Taking pictures (more on tourism)
▣ ▣ When I was young, there still persisted the stereotype of the Japanese tourist as constantly snapping pictures with oversized cameras. Although I don’t remember this, I suppose the idea was introduced to me by my father, when, pointing out to the Japanese on trips to Grindelwald, or Triberg, or Paris. Like many other stereotypes, it may have been true: this was in the days when the Japanese economy still propelled people out into the world to spend their inflated yen, and I suppose they would be more likely to strap a Nikon F-501 around their necks, too. And so the places most beloved by Japanese tourists were also the most photogenic. That is why they go to Yellowknife. ▣ The Japanese now stay home. They shortcircuited their economy. They don’t have the money to go anywhere. But the world replaced them. Everyone travels on the phone in their camera. They travel so that they can take new pictures. Photography on tour doesn’t only serve the purpose of burnishing our brand, but, in the moment, helps us to shape the world around us. We can only see what we can capture on a mobile phone’s digital sensor. ▣ I resent tourism. Mass tourism is demeaning to a place like this. But I am curious. I wonder what makes people come here. That is the answer: they want to make beautiful pictures. This is a way to see the world. The pictures and, then, the world around oneself can be curated, framed, composed, even filtered. Pictures make the world beautiful. ▣ At the Nezu Shrine, everywhere is deserted, except for the tori-lined walkway down its western half. Even on the day I visited, when vendors had set up stalls for the final day of a floral festival, everyone congregated on the walkway. The experience of walking through them was not particularly important. It was more important to pose in them. I watched as some young women (some were from Indonesia, others from Vietnam) shot TikTok videos of each other, or balanced their phone on some of the stonework, doing coordinated dances or rushing through the tori. Some wore costumes that seemed designed to look appealing through heavy filters on a phone screen. The way they saw the world was certainly more beautiful than the way I saw it. ▣ A-ha! But what about me, snapping pictures the whole time, too? Please forget you have noticed me. ▣ I met a young American woman in Kyoto that told me she came to Japan three or four times a year. We met because I was walking down a shopping arcade and she asked me to take a picture of her. She always traveled alone. We spoke for a while. This was years ago, before the pandemic. And we stayed in touch. The inability to come to Japan seemed to send her into a prolonged depression. When we met again a few months ago in Tokyo, I offered to take her to a private restaurant in Ginza (this sounds exclusive but isn’t). She became gloomy when I informed her that it was forbidden to take pictures. The food was good, but it wasn’t the same to experience it unedited, unfiltered, uncomposed. The dreary Ginza basement closed in around her. ▣ ▣