Old and New

When people travel abroad, it's obviously tempting to photograph things that appear exotic to their eye, hence the propensity to document the best-known tourist attractions. Such subjects are also what their audience wants as a way of vicariously living through through this kind of imagery: luscious nature, unusual architecture, traditionally clad people.

I won't lie that I'm not similarly attracted to, say, Shinto shrines and the most famous sites of natural beauty when it comes to Japan. Yet what I'd almost rather photograph—when there is the possibility to do so—is everyday scenes that are either aesthetically pleasing or attractive in some other way. That is to say, their interest should arise from something other than exoticism.

Take this simple night scene, for instance. It emphasizes the contrast between a row of lanterns and the “window,” through the trees, onto a major street in Shinjuku, Tokyo. Old and new. Traditional and contemporary. 

Yet by being in Japan, this scene strikes me more than similar instances in places like Moscow, which I may even overlook, where old churches can often be found next to sleek high-rises. 

So the goal, perhaps, is to be even more subtle. 

Japan, Again

I just returned from my much-needed, albeit equally brief vacation, which I took, you guessed it, in Japan. I've done a few travel updates on my Instagram, but have neglected this blog.

This changes now.

My first update is a simple image of one of the many fox statues at the iconic Shinto Fushimi-Inari shrine, the earliest structures of which date to the 8th century, in Kyoto. I'm no expert on Japanese mythology, though it seems like here the fox carriers a similar multifaceted function to foxes from other cultures: messengers for communication with another world, tricksters. 

Lines and Lights

Truth be told, tonight I felt somewhat under the weather. However, Friday was my last day in Japan, so I forced myself to leave the hotel and engage in a bit of nighttime city photography.

In the case of urban architecture, especially, my goal is to present things from an unusual perspective, with the greatest image depth, emphasizing the lines and colors of electric lighting. 

These samples are, of course, merely iPad photos, but I think they reflect the above quite well. For this purpose, I normally use a a Pentax fish-eye lens, which is a blessing and a curse in one package: it covers around 180 degrees, i.e., more than the eye could see, for widtpanoramas, but, at the same time, warps the perspective inward. The key is to find the balance between the two. 

And so I ran around, in between coffees to keep warm (it rained and snowed because Tokyo is sad to see me go! ;)) shooting the streets and the people inhabiting them, in Shinjuku. In the end, I think I lost all shame and photographed things without worrying about what people might think of me! 

image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg

Playing Dress-up

Today began with playing dress-up.

I suspect that certain typical Western ladies put on kimonos or, at least, yukatas when they visit Japan as well. Or course, I'm neither Western, nor typical, damn it! ;) 

This was a much more personal experience than it must be for those tourists, since my "Japanese mother" and her family member offered to educate me in the ways of dressing in this manner. All I've learned is that there are countless little strings that hold up the entire construction, which requires time, patience, and skills to put together. I suppose Western corsets would be the closest equivalent, though the latter are a lot more rigid.

I've developed respect for those women of the old that had to function in kimonos for more than an hour!

Oh, and my body is SO not made for this! 

I think you have a pretty good idea why that is. Despite that, the end result turned out surprisingly aesthetically pleasing. I view myself as a bit of a Russian Barbarian (tongue in cheek), but even the baby-pink pastels seemed to work well for me. 

It is obvious, then: every lady needs to get her own Japanese mother! (Note: the original Russo-Georgian mother approves of this message.)

image.jpg
image.jpg

Ueno

Today, I planned to travel outside Tokyo only to realize this morning that--despite eating copious amounts of dark chocolate and ingesting too much caffeine--I'm kind of...well...exhausted. Russian superwoman don't like to acknowledge their weaknesses in public!

But the latter ended up working out to my advantage: I decided to undertake something tried and tested: Ueno, where I haven't been since 2009. Actually, that is where I stayed during my first visit to Japan.
 
So, you know: memories. 

The Ueno Park turned out to be a great idea for two reasons. First, I got to capture all kinds of images of crows and ravens in a variety of styles, from close-up portraits to painterly minimalism. (There seems to be less of a size difference between the two as compared to a North America, so sometimes it is hard to tell them apart!) Second: the Moon.

Actually, I forgot about the Moon completely (!), but I noticed that it was waxing and quite visible in suburban, "sky-scraperless" Saitama on Wednesday night. Naturally, I couldn't help myself, especially in light of K-3's higher resolution as compared to the K-7. I even "Googled" the sunset and moonset times for Tokyo! 

And, what can I say, it was glorious. Total darkness. Serenading crows. Ueno Park trees resembling Tim Burton's aesthetic. And a perfect waxing crescent tilted differently as compared to what I'm used to seeing in Montana. 

Totally worth freezing my fingers!

Thank you, Ueno. Thank you, Moon. 

P.S. In the meantime, all I have is mobile daytime images.

image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg

Kamakura

The 800-year-old city of Kamakura is only an hour outside of Tokyo, which makes it an ideal location for the first-time tourists, and also explains why I've avoided it until now.

Had I known that I would encounter a multitude of large predatory birds like kites perpetually circling up above in search of food (other animals and your lunch alike), I would've been here long ago. For me, the latter's hypnotic air exercises would've been reason enough to visit. Then there are ravens, crows, white pigeons, the ocean, mountains, woods, blooming plum trees...

Oh, and the great Buddha along with temples and shrines, of course!

But the birds. THE BIRDS! 

I'm seriously considering returning on Thursday or Friday for the sole purpose of photographing them.

And I owe it all to the lady to whom I often refer as my "Japanese mother," who, in the span of only a few hours, managed to show me so much that I almost ran out of memory cards for my camera. And my iPad, the mobile photos from which you see below, is just about out of space.

image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg

Rain

Today was meant to be the day of shooting a model. We gradually made our way to Shinjuku Gyoen, where I somehow seem to end up every time I come to Tokyo. I wanted to create a visual contrast between a sharp urban punk aesthetic and the natural surroundings.

As the weather changed from drizzling to unexpectedly bone-chilling rain, I first stopped taking mobile proofs, like the ones below, ultimately cutting our exercise short and running--two girls in high-platform shoes--inside somewhere, anywhere that served what seemed like life-saving coffee at that time. 

I flew in from -20 degrees in the Rockies, but I wasn't dressed to this!

Nonetheless, I think I've managed to create some worthwhile images to justify extreme modeling par excellence for this poor girl! And, I've even snuck in a few photographs of Japan's amazing ravens to which I'm always drawn--all to be worked on when I have access to a computer.

Also, the park looked as striking as always, only this was a subtler kind of beauty.

Hopefully, the weather improves in the next few days, because I'd like to engage in some photographic people-watching around Shinjuku before leaving next weekend. 

image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg

Nara? Narnia

As I've mentioned before, I've been visiting Japan "backward": from lesser-known places like Morioka during my very first trip working up to major tourist attractions like Narnia...err...Nara today.

One of the biggest deterrents? The other "Western" tourists. Why, yes, I realize that, to a certain extent, this sounds hypocritical, though I'd like to convince myself that the kind of photography I do is a little more serious. (All photos here were shot merely by an iPad.)

Today, however, I found out that even a place brimming with the non-Japanese can be wonderful. It's all about the company you keep.

That is, this is the case if you're sufficiently sleep-deprived, which makes everything a bit more funny, and your unofficial tour guide is your very own former Japanese teacher, to whom you normally refer as Mister Middlemountain. 

The latter and I went on many adventures in Narnia. We fought off some overly dependent and permanently hungry deer, which are the perfect metaphor for the welfare-state citizens; got soaked in the rain; did not climb through Buddha's nostril; passed by the Girl Who Was Death; got soaked some more; listened to hooting owls; unsuccessfully looked for predatory mammals (who ate all that deer before the welfare state?); more rain; saw many predatory birds; found X-rated bamboo; almost bought a pregnancy-wish charm at a shrine by accident (okay, this was my accidental almost-doing, I ended up buying a generic good-luck one to cover all the bases!); got lost in the woods slightly fearing the local ghosts and the second appearance by the Girl Who Was Death, this time, perhaps, with a scythe; and, exhausted, barely made it to my Shinkansen back to Tokyo, where I write this now.

Doesn't this sound exactly like something one would expect from a magical place like Narnia? 

image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg

Oh, and this:

image.jpg

Dazaifu

Moscow, beloved though it is, is not Russia, and Tokyo is not Japan, particularly at the era of near-complete globalization. Perhaps, it sounds contrived, but my idea of "real" Japan lies in smaller towns. 

One of them is Dazaifu.

As with yesterday's impromptu visit to the coast of Fukuoka, today's stroll through Dazaifu's gardens and temples was a decision graciously made for me by a friend, and I'm glad it was this place that got chosen.

Normally, I briefly research what I visit, so this time around I was more than pleasantly surprised to be standing in a town not only quaint and surrounded by beautiful scenery, but also one with certain key buildings as old as the 8th century. Indeed, it was an international hub with foreign embassies even earlier. 

To top that off, we really lucked out with the warm and sunny weather and all the plum trees already exploding into every blooming shade in the red part of the color spectrum, making the experience into a well-balanced mix of nature and culture.

Tomorrow promises to be a long journey back to Tokyo--where I should spend almost a week--with a daytime stopover in Osaka and Nara, if all goes as planned. In the meantime, I leave you with these mobile remnants of today.

image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg

The Sea

My plans to play a predictable tourist and visit the castle ruins in Fukuoka were thwarted when I stopped by an area map at the train station only to realize that there is a seaside park that I absolutely must visit! 

This park, Umi no naka michi, did not come up in my Google search. Blasphemy!

I admit I am not a spontaneous person: I really don't like changing plans last minute (especially if I'm not the culprit!). That said, I can be spontaneous within a designated time frame. Let me explain: if I know that I'm going to take a day off, then flexibility within that day is not only permitted, but sometimes welcome. 

This was one of those cases.

Of course, I knew this was a solitary day, too, so I hopped onto two local trains (beaming with pride that I didn't get lost even without the English-language announcements) and walked into the drizzling glory that is essentially the Fukuoka shoreline of the Sea of Japan.

I met two funny cats, several very large winged predators (one has to have been a golden eagle), my favorite ravens in countless numbers, and a multitude of tiny and colorful birds chirping about.  I wandered down the cool, winding paths, empty on a weekday so early in the season, and even turned off the music to better tune into the sounds of the forest.

When the rain slowed down, I was able to change my lenses and photograph both the wildlife with a telephoto and the plants with a macro. 

And the brooding sea that wasn't in the best of moods? I had to use the fish-eye...then the macro...then the telephoto. You get the idea. 

I can't wait to work on the images. In the meantime, here are some mobile proofs and candids.

image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg
image.jpg