The Monochrome Chronicles #09: Tokyo after Midnight
This episode of The Monochrome Chronicles covers a lot of territory, in terms of both time and content. Night photography is a genre I began to explore back in NYC and have continued to practice since moving to Tokyo almost 20 years ago. A confirmed nightbird, I’m quite comfortable roaming the streets after midnight.
Unlike my other series such as Markets in Southeast Asia or Salaryman in Japan, which had more-or-less defined objectives, night photography has been a continuing pursuit that followed its own gerrymandering path. Or, to put it another way, I always carry my camera and I never know what images will pop up when I’m on the streets at night. The images in this episode are best viewed as stand-alone images rather than an integrated series, I think.
The character of Tokyo streets changes after dark. That’s true of most large cities, I suppose, but for me the surprising thing is that many streets are so quiet at night, which maybe is surprising to me because I lived for 25 years in NYC, the city that never sleeps. Tokyo has its pockets of hectic night life, but also large patches of quiet.
On the edge of Yoyogi Park late at night, this scene was eerily quiet. The image evokes a feeling of loneliness. Or is it mystery? It could be a feeling of fear. Or nostalgia, with the phone booth rapidly becoming a relic of an earlier era. Strange to realize that this was part of metropolitan Tokyo at night.
A back alley in old Ebisu. Someone was living here, with only the glass door between their home and the alley. The frosted glass door, with a suggestion of a person standing behind it, was lit from behind. Slippers were placed neatly in front of the door. And a single towel was hanging out to dry. Just one moment in an everyday life in Ebisu. Although the back alley was dark and quiet, on the adjacent street were six lanes of traffic – with cars, taxis and busses whizzing by. Groups of young people would be laughing and chattering. Those streets would be illuminated brightly with street lights, traffic lights, neon signs. What a difference from the peaceful back alley. In a way, this photograph is a still life.
As the viewer, you may perceive this to be a representational image or an abstract image. I see it as an abstract statement, vaguely referring to M. C. Escher. In one sense, it is a simple geometric composition. Still, it intrigues me. Rotate it upsidedown and it gives another impression. Actually, it is one of those “everything is right” images but as an abstract expression it invites further introspection.
On the surface this is just a kitchen window from the outside, but the image invites speculation about the life behind the curtains. The curtains seem to be moving as if the window were open. The window glass features an etched design reminiscent of an old style, which helps set the mood. Something was going on in this kitchen. During one of my evening jaunts in one of the smaller neighborhoods, I began to consider the windows, especially those on the ground floor of the houses. What struck me was that, whereas in NYC the ground floor windows are not visible because they were either shuttered or heavily curtained, the ground floor windows in Tokyo are not only visible but accessible. Frosted glass typically is used to provide privacy. These images offer just the barest hint of the life behind the windows.
Walking along the streets at night, especially the back streets, offers a view of the windows at street level. Another viewpoint is the streets per se. Although traffic abounds on many streets, my camera and I gravitate to vacant streets.
This street in Ameyokocho, one of the busiest shopping districts during the day, is vastly different at night. At midnight this street was vacant, exuding an eerie ghostly atmosphere. The street and sidewalks, denuded of traffic and pedestrians, were remarkably clean. The composition here may make a Western viewer uncomfortable due to the wide vacant space, but this is one of the strengths of the photograph. It draws the viewer’s eyes to the bright lights in the distance, a startling contrast to the rest of the frame. Most of the image suggests order and stillness but the background hints at something else.Absent any context, sometimes questions have no answers. Too much uncertainty crowds this image. The perspective in this image is warped. The curving white lines arise from a dark corner or from outside the frame but where they lead is uncertain. The perspective is from above the street light, which seems to arise from the middle of the street. Some buildings rise vertically while others slant outward. This was Friday night and though the trains, bars and izakaya would have been crowded and noisy, this street seemed eerily quiet. This was just a quick unplanned shot. The alley was in transition. The old shops had been closed down and shuttered. Some vestiges of old posters remained. The floor had been cleaned and buffed. Bright lights shined overhead. There was no clue what would come next. The strong horizontal lines of the composition draw the eye into the far end of the alley – but there is nothing there either. The incongruous bicycle draws the viewer into the frame, but the why is missing. The image as a whole is an enigma.View from the balcony of my apartment. Usually at night, I can hear street sounds in the neighborhood: people talking and laughing, traffic noises, an occasional siren, the clack-clack-clack of the Yamanote trains, even the clatter of dishes from the restaurant kitchen across the street. A typhoon changed all that. During the typhoon the only sounds were the roar of wind and the downpour of rain. Without the sounds of people, the city seemed lonely. The constant sound of the torrential rain was somehow comforting. The tremendous power of a storm is magnified at night. An odd assortment of textures and tones carrom around the frame in this image, creating a sense of uncertainty. A rank of magazine stalls runs along one side of a small pedestrian mall and bicycle parking lot. Vague figures lurk in the shadows at the edges of the frame. A lone salaryman, his briefcase in one hand, the other hand holding his cellphone to his ear, is standing as if he were a statue. The point of view hovers above the scene. This is Shibuya at night from a different viewpoint. The reality seems distorted. Somehow this image is unsettling.This image portrays a mystery. The many layers of light and shadow contribute to the feeling of mystery. Where were the people – passengers or train crew? Who was the observer here and from where? What was going on here? Actually, nothing was going on – and that is the mystery.Certainly, a scene such as this is unexpected in downtown Tokyo at night. Responding to my little inner voice, this was just a quick-grab shot. And deconstructing the scene by eliminating the context takes the image into another dimension. Brick walls sometimes capture the attention of my camera but here the attention goes far beyond the wall per se. This scene is rather threatening. It haunts me.So many conflicting elements appear in this image and yet they coalesce to create an evocative image. In one sense, the rich shades of gray, white and black, and the variation in textures are what distinguish this image. It is almost an abstract image. The three layers of the monk’s robe complement each other – and are the only soft elements in the composition. His robes also are the only element of motion, flowing gracefully – yet even his feet are motionless. The young girl in the corner, at first seeming like a distraction, creates tension in the composition. Despite all these potentially conflicting elements, or perhaps because of them, the image becomes quite expressive, encompassing both the solemn world of a Buddhist monk and the glib world of a teenage girl.Sometimes street photography means just waiting for something to happen rather than seeking it out. I was sitting on a bench outside the train station late at night after the station had closed, just resting, when these two guys walked by. Snap and the moment was history, but also preserved on film.In the absence of context, this could be a street portrait of an attractive young man on a sidewalk. I’m tempted to leave it at that. A street photographer, especially at night, has little control over lighting of the subject. Instead, the key is to recognize when the available light will create the right image. In this instance, the image caught the man in a pensive mood with his eyes seemingly gazing far away. Some photographs need neither analysis nor interpretation. This is one of them.A moment of street theater is preserved on celluloid in this frame. In this instance, the context is key to appreciation of the image. The location was Kabukicho, a glittery, gritty neighborhood with many bars, clubs, escort bars and such. This young man maybe was what is known as a “chimpira,” a sort of sidewalk hawker who tries to lure people into a nightclub. The tension in this image arises between the intense look on the woman’s face and the indifference on the man’s face.Here I’m toying with the viewer’s imagination. I know, that is I remember, what was happening but to reveal this would be to trivialize the image. Clearly this is a deviation from my usual style, a lucky accident. The sensation of motion is doubled because both the figure (make that “figures”) and the background are blurred. As a jarring element, the man’s shadow and the horizontal white lines are nearly in focus, or so it would seem. The blur and the poor focus, which would be fatal flaws in other photographs, are the strengths of this image. The only missing element is a vivid imagination and that is my challenge to the viewer.A portrait of contemplation. The composition seems studied but it was not. In fact, this image was shot from the hip. The lighting, the man’s posture, everything was “as is.” The foreground may seem distracting, but I would disagree. These two blurred areas (actually they are table tops) enhance the feeling of isolation or distance. Obviously, the man in silhouette is the subject. All the other elements in the composition serendipitously draw the viewer’s attention to the man, who was sitting alone, having a late-night cup of coffee.The ubiquitous smartphone has a lot to answer for, in my opinion anyway, and much of that is superfluous. Outside the backdoor of this mid-rise building sat this young man relaxing, probably taking a break from his manual labor job. The overall composition of this image is quite pleasing despite the wonky camera angle (and yes, it was shot-from-the-hip). The mix of soft grays in the middle of the film’s palette is especially pleasing. To me, the jarring element is his smartphone. I’ll give you 10-to-1 odds that he was using it for recreation rather than for communication. Absent the smartphone, this would be a restful image of a young guy relaxing at midnight on a warm summer evening.
Turning to yet another side of nightlife on the streets, these next images show some of the amenities available late at night. The trains in Tokyo stop running about 1:00AM so most shops close early, except some that cater largely to people in the neighborhood.
Shops like this one used to operate at many sites in Tokyo but this one is a 21st century, woman-owned venture. Fresh vegetables are available throughout the day and night…and on an honor system. The stand is unattended late at night and shoppers are honor-bound to drop the correct change (¥100 per package) through a slot on the lid of a tin can. Unexpectedly, there are no shoppers in the frame. Actually, many people patronize the stall in the evening, so I had to wait for this shot which was what I wanted for some unknown reason. Consequently, this image symbolizes two aspects of Japanese culture: entrepreneurship and trust. The photograph does convey the message about trust and safety, I think, but I need to explain about entrepreneurship. The stronger message is that this is a throw-back to an earlier period in history.Many bars and restaurants are on the upper floors of buildings in Tokyo, giving privacy and maybe escape from the outside. This restaurant was an exception, being located at ground level. Maybe it is not obvious but this photograph was taken from outside the building through a large plate-glass window. The scene was the end of a dinner party, a group of maybe 6 or 8 people. The guests had left and the staff had not yet begun to clear the table. The room seemed to be suddenly quiet, in my imagination. Earlier the room would have resounded with lively conversation, frequent bursts of laughter, the clinking of glasses. Now only silence remained. The point of view here – that is, the emotional point of view – is unconventional. It portrays the end of an event. Most neighborhoods in Tokyo are modern, with contemporary architecture and in some areas glaring neon, but some pockets of old Tokyo remain. “Old” is a relative term, surely, but here in Japan many buildings are replaced every 30-40 years or so. Places like this coin laundry – from the 1960’s I’d guess – still exist, hidden away in some down-scale neighborhoods. Next door was an even older public bathhouse. The composition of this image may seem a bit rigid at first glance but is rescued by the subtle imbalances. The doors are off-center with two windows on one side and one on the other. The sign over the door is bisected both horizontally and vertically. The mood feels like time suspended. Clearly it was evening and the street was dimly lit, but in contrast the interior was bright with fluorescent lights. No one was there. Nothing was happening. The scene just exists.All-night convenience stores such as this are ubiquitous in Tokyo. In Japanese language they are called “combini.” The setting for this image is mostly obvious except for one element. This combini was located underneath an elevated train line track – hence the overall darkness on the outside. These combini provide essential services both day and night. Somehow the composition based on the rule of thirds, and the contrast between darkness on the outside with brightness inside, conveys the idea of a safe haven.A moment suspended outside of time. I’m tempted to say that the figure evokes the idea of a voyeur but more likely he was just an observer of life outside his window. Two distinctive elements of Japanese design appear in this image. The obvious one is the string of paper lanterns. Less obvious is the interior of the room with a picture rail near the ceiling and pictures that slant downward. Essentially, the mood is one of expectation.
This issue of The Monochrome Chronicles has focused on my night photography on the streets in Tokyo. For me, nighttime, especially after midnight, is the time for creativity and contemplation. This is where my little inner voice and my camera lead me. I can become an invisible observer on the streets after midnight. While other photographers, notably Daido Moriyama among others, have delved into the grittier side of Tokyo at night, my images reveal the softer, more melancholy side of the streets after midnight.
