking pavements. The houses vary from old and ornate to minimal functional urban - They use a range of materials, wood, glass bricks and slowly rusting corrugated steel - the only rust we have seen in Osaka.  When they do use colour on their buildings it gives the area a welcome injection of life. I just wish there was more in the cities to break up the drabness, other than garish advertising. 

The houses are not made to last which is pretty wasteful and because they are detached, albeit by only a couple of inches, it is very easy to pull down a house and quickly put up another without affecting the neighbours. 

Railway lines and motorways layered above us as we followed the river round.

Over a bridge and then suddenly we were hit with an almighty blast of colour. Not subtle, but totally in your face, Gaudi meets Mondrian with a bit of added bling. This was Maishima. 

Often mistaken for being part of the nearby Universal Studios this is in fact The Maishima Incineration Plant and Sludge Center. It really packs a punch. The Incineration Plant receives around 12,000 visitors by accident every year, making it somewhat of an unlikely mini tourist attraction on its own.

Designed by late Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser  following the government’s request for the incinerator to represent the ‘fusion of technology, environment and art’.

You see school uniforms everywhere after 3.30 and at the weekends. The children have the same school days as the UK, but are at school for roughly 250 days of the year. They have a strict uniform code. They are trying to make Saturday school mandatory again. In the week the children attend clubs after school, followed by Cram Class for 2 hours. Then they have homework to do. 

The students often have school trips at weekends and holidays on which they have to wear their uniforms. Teachers work on average a 56+ hour per week The government has now capped their overtime, but it has been reported that some teachers don’t clock in their extra hours sometimes doing as much as 100 a month - without pay, not wishing to admit they are going over the regulated overtime. They have a teacher’s union but I question why they dont fight back

Playground.

By way of a complete contrast to the empty outskirts we popped back to downtown Shinsekai.

In 1912 Shinsekai was opened as an entertainment district and originally modelled the southern end on Coney Island, New York and the north on Paris.

Shinsekai translates as ‘New World’ and because of its then modern image and Lunar theme park the area quickly gained popularity. Now, its tired and neglected. I was hoping to see the remains of  the deserted amusement park, but it’s all disappeared. In the centre, however, stands a tower ‘leading to heaven’. The gorgeous 1950s Tsutenkaku Tower – even though it’s short by todays standards, Tsutenkaku still stands out. At night it’s all lit up and by day it looks like a scene in Thunderbirds. The colours of the lights change with the seasons. The tower is so loved by the community that the area immediately around it has remained low level albeit crammed with fast food restaurants and souvenir shops giving a nod to the heyday of Coney Island.

Japan’s very own Eiffel Tower.

Pachinko parlours are everywhere through out the city, squeezed into any space or housed in a dedicated brightly coloured high-rise.

Shinsekai Locals

When you go up the tower you are reminded how the cities from Kobe to Kyoto now merge into one huge conurbation with Osaka in the middle.

Randomly, when you exit the tower, there is a Pocky Museum which you have to go through featuring a tower made of chocolate biscuits. Followed by the obligatory corridor of Gashapons the toy-vending machines.

Time to go home to pack. We’re off to Kyoto.