Hello again from Tokyo

Before I get into the gear talk, which is something a bit different from my usual content, here are a few pictures that I was especially happy with last month.

A few favourite photos from June

Nowadays I only post sets of photos, as I find that’s the best way to try and tell stories or fully capture everyday life. These though I feel also work as single images, plus a new to me old vending machine is always special. I’ve added links to the relevant series they belong to.

Several interconnected Shinjuku alleyways documented over a decade

Scenes from a long, north Tokyo meander

Random, everyday Tokyo street scenes

Why I use a Leica M

It’s often repeated that, ‘The best camera is the one you have with you’, which it has to be said is pretty much impossible to argue with.

If, however, you almost always carry the same camera anyway, or at the very least would like to, then in many ways the best camera is the one you have a real affinity with. One that essentially feels a part of you. And for me, that is the Leica M. A camera I’ve been using in various iterations since 2011.

Prior to using a Leica, I’d moved from film compacts when first arriving in Japan, to a Nikon DSLR. The latter was hugely pivotal, as the digital experience provided both versatility and immediacy, which played a key role in moving my photography forward. The massive array of available lenses also allowed me to experiment with a variety of focal lengths.

Over time I slowly began to settle on a 35mm prime, which got me thinking about a different approach. Something more discreet and better suited to street photography. A thought process that coincided with the chance to buy a used Leica at a decent price. And without knowing an awful lot about what I was purchasing (apart from the fact that it looked good), I took the plunge. A decision that changed the way I took pictures pretty much overnight.

Zone focusing became a thing, as did closer candid shots. I really started leaning into more documentary territory too. Of course a Leica isn’t the only tool for such work. Far from it. But for me at least it proved to be a catalyst of sorts. And now, all these years later, I can’t imagine using anything else. It’s everything I need, plus it feels just right in the hand. Looks great too. A timeless design that has barely changed since the M’s inception in 1954.

And yet all that said, it most definitely isn’t for everyone. That reverential nod to the past design-wise comes with technology of the past as well. An optical viewfinder, rangefinder manual focus, no image stabilisation, and an exposure meter that is rudimentary when compared to most modern cameras. Elements that are understandably a deterrent for many, as well as an absolute no-go for certain types of photography.

For what I do though it’s ideal, making it an absolute joy to use. As well as being suited to my needs in the way it operates, it’s also small and discreet, meaning it allows me to get shots in more intimate surroundings. Due to my version’s brass construction, it’s also gradually showing signs of usage, giving the camera a unique patina. Wear, dents and scratches that mark the places it has been and the way I use it. All of which make me want to carry it with me almost everywhere I go, meaning the best camera for me is the one I always have with me anyway.

Sticking to just one lens

Finally, on my M is one lens that almost never gets taken off. A 35mm Summicron. The same focal length that got me interested in a Leica in the first place, and one that has become integral to the way I shoot — both in regards the photographs I take for myself, and for clients.

Essentially it’s how I see the world, and as such I know exactly where I need to be to get the photo I want. A stripping down of choices combined with the speed of familiarity that makes the restriction of one lens liberating rather than limiting.

And that is pretty much it for my digital photography. A simple setup that suits me perfectly, which is all that really matters at the end of the day.

And that then wraps up another newsletter. A diversion into gear that I hope was interesting. I do get asked a lot, so it felt worthwhile mentioning.

Speak to you in the next one. An edition that will definitely contain more photos, and if all goes to plan, some added social history too.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from Tokyo

The idea for this edition of the newsletter came about because of a new street photography book, NOW IS NOW TOKYO, which I am pleased to be a part of. It includes the work of 18 photographers, and is already out in Europe, with the US and Japan release dates set for the end of this month.

The book contains 10 of my photographs along with a short interview, and the process initially involved me choosing a 30 image long list. A set that was then whittled down to the requisite number. An always tricky process that I mercifully had no part in, and just like my zine (signed copy and print set available here), it was interesting to see what made the final selection, as well as how they were sequenced. A few were cropped too which is something I very rarely do.

Those decisions were then run by me, and thankfully I was more than happy with the results, so for a behind the scenes look as it were, I’ll show the images that didn’t make it, and then a selection of those that did. Plus for a bit of a break in-between, I’ll talk a little about the pushback I sometimes receive for talking such photos, along with my approach when going about making them.

The long list

Tokyo street photography rights and perceived wrongs

Tokyo is a truly wonderful city for photography. For starters there are so many different areas, allowing one to choose what kind of environment to experience on each and every outing. It’s also camera friendly, with very few restrictions on taking photos in public spaces.

Good locations alone aren’t enough though, as ultimately it’s the inhabitants that make a place genuinely interesting. One-time only moments and daily interactions that to my mind at least are the true essence of a city. Little human vignettes that I almost exclusively capture with a 35mm lens, which means I have to get fairly close to the people I photograph. In that respect what I’m doing is always clear and obvious. An aspect I feel is important, as whatever one’s opinion of taking candid pictures of strangers, doing so honestly and openly at least allows those in the frame to object if they want to.

Thankfully, very few subjects do complain, with the vast majority either oblivious or indifferent, and the few that do stop to say something are usually inquisitive rather than angry. Unexpected conversations that are almost always enjoyable. Informative too, with a good amount of my knowledge concerning old buildings, ownership etc. coming from such encounters.

That candid element, however, is something I quite often get a bit of flack for, with the majority of criticism found on Facebook for some reason — the lack of permission always a big issue, along with the regularly touted private nature of the Japanese. The latter is a rather sweeping generalisation it has to be said, but I do appreciate that the idea of not asking before pressing the shutter isn’t for everyone. Neither is actually taking such photos, but time and practice have made it a lot easier for me, as in the early days it really was quite intimidating.

Like many things in life, confidence is a big factor, and helping build that is something I often do on my Tokyo Photowalk Tours. Seeing a customer gradually find it easier to take unposed shots as the day goes on is always rewarding. Those initial steps are an often difficult hurdle to get over, but once tackled it makes the process a lot easier going forward.

All of which I could have probably summed up by saying people are inherently interesting, and to not photograph them seems far worse than any awkwardness or possible issues in regards privacy/permission. The results shown here hopefully prove that point, and with that rather long-winded ramble over, here are some of the photos that made the book.

The chosen ones

Printing is the end result for photography, so it’s always incredibly nice to see my work in newspapers and magazines, but books are a bit special to say the least, with hopefully more to come in the future.

And talking of which, along with my own book, I do sell prints, with a selection in my shop, but should you want a specific image, like any of those shown here for example, you can get in touch via my new custom print page.

A final little plug that wraps up another newsletter. Thanks as always for reading this far.

Speak to you in the next one.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from Tokyo

Before I get to the main topic. One that it has to be said I have something of an obsession with. I’d just like to mention that my friend Giovanni and I still have a few places left on our November, Autumn Foliage with Urban and Rural Nostalgia workshop. Details are here should you be interested.

I’ve also completely revamped my portfolio site in both looks and content. So if you fancy seeing my photos in a much larger format, then this is the address: https://leechapman.photos

Retro Japanese vending machines

And now, the far more interesting topic of this month’s offering. Old, broken, and for me at least, absolutely fabulous looking Japanese vending machines.

Finding them is always a treat. Their retro looks are the main draw, but there’s also something weirdly endearing about the way they still stand proud despite being long disused and devoid of both power and products. Like loyal sentinels unwilling to give up their posts in case somehow, on some future day, they’ll once again be called upon to dispense their wares.

Most of them I’ve encountered by chance, even a few on my Tokyo Photowalk Tours, but a couple were spotted online and then eventually located. The rusty Coca-Cola machine below being one such case, with the resultant photo requiring a 3 1/2 hour train journey. A bit excessive it has to be said, but at the same time the trek out to see it felt completely worthwhile. Mostly because it looked so good, but also, just like several of these, it has since been removed. Its long, roadside existence now sadly no more.

All of these, just like any of my photos, are available as prints. Knowing what images to offer though is tricky to say the least, so please feel free to get in touch if there’s a specific photograph you’d like printed. That said, these are the current bestsellers from the ones I have chosen to showcase in my shop.

The joy of toast

Lastly, and on a decidedly cheery note, is a machine that has not only survived, but remains in full working order. One of a handful left that still gets restocked daily. And even better. Way better in fact. Is the wonderful detail that it dispenses toast. Not the best toast it has to be said. But still, toast. From a vending machine. How truly marvellous is that?

An unusual, and somewhat soggy bread-based offering that wraps up another newsletter.

Thanks as always for subscribing, and do please spread the word if you enjoy these monthly updates.

Speak to you in the next one.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from Tokyo

Spring is very much in the air in the Japanese capital. The warmer weather has been with us for a while now, and the famous cherry blossoms are already past their best.

The latter aren’t something I particularly seek out, although they do appear as backdrops to some of my photos. That said, I once took a picture of a cat wearing pearls sat in a cherry tree. So here’s that one for something a bit different.

New autumnal Japan workshop

After the success and enjoyable nature of our winter photography workshop, my friend Giovanni and I will now be conducting an autumn outing. Another 8-day trip that will also combine landscape and old school street photography — elements that lean into our individual strengths as well as giving the workshop a unique set of offerings.

This is the info should you be interested: Japan November Photography Workshop 2026 — Autumn Foliage with Urban and Rural Nostalgia.

And these are some of my promo photos chosen for the old school streets and nostalgia element of the trip.

The Vanishing World zine

Last month, Bump Books released a zine of my work. The process was interesting as I didn’t choose the photos included. Something that can be challenging, as not only do my favourites change over time, but I invariably have memories attached to the images I’ve taken, making it difficult to be objective.

Thankfully I’m very happy with the resultant selection, and indeed the zine as a whole. It’s relatively small in regards dimensions (210mm x 148mm), but it nonetheless still boasts 25 photographs.

There are details here on the Bump Books website, plus I have a limited number of signed copies available that I’m offering at a reduced price in combination with an A4 print of the overgrown car shot below — or a print of your choosing if you get in touch before ordering. Available from my shop should you be interested, with free worldwide shipping included. Prints, books and my Tokyo Photowalk Tours are a big part of my business, so all support is very much appreciated.

Tokyo (mostly) in monochrome

And finally, the main topic. The Japanese capital in black and white. Well, mostly Tokyo along with a couple of other locations.

I used to take a lot of black and white photographs. The main reason being that I found the myriad of colours one sees in Tokyo incredibly distracting — their presence often seeming to confuse rather than compliment the image.

Gradually, however, I began to see those colours as not only important in capturing how Tokyo actually looks, but also as key parts of the overall composition. So nowadays, while I still enjoy looking at black and white images, I very rarely ever think of shooting that way. An approach that admittedly may change, and it’s easy to imagine I’ll go back to taking some, if not necessarily many, monochrome photos. For now though, it’s colour all the way, so looking back at these images gives them extra interest. For me at least, anyway. Not only was it a different time, but also a different way of thinking. One of the many steps in my photographic journey, of which all being well there’ll be many more still to come.

Thoughts that wrap up another newsletter, so thanks a lot for subscribing, and please do spread the word if you enjoy these updates.

Speak to you in the next one.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from Tokyo

Just like the last newsletter, this one is also very heavily photo weighted. A set of images that was inspired by a little Showa museum we visited during the recent eight-day Winter Scenery and Old School Streets workshop that my good friend Giovanni and I organised and ran. A natural extension in many ways of my regular Tokyo and Osaka Photowalk Tours.

A much larger selection of shots from the trip can be seen here, which include my usual street and documentary stuff, along with some rarely shown, non-urban landscapes. A trip that due to what we saw, and even more so the lovely people that joined us, was an absolute blast from start to finish. An outing that we will definitely run again next year, so if you are interested, I’ll post the details once they go live.

And now, back to the main topic.

Post-war looks and nostalgia

Dating from 1926 to 1989 (marking the reign of Emperor Hirohito), the Showa era holds a special place in the hearts of many Japanese. Mine too, as despite not growing up in Tokyo, or actually experiencing any of those years here, the look and feel of so many places from the post-war period in particular simply have something special about them.

Peak Showa era

The peak period, in regards cultural significance and general aesthetics, is probably from the mid-1950s through to the 70s. Now though, those heady days of financial growth, along with an incredibly appealing mix of tradition and modernity, are rapidly fading. The economic miracle that fuelled Japan burst a long time ago, and add to that changing tourism trends, urban migration, plus a rapidly shrinking population, and it’s no surprise that a lot of the buildings from that period have either been demolished, or now lie decaying and abandoned. Relics of a different time, and yet even in silence, they somehow still seem to speak, quietly whispering little snippets of stories that we’ll never actually know.

That last photo with its Good Life poster and stark, abandoned surroundings always gets me. A room I’ve visited quite a few times now, and it hits home every single time, so it definitely seemed like the best image to end with. One that also wraps up another newsletter.

Thanks as always for reading this far, and please spread the word if you enjoy these monthly updates.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from Tokyo

This month’s newsletter is very heavily image weighted — an offering that was inspired by the final photograph. A rare city skyline shot that got me thinking about all the time spent in the streets below, along with the photos I’ve taken there. Several of which have happily become all time faves.

Some print news first

Before the bulk of the photos and some thoughts on Shinjuku itself, I just wanted to mention that the subway scene above is now available as a print. There’s a new, three photo set documenting one of Shinjuku’s most photogenic bars too. Those, and the other Shinjuku shots in my shop will be $20 off until the end of the month (just add the code SHINJUKU at check out), with all orders in February also including a free postcard sized print from this newsletter’s collection.

A different city and yet somehow still the same one

So, Shinjuku then. Just like the rest of Tokyo, it has changed enormously over the last decade or so. Well, it has in regards looks, and yet in many ways it somehow still seems more or less the same. Something I’ve spent the last week or so trying to figure out.

When there’s no soul there’s no change

In older parts of the city, the constant demolition and new developments feel like they are ripping the soul out of an area, but in Shinjuku, there’s arguably never been any kind of soul to begin with. And that’s not meant as a criticism. Instead, it’s a place to drink, shop and indulge yourself in any way you see fit. All of which make for a location that is busy, brash and often full of surprises. None of which has really altered, giving the place a sense of continuity that the changing skyline and mass tourism do little to disrupt.

The end of eccentricity?

Perhaps the only real difference I’ve noticed is a decidedly sad decline in eccentricity. It never seemed that unusual in Shinjuku to see someone who lived their public life very much on their own terms, regardless of societal norms and expectations. Brave individuals who could make your day by simply being themselves. A few of whom I’ve included here.

Of course the drop in such sightings could just be timing, but it somehow feels more than that. More than just a Shinjuku thing too. Instead, it seems far more like changing times than a changing location. Either way though, they are very much missed.

Thoughts and photos that hopefully do at least some justice to such a fascinating part of Tokyo. An area I have an enduring soft spot for, so hopefully this collection will continue to grow.

All of which wraps up another newsletter. Thanks as always for reading this far, and please spread the word if you like these monthly updates.

Cheers

Lee

Hello and Happy New Year from Tokyo.

While away near Mt. Fuji over Christmas, the weather meant we didn’t get chance to see the famous mountain, but we did experience a few snow flurries. An unexpected extra that reminded me of a new year trip several years ago.

So, in this unusually timely edition, I thought I’d get 2026 going with some of those images, along with several of suburban Tokyo in similar conditions. Plus, as an added bonus of sorts, a group of frozen and frowning ultra-nationalists.

Snow country

In the capital, a relatively small amount of snow can cause huge disruption. Travel to other parts of the country, however, and life goes on pretty much as normal, with the baltic conditions simply a part of everyday life.

Barely visible Shirakawa-go in a blizzard

Scenic Shirakawa-go is a popular spot for its traditional homes and striking vista, but on the day we visited there was a blizzard, massively reducing visibility, as well as having a similar impact on the number of visitors. All of which meant there were nice, atmospherically empty scenes to match the not so nice conditions.

Suburban Tokyo in the snow

From monochrome back to colour, and a UNESCO site to simply suburban, these are some lesser seen parts of Tokyo in even lesser seen conditions.

Ultra-nationalists on National Foundation Day

And finally, with Japan shifting further to the right under the new Takaichi government, along with the Sanseito party gaining seats and attracting younger voters with their anti-immigrant, ‘Japanese first’ message, here are some sadly relevant ultra-nationalists at Yasukuni shrine on National Foundation Day.

It was a completely chance encounter that coincided with a brief, but perfectly timed bit of snow. A motley gathering I’ve been back to see pretty much every year since these photos were taken in 2011, but visually at least, none of those visits have matched this one.

One last place for my winter workshop

Before I wrap things up, a late cancellation has opened up one spot on the Winter Scenery and Old School Streets workshop my friend Giovanni and I are running in February. An 8-day trip that also includes Gokayama, which has similar, but less well known villages like Shirakawa-go featured above. If you are interested, the relevant info is here.

And that then was my first effort of 2026.

Speak to you in the next one.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from Tokyo. In this edition I’ll do something a bit different, and, as the title suggests, talk about how a few of my favourite photographs came into being.

Autumn, at long last

First though, after a long and brutally hot summer, autumn has finally arrived in the Japanese capital, so here are a few somewhat unconventional photos from past seasons. Locations that span the city’s eastern areas to its mountainous far west.

A chance encounter on a regular walk

Going back to the main subject, I recently re-posted the full set of photos from the encounter below, as the building is being renovated and I got one last shot of the now empty interior. The images are here if you are interested. There’s a write-up too, as it turned out to be memorable for way more than just the portraits.

Taken back in 2014, the former business and home is in one of my most visited old areas, meaning I’d walked by, or at least very near, more times than I’d care to remember. Never before though had I seen the shutters open. And on that day, nearing the corner just before it, I debated whether to go left or right. The former won out, and upon turning I saw two hands under the shutters.

Those hands seemed like a potentially interesting shot, so I lifted the camera and, just as I was about to press the shutter, the lady’s face appeared. A scene that I immediately knew would most definitely make for an interesting image.

I still think back to that split-second moment each and every time I’m in the neighbourhood. If I’d turned right instead of left, I’d have been utterly oblivious to it. Similarly, the timing was perfect. Even just seconds before or after, and likewise, I would have missed it. The true randomness of street photography in all its uncontrollable glory.

Of course, not meeting the lady could have resulted in some other encounter. Maybe something even more memorable. That will never be known. But what I do know is that I’m very glad I did see her.

Miles of walking made worthwhile in one brief moment

The way this photo came about was similar.

I’d walked miles, but nothing had really worked, and it felt like just one of those days. That isn’t unusual, and I’d been out and exercised, so it was hardly the end of the world.

Arriving in Shinjuku, and fairly near the station that’d take me home, I did think of calling it quits and getting the train back. It was still fairly early though, so I decided to drop by a little exhibition I’d seen online, and then take it from there.

The exhibition, it turned out, really wasn’t my thing, so that extra disappointment made up my mind. It was the train back. But then, on my way to the station, I saw the old lady waiting to cross the road.

The trouble was, it was Shinjuku, on a Saturday afternoon, so the streets were busy to say the least. Plus, when the traffic lights changed, there were too many people to get a clear view of her. There were also waiting cars which I found way too distracting. However, on the other side of the road, a gap opened up and I got the briefest of chances for one shot. The shot as it turned out.

All those hours of walking, along with a day’s decisions and detours, had somehow, in some way, led me to that location at that exact time. And after all that, the moment was done and dusted in a fraction of a second. One seven-hundred-and-fiftieth of a second to be precise.

The benefit of repeat visits

Those chance encounters which result in a single photo that works incredibly well, or better still hints at so much, are wonderful, but despite always hoping for one, they are few and far between.

Also, while a picture is worth a thousand words and all that, for a good few years now, I’ve preferred to put sets of images together, as I feel a carefully selected series can tell more of a story. Certainly a more well rounded one anyway. An approach that is particularly useful when dealing with the passage of time. Like this before and after set, which is part of an ongoing project of mine

Regularly revisiting areas is one way of trying to tell such stories, and this lovely old garage is a place I often pass. It’s always a treat to see, and for a while it was even better as there was an old mini being worked on. Scenes I could never resist photographing, and on the whole I was fairly happy with the resultant images.

The details were nice and the retro vibe was great. None were super special though. Until one day the car was out front and the mechanic was working underneath it, with the colours, signage and overall balance an absolute joy. A photographic gift that I was very happy to receive, but one I like to feel was also well earned with all those visits.

And that pretty much wraps up this last newsletter of the year. Well, apart from a couple of business plugs. Something I’m still rubbish at.

I’ll put the red mini print on sale (20% off) for the whole of December. It’s here if you’d like to buy it. And if you are planning a trip to Japan, this is my photowalks page. It’d be great to show you round some of my favourite old areas. Either in Tokyo or Osaka.

Right then. Poor promotional efforts over. Enjoy the holidays, and speak to you in the next one. Next year.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from Tokyo, although that said, this month’s newsletter is solely about the country’s second city, Osaka.

On a visit last month to conduct photowalks, as well as enjoy a few days shooting for myself, I was reminded once again how much at home I feel in the old and dated areas I always stay in and frequent.

Familiar and yet really quite different

The everyday Japan I’m familiar with is still there in Osaka, and yet at the same time, it also feels quite different. A look and vibe that is truly distinct. On top of that, the people I encounter are, on the whole, far more open and friendly when compared to their Tokyo counterparts.

An old market area like no other

It’s hard to accurately describe Tsuruhashi market, but the best I can come up with is a gloriously heady mix of Tokyo’s now demolished Tsukiji fish market, and the capital’s old, former black market neighbourhood of Ueno. A wonderful combination that for me at least makes it a location to marvel at and thoroughly enjoy.

Mostly under cover, the lighting only adds to the atmosphere, with a real grittiness to much of the area. Then there’s the location’s post-war beginnings that are there for all to see in the old signs and dated facades.

Tsuruhashi’s labyrinthian nature means it’s easy to get lost, but that’s a similarity big part of the experience, as there is always something to appreciate round the next corner. All of which make for a down to earth sensory overload in the best possible way.

The lost in time world of Nishinari ward

One of the poorest neighbourhoods in Japan, and home to a large day labouring population, Nishinari ward in some parts is a genuinely stark reminder that just like so many other countries, extreme poverty is a problem Japan has also failed to deal with.

However, away from the main day labouring area, the dated shopping arcades and low rise streets have more of a down at heel, distinctly blue collar vibe. Long, covered and shuttered locations where time has mostly stood still, making them similar to some of my favourite old area’s in Tokyo, and throughout Japan in general.

Nishinari though has an appearance all its own. It’s also on a much bigger scale, allowing for days of wandering and exploration. Needless to say just like the capital, it is changing, with old buildings being pulled down and new ones popping up, but the pace is mercifully slower, with far more of the past remaining intact.

Openness, honesty and a distinct lack of pretence

Along with the visual differences, the atmosphere of the area also has a unique feel, most of which is down to its inhabitants. Many of the them don’t have a lot, but their openness, along with a complete lack of pretence, makes for a refreshing change when compared to public life in the capital. As such, people are far more ready with a smile, and the same goes for impromptu conversations and general greetings. Elements that when put together mean I always enjoy visiting, and in all honesty, I never really want to leave when it’s time to return to Tokyo.

See this side of Osaka with your own eyes

Hopefully the photos do at least some justice to what I’ve written. Sights are one thing, but an area’s atmosphere is a trickier beast to capture. Still, if you’d like to spend a few days seeing and photographing Osaka on a Photowalk Tour, my booking info page for Tokyo doubles up for Osaka as well, and there’s a write-up and review here.

All of which wraps up this month’s offering. I hope these newsletters are proving interesting, and if you have anything in particular you’d like me to cover, please do let me know.

Speak to you in December.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from a mercifully cooler Tokyo, where the truly intense summer heat and humidity have finally abated, which means my Tokyo Photowalk Tours are in full swing once again. That said, this month’s offering was inspired by a welcome evening in an old school bar (izakaya) after a long and brutally hot day spent exploring some new locations just north of the capital.

Famous food and infamously long lines

Japan in general, and perhaps Tokyo more specifically, are well known for Michelin starred restaurants, along with top-rated eateries for the likes of sushi and ramen. Establishments that not surprisingly require reservations planned well in advance, or possibly even worse, the patience of a saint, as the queues on any given day will always be more substantial than the food on offer.

However, in complete contrast to such places, are the country’s old, local and invariably very small izakaya. Tiny retreats that arguably offer a far more authentic, ahem, taste of real Japanese life.

Grilled food and down-to-earth good times

Entering such bars can be more than a little intimidating. Even now, after all these years, sliding open a door to a completely unknown interior is something I invariably do with a good deal of trepidation.

The effort though is almost always worth it, and if everything aligns, the owner will be getting on in years, the decor will be similarly aged, and last but not least, general cleanliness will be of little concern. All of which create an atmosphere like no other. In many ways something very similar to the machi chuka restaurants mentioned in my July newsletter.

The atmosphere and looks of a long past era

It really is no exaggeration to say it’s like stepping back into a different era, with the walls and proprietors full of stories and past lives.

Little spaces where time has stood still, and with no need for any of the forced decorum deemed necessary in those aforementioned and more famous locations, they feel like a home from home. An escape from the modern world where you can have some decent food and drink, while at the same time feeling that somehow, in some way, you briefly at least fully belong.

Here now but quite possibly gone tomorrow

The advanced age of many of the owners, plus the constant changes Tokyo in particular is going through, does mean that many are on borrowed time, and the ones below are some I’ve been to that I know for sure no longer exist. Sad losses, and the likes of which we’ll probably never see again.

Photographing in such intimate spaces

Lastly, photographing in such small places can be tricky, but while I always have my camera ready and hanging by my side, I generally don’t even touch it until the surprise of my presence has died down, because as a very obvious foreigner, I don’t exactly blend in.

Even then, I’ll have some food and a beer. Likely another one of the latter. And then, with nobody the slightest bit bothered anymore, and ideally having had a chat with owner, I’ll try and get a few photos. Some shot discreetly. Others more openly. It all depends on the vibe, along with the kind of images I’d like to get. An approach that up to now at least has always worked well. Plus even if the photos don’t come out as planned, I’ll have enjoyed a fun evening anyway.

A couple of favourites as prints

Many of the photos above are favourites both for the resultant image and the memories associated with them, but these two I’m attached to primarily because of how they look, so both will be 20% off until the end of October. There’s a link to my print shop here if you are interested.

All of which wraps up this month’s newsletter. As always, thanks ever so much for reading this far, and speak to you in the next one.

Cheers

Lee

Hello again from Tokyo.

As I begin to put this together, the city is once again enduring a brutally hot week in the middle of an already blistering time of year. A season that somehow never fails to surprise, as no matter how long I live here, the oppressive, almost oven-like atmosphere always comes as a shock.

A summer trip to central Japan

All that said, after returning from a UK visit at the end of July, I made a short trip out to central Japan. A mistake in one sense as it turned out to be even toastier than Tokyo, but at the same time, it did offer a lot photographically. There was an overgrown street of abandoned pre-war row houses, a quiet old town with a beautifully tiled and long unused public bath, plus a whole host of faded scenes and dated environments.

All of which got me thinking, and provided the theme for this edition of the newsletter.

Slowly disappearing Japanese towns and cities

When travelling outside Japan’s main cities and popular tourist hubs, the sights shown here — which I’ve separated into specific locations — are very much the norm rather than the exception.

Countless locations that are well past both their population and financial peaks, with the only realistic future being a long and slow decline, ultimately resulting in more and more shops and structures being shuttered up or abandoned.

Admittedly it’s a situation that isn’t unique to Japan, but the sheer scale of of it, along with a rapidly shrinking population, does make one wonder what will become of large swathes of the country in decades to come.

Of course immigration is one possibility, and the number of foreign residents has visibly grown. The likes of demolition crews are invariably foreign these days, and most convenience store staff are non-Japanese.

The numbers though are still comparatively low (3% of the population), and there really isn’t an appetite for it. Increasingly there’s push back and bad press in relation to mass tourism, and then there’s the recent electoral gains of Sanseito with their Japan First agenda. A far right anti-foreigner party in an already very conservative political system.

Regeneration and relocation incentives are also options, but as these photos suggest, most places are, from a financial point at least, already long past the tipping point of being resuscitated.

Dated and decaying tourist spots

Ironically, despite the massive increase of foreign visitors, many of japan’s old and more traditional holiday spots are in a similarly sorry state, with the bursting of the bubble and changing trends setting them into a seemingly irreversible decline. A vicious circle of dated spaces without the funds to modernise, resulting in increasingly less desirable accommodation and a further dwindling of visitor numbers.

Whether any of this can or will be halted remains to be seen, and for now at least, the government doesn’t seem to have any real answers. And yet despite, or perhaps because of, the obvious melancholic vibe such places possess, they are truly fascinating locations to stay in, explore and photograph.

All of which were my thoughts along with the included photos from just a small selection of the cities, towns and old tourist spots I’ve visited over the years. And fingers crossed I’ll have the chance to visit many more in the future, although ideally not in the months of July and August.

Print sales

Ruminations that pretty much wrap up this summer edition of the newsletter, but as such places have, to me at least, an unconventional beauty all their own, I’m going to offer two of my favourite shots from above as prints — the ones up top featuring those iconic Japanese taxis. Both of which will be 20% off for the whole of September. The print featuring the white cab is here, and this is the orange one.

Thanks as always for subscribing, and for reading this far.

Cheers

Lee

Before the photography stuff, I’d just like to say thank you for the lovely messages I received after last month’s newsletter. Words that definitely helped me feel I’m on the right track in regards content and format. Really good to know.

Overgrown Tokyo

Early last month I put together a post of overgrown urban scenes. All of them from Tokyo. Wonderfully colourful frames that despite Japan’s love of concrete, are mercifully not that uncommon. You can see them here, and as a companion piece of sorts, below is a small series of similarly verdant finds from over the years.

These are also from the capital. Well, most of them are anyway, except the last photo, an abandoned train station in Hokkaido. Oh, and also the first one, although for the life of me I can’t remember its location. The only definite being it was taken in 2017.

Disappearing buildings — British edition

The photos below are also blessed with abundant greenery, as well as having a connection with the last newsletter, when I mentioned my attempts at being more zen in relation to disappearing old buildings.

They were taken a few summers ago in Greater Manchester where I grew up. Goodness knows how long the house and factory had been there, but countless decades for sure. And yet returning last month, I discovered they too have gone. Structures I now feel even more fortunate to have photographed.

Japan old school streets and winter landscape workshop

From the lush greens of summer, it’s a rather stark transition to the crisp blue skies and snow covered landscapes of Japan, as early next year, my good friend Giovanni and I will be conducting an 8 day workshop covering old, local Tokyo streets, stunning winter landscapes, plus more urban scenery at the end in the dated markets and gritty arcades of Osaka.

A unique experience offering two photographers, and two perspectives, with the emphasis on storytelling — the variety of what we’ll see and shoot providing a creativity-based Japan trip like no other.

The details are here should you be interested, and below are some of my street photos covering the urban locations we’ll visit, along with several of Giovanni’s landscapes from the countryside leg of the trip.

Which camera should I buy?

Lastly, and certainly related, is a question I often get asked by customers on my photowalk tours:

Which camera should I buy if I upgrade?

I use a Leica M which is definitely not for everyone. In fact it isn’t for most people. Something I may expand on in the future. But very briefly, it’s a camera that for me at least feels completely natural to use and hold. And in a time when all manufacturers are producing top quality kit, I genuinely believe that so long as the camera has the basic functions the user requires, then the small black box that feels good and right to hold is more than likely the right one to buy, as it’ll be the one that’ll provides the biggest daily incentive to go out and shoot.

All of which wraps up this August edition. Thanks for reading this far.

Cheers

Lee

A now no more takeout yakitori shop

Welcome back to my newsletter, and thanks ever so much for subscribing. With this still being a new endeavour, I’m in the process of trying to find the right style and tone, so until I get there, I hope you’ll continue to join me on the journey.

Old Tokyo bookshop

The temperatures really picked up in Tokyo around the middle of June, but before it got unbearably hot, I made a trip out to the far west of the city to once again photograph this stunning old bookshop. Trouble is it wasn’t there anymore, as it turns out it was demolished 18 months or so ago.

Old Tokyo bookshop

There’s a full write-up here, but the woman who lives opposite told me she now has a lovely view of the mountains. Scenery she enjoys every single day. Words that helped reinforce a mindset I’ve been trying to adopt in such situations for quite some time now.

New horizons

Learning to be more zen

With so many old, Showa-era structures being demolished in Tokyo, it can get more than a little disheartening, but my aim over the last few years has, for want of a better description, to be more zen about it.

The Japanese capital has always been a city of change and regeneration, but at the same time I’m in the fortunate position of being able to experience and photograph places like the bookshop (and the yakitori take-out shop at the top of the page) before they get torn down. Something I’m learning to be thankful for instead of feeling disappointed by yet another disappearance.

The comfort of machi chuka restaurants

With that in mind then, this is a little series of machi chuka eateries.

They are a type of local, Japanese-style Chinese restaurant that were ubiquitous in the post-war period, but with the owners of such places invariably getting on in years, their numbers are declining. In fact quite a few of these no longer exist.

The memories of them, on the other hand, remain warm and comforting, just like the food served. Feelings that don’t fully mitigate the loss, but similar to the lady with her new view, they do help ease the disappointment.

All of which has made me crave my go-to machi chuka order of fried rice and gyoza. Simple food best enjoyed in such simple, unpretentious places.

Photowalks, prints and books

Lastly, for most of July I’ll be in Britain visiting family, so any print or book orders will be shipped as soon as I get back to Tokyo at the end of July.

I will, however, have full access to email, so I can quickly reply to any photowalk enquiries, and I’ll be available to conduct those again from August onwards.

Thanks again for being a part of this.

Cheers

Lee

Homeward Bound

Hello and welcome to my new newsletter. A platform that will hopefully allow me to share thoughts on photography and Japan, along with extracts and added extras from various posts and photo series.

Currently, the plan is for monthly updates, although if it goes well, and there’s an interest, I may increase that to twice a month. We shall see.

Recent Photowalks

The opening image is one from this recent local walk series. A fabulous old building that I’d tried to photograph numerous times, but the light was never quite right. This time it was suitably soft, and even better, the little fella walking by on his way home from school made the scene far more interesting than it would have been without him.

Something similar also happened on my way to shoot a long-abandoned pachinko parlour the other week. I opted to walk the near 30km round trip instead of hiring a car — the idea being that I’d hopefully encounter plenty of photogenic stuff along the way. It was also the perfect time of year to try, as there was plenty of greenery without the soon to appear summer heat and humidity.

Sadly there actually wasn’t a huge amount to see, but this old woman peering over a hedge made the effort more than worthwhile. A single moment is all it really takes. Something I need to remember when planning future outings.

Greenery

Back To Film Photography

Finally, ages ago I picked up a cheap point and shoot film camera, with the idea being to take extra photos now and again, as the look of film works well with a lot of what I shoot. The trouble is, I often forget to take the camera with me, and just as absentmindedly forget to use it when it’s actually in my bag, meaning a couple of rolls took what felt like an eternity to finish. Still, finish them I eventually did.

Unfortunately, when I got the scans back, it turns out the camera’s exposure meter is absolutely rubbish, along with added light leaks for increased, ahem, character. Both drawbacks are far from ideal, but I did salvage a few images. Sort of.

Batteries

Orange

Hello?

Despite results not being the best, I still thoroughly enjoyed the process. With that in mind then, I plan to get another (properly functioning) point and shoot. One that I intend to take out more, and remember to use as much as possible. So all being well there’ll be more, and ideally better quality film photos to come.

Old Tokyo Print Sale

All of which wraps up my first newsletter. Thanks ever so much for reading this far, and if it was interesting, for subscribing to future editions. As such, I’d like to offer 20% off all the prints in my store ‘til the end of June. Just add the code ‘NEWSLETTER’ and the discount will be applied. And should there be another photo you’d like as a print instead, just let me know and I can do it for the same sale price.

Thanks again and speak soon.

Cheers

Lee