Using nature to keep cool in the summer and warm in the winter is nothing new; however, since the March 11, 2011 triple disaster Japanese have been planting green curtains.  The idea behind green curtains is that the leaves will absorb the sun’s rays, release oxygen into the air, and keep homes and offices cool.  Commonly planted vines are cucumbers, goya, and morning glory.  The climbing vines are planted in front of window that will allow air to pass through, but keep out some the harshest sun.

This was not the case with this little house in Ichikawa.  The entire home has been completely engulfed in an ivy vine that the windows have completely disappeared. The only part of the home that has not  been completely covered with vines in the front door.

I wonder if these vines really keep the home cool?  Greeny green in Ichikawa sounds pretty good to me.

It took me quite a lot to get motivated today.  I’m not sure why.  It just seemed like quite a pain to get myself to leave the comfiness of my home.  It was partially due to the weather that had turned a bit cooler in the last 12 hours that I needed to throw on a hoody to keep warm.

I finally gulped down a glass of my homemade espresso and jumped on my bicycle to the station.  I really had no destination in mind.  I just knew I didn’t want to go anywhere crowded.  I just wanted to be on the street with my camera.  I decided to keep to the Tozai line and I got off at Monzennakacho Station.  An area known for it’s large shrine and temple and back alley restaurants.

My wandering started off slowly.  I went left where everyone else went right.  It took a while to get into the rhythm of the wandering and the clicking, but it all began to sync up.  I lost track of time.  I lost track of where I was.  All I had to choose, was straight, left, or right.

The clicking became easy.  Homes angles, potted plants all lined up for my enjoyment.  The streets were for the most part empty except for the occasional housewife, and school children.

Sometimes the hardest part of a journey is just getting started; however, once started the journey is never completed.

This is a test, a surreal test of your attention.  It was a hot and humid last day of September when, Urayasu city held its annual Emergency Preparedness Drill.  The city in conjunction with Chiba Prefecture, and the National government  organized an event to inform its citizens of the facilities in what to expect in a disaster situation.

This of course takes on even deeper meanings since the March 11, 2011 earthquake that devastated Tohoku region of Japan.  Outside of the Tohoku region, Urayasu suffered the worst damage mainly due to liquefaction.

The police, military, and emergency services all had set up displays, and interactive events to help the people of Urayasu.  I am not sure if i found it comforting or disturbing.  They say (whoever they might actually be) that Japan is does more preparation than any other country in the case of disaster strikes. There are always drills, and mock events to test the readiness of the people, and its emergency services.  This is good; however, one can never fully prepare.  There is always, and most likely the chance that something will go wrong.  I do commend the patience of the Japanese people in response to the March 11th triple disasters.  I think they did a fabulous job of coming together in the hardest hit areas.

That brings me back to this surreal event unfolding before my eyes.  Seeing the water tanks that would be used, and in the case of recent events, were used.  Witnessing Disney-cutesy characters of a soldier, a police officer and an emergency worker, was truthfully made my stomach turn.

In the end I am glad I went.  It was surreal, a surreal test indeed.

On the backstreets we wander.  Looking for a place to call home.  A place that we can call our own.  Lost in the greenery as it overtakes the asphalt.

Backstreets is where I roam.

My brother and I had crossed over some railroad track in our quest to find an Indian buffet restaurant in Huntsville, Alabama the afternoon after we had driven up from Miami.  I spotted a sign that said Historic Downtown Madison.  I wanted to stop but our stomach had the better of us and we pushed on to get our fill of some curry.

On the Monday following the wedding I had to be up at 6 a.m. to get Jerry to the airport on time.  It didn’t really bother me to be up so early because the time I am allowed to spend with my family is all precious.  As I was making my way for the countless time to Huntsville International Airport, to our left and right the fields were covered in an early morning mist.  The kind of mist that just hovers a few feet above the ground.

I imagined being taken back in time to when these northern hills of Alabama, were the only occupants of the area.  Just the hills, the grass, and that early morning fog.

Since I had time before I needed to meet up with my family I took a detour back to the hotel so that I could take an early morning walk around Madison.  The construction crews were already on site as I wandered around in the pre 7 a.m. sunlight.

The light filtered in through the majestic trees among the white picket fences.  The yards and porches reminded me to slow down and appreciate the land and the people of Alabama.

I really had little expectations from Alabama.  I know that is a bit sad, but in my mind not much came to me, but I was impressed with the land.  The land spoke to me.  The small town America, that is quickly vanishing, spoke to my heart.

As I wandered around crossing over the railroad tracks I thought to myself what it must have been like to grow up here at the turn of the century.  The hard times only out scaled by the beauty of the surrounding land.

These thoughts all rushed through my head like the morning fog as it began to disperse the higher the sun rose.  Madison was a beautiful trip back to a place I had never been.  All beautiful in the 7 a.m. sunshine.

I walked those Ichikawa streets for the last time for a few months today.  The sun’s rays were growing long, and the light was just perfect.  Sometimes, I just see, and observe how quickly the light changes around this time of day.

It is around that time of day, that a few minutes, even a few seconds can make the difference between the most amazing light and just in the shadows.  I love watching those changes.  Light, and seeing light has become integral part of what makes up life.

I wonder to myself, how can people just walk by with out seeing how amazing the light is.  I know other photographers know what I am talking about.  Golden, yellow, orange, white, they are all there.  All one has to do is pause and just open your heart, and see what is happening all around you.

So, for now, I bid a sweet farewell to Ichikawa.  Goodbye!  Take care!  I will walk your streets again come April.

I seem to be a bit obsessed myself these days.  I am be drawn into the highly packed world of the Japanese home gardens.  These are not the elegant gardens that can be found in Tokyo like Rikugien Gardens in the center of Tokyo.  No, these are the tightly packed neighborhood gardens that I find on my wanderings.

These gardens sometimes occupy the smallest spaces imaginable.  The might feature a row of potted plants sitting atop a cinderblock wall.  They could also be found in the tiniest of spaces that most foreigners wouldn’t even recognize as a backyard.  However, this is where the Japanese show amazing skill in how they use what ever space they have in order to be able to bring some greenery into their lives and in those that pass by on the street.  I would argue that there is more greenery, and green spaces to be found here in Tokyo that that of New York City’s green spaces.

There is so little space, and at times the concrete, glass, and steel seem oppressive, but all I have to do is to turn a corner and find a small contemplative oasis of green.  It might only be some herbs that occupy a windowsill, but that green is better than no green at all.

The light is in a transitional phase now.  As the sun grows more distant, the temperature begins to drop the quality of the light changes.  The light of this early winter in the late afternoon shifts towards yellow.  I really am attracted to that yellowing light.  Even in the full glare of the sun colors are rich.  Hues pop out and speak to me though my senses.  Even as my throat ached I couldn’t help but reach for my Ricoh GR IV and capture some of that light.

The use of space is amazing in Japan.  The Japanese aesthetic manifests itself in sometimes the most unlikely places like small roadside gardens that are wedged into spaces that would just be discarded in other countries.  Here the space, any space, goes to some use.  I am always amazed how the zig zags of a home are often loaded with potted plants in a tightly manicured gardens.  Actually, they might not be so manicured.  Some of them go rather wild and free.  To my eye they represent the to dichotomies of Japanese aesthetics.  The reverence of nature, and the attempt to tame nature.  I see both in the way the Japanese create their personal gardens.  These are not the Japanese gardens that are listed as national treasures. They are the homeowner’s personal treasure.  A tiny space that reflects their love and interest in the natural world even if it may be surrounded by concrete and asphalt.  The flowers rise to greet the sun, and I stop and pause to admire their beauty.

The simple elegance of (your) neighbors friendly garden.

Here in Japan even the suburbs are filled with concrete and lack of space.  There seems to be no end to the ribbons of concrete and asphalt that line the streets of this country.  Even when there are parks, and green spaces they never seem that removed from all the the manmade structures that surround them.

Houses, even like these, that are more in the countryside, suburbs than where I live there is still a lack of gardenable space; therefore, the proud home owners do everything in their power to use what little space they have to both surround themselves with the colors of nature.

Someday, I will be able to have an endless garden, filled with flours and fruits of the earth, until that time, I will enjoy what others have to offer.

Making my way back to Ichikawa station today, something caught my eye on a stretch of road that never did before.  My eyes were filled with beautiful purpler drapery.  The majestic wisteria was flowing over the gates of a home on top of the hill.

The sun shone through the leaves and illuminated the violet petals.  I have always been drawn to the color purple.  I am not sure why, but I think I find that the hue soothes my troubled soul.

After a few bumpy small aftershocks right before I shut my eyes caused me to get a bit of restless sleep. I welcomed this hue into my lens and let the healing begin.

Lets allow those gleams of color to flood into our lives, and begin the healing process.

On a beautiful winter day I hopped on the train and headed for the happening spot of Harajuku.  It was a great day to be out.  The sun shone brightly as the crisp air blew around the back alleys and streets of Harajuku.  I am always amazed at how the Japanese have managed to fit so many people, stores, and streets in such chaotic order.  There is no wasted space.  Every bit of useable, and livable space has been built on.  All the pieces fit together with no margin or error just like a jigsaw puzzle.  Sometimes is seems to me that if one house was taken out of the picture, the whole neighborhood would collapse like dominoes.

The temp is on the rise as the rainy season wanes.  The mercury is hitting it’s high mark and will continue to do so as we edge closer and closer to August.  In the geometric studies I could feel the heat radiate off the corrugated siding.  Hot Hot Hot.

As I continue my pursuit of the geometrical beauty found in the Tokyo Megacity, I sometimes wonder how all these people that live literally on top of their neighbors keep their peace of mind.  I need my space, or at least a bit of solitude where I can organize and calm my thought.  I am know that behind these doors and windows the inhabitants are able to breathe a bit more freely.  It is their own personal domain.  Or in some cases it is part of a public interaction space where they can drink, eat and be merry with friends.

Doors, and windows divide us from each other, yet they are portals.  They allow, at the discretion of those involved, to pass from one side to the other.

Knock knock

rap, rap, rapping, at my window

These days I seem to be tipping my hat to the old masters with my obsession with shape and forms in my photographs.  The geometrical shapes are popping out at me from all sides of the road.  It is almost if i see the shapes first and then what they actually represent second.

I do not mind this obsession.  Only by working on the obsession can I figure out why I have become fixated on shapes.  The more I photograph and construct the images in this way, the closer I can begin to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together.

I hope I didn’t go off on too much of a tangent.

In between the daily rains of recent day I have been thinking of this verse from Isaiah 2:4.  I am sure most of you out there know it.

“and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.”

Then this item tossed aside on the edge of a pedestrian overpass I found a toy gun that has been tossed away.  Even though it is a toy gun, these so called toys breed violence into the games that children play.  It will be a beautiful tomorrow when there shall be no more metals and plastics used for destruction.

I await that day.

We all await that day.