There shall be a legacy

Some words about the Paralympics

Sunday, September 6, 2020, 20:00 - 23:00 (JST), Japan National Stadium, Tōkyō, Japan. Closing Ceremony, the XVI Summer Paralympic Games. Having welcomed 378 athletes from 21 countries who competed in 9 sports in 1964, Tōkyō should at this moment be the first city that hosted the Summer Paralympic Games twice. 

Founded in 1948 by German neuro-scientist Sir Ludwig Guttmann at Stoke Mandeville Hospital in Great Britain, the Paralympic Movement originally focused on the rehabilitation of injured World War II veterans. The day of the Opening Ceremony of the London 1948 Olympic Games, he organised the first competition for wheelchair athletes which he named the Stoke Mandeville Games. Though it was only in 1960 that the first official Paralympic Games were held in Rome, Italy. Since then, the Games have taken place every four years and are today recognised as the world’s third-largest sporting event. Alike the Olympics, the Paralympics have progressively been growing in size. For 2020, Tōkyō was expecting around 4,350 Paralympic athletes from over 165 countries; 22 sports should have been carried out at 21 venues.

The Paralympic Games are not only a sporting event but also nowadays seen as an important opportunity to help integrate people with impairments into society. In the run-up to the 2020 Games, the Tōkyō Organising Committee had issued its official, some 140 pages-long Accessibility Guidelines and a 46 pages-long Handbook to Accessibility Support. I must admit that although I received these documents in English, I still haven’t made my way through the entire reading. Nevertheless, its brief review quickly clarified that what I may have considered hazardous estimations or approximative indications, actually all had been meticulously thought-out. Thus, the documents cover topics such as Pathways and Circulation Areas, Surfaces, Paving and Finishes, Entrances and Exits and provide recommendations in regard of physical and mental assistance, depending on individuals’ conditions. 

Notably since the implementation of the Law for Promoting Easily Accessible Public Transportation Infrastructure for the Elderly and Disabled Persons (Transportation Barrier-Free Law) in 2000, a large number of Tōkyō’s train stations have been transformed. In 2003, 67,2% were wheelchair accessible, which signifies 312 out of the by then 464 existing stations. In 2016, the number was increased to 95,8%, meaning 458 out of 479 stations. At around the same period of time, other world cities such as Paris (3% !), New York (about 10%) or London (18%), showed remarkably lower rates. However, Tōkyō’s ambition was to reach a 100% mark until summer 2020. Schools, apartment buildings, stores, hotels and various facilities were also refurbished in view of the Games. In the Japanese capital, many guest rooms are small and narrow, and with the expected arrival of not only Paralympic athletes, supposed to be housed at the Athletes Village, but also an important number of visitors with impairments, organisers where aware of a possible shortage of adapted accommodations. 

I am not much of an expert, and I may preferably leave the details to some esteemed research acquaintances who have more knowledge about the Paralympics than me. Though from my experience, I can affirm that Tōkyō has not missed any chance to highlight its willingness to be prepared. At each venue I was shown around, the barrier-free standards were proudly presented, the taxis from the first mobility partner of the Olympic and Paralympic Movement Toyota were adapted in order to easily be accessible for people in wheelchairs and in any official speech Paralympics came obstinately together with Olympics, no matter how much it would extend its length.  

Integration of impairment – like any peculiarity which doesn’t correspond to the general norm – may related to the Japanese society though rather sound paradoxical. Well-known are the humoristic illustrations of non-fitting (oversized) foreigners, who hit their heads at entrance gates, who stick out of the crowd or whose feet overpass the mattress in guest rooms; who struggle to find any clothing or even sometimes seem too scary to be welcomed at restaurants. Difficult to imagine a change of people’s mindset and acceptance of any characteristic considered being anomalous. In world metropolises, individuals with impairments are generally a minority, however the nearly-absence in Tōkyō is striking. 

The years preceding the foreseen 2020 Games, TV shows and documentaries about the Olympics as well as the Paralympics started to gradually spread. Animation x Paralympic: Who Is Your Hero ? was launched on NHK in September 2018, training sessions of athletes and their visits at schools were filmed and diffused, Rising Phoenix was published on Netflix in summer 2020 and even the official song Tōkyō Gorin Ondo 2020 includes dance instructions for persons in wheelchairs. In order to mark the 200 days to go until the Tōkyō 2020 Paralympic Games, the International Paralympic Committee (IPC) had in autumn 2019 announced the opening of its first Paralympic Museum in the Japanese capital. Located at Coredo Muromachi Terrace in Nihombashi, and in cooperation with Mitsui Fudosan, Tōkyō aimed to operate this museum from August 25, 2020 to late September 2020. The idea of it was to give a glance of the history and growth of the Paralympic Movement and their role in improving social inclusion. With a shrinking and aging society, Japan is particularly conscious about the need to forge an easily accessible environment and hopes through the aid of the Paralympic Games to leave a tangible and intangible long-lasting legacy. 

When some weeks ago, I saw a woman with a guide dog at a subway station, I got reminded that although I have seen many barrier-free facilities and received explanation about the anticipation of various needs, I besides very few people in wheelchairs, most of whom I got to know in the context of the Paralympic Games, can hardly remember having met a person with any impairments in Tōkyō.




Moderate heat, difficult to beat

Sunday, August 9, 2020, 20:00 - 23:00 (JST), Japan National Stadium, Tōkyō, Japan. Closing Ceremony, the Games of the XXXII Olympiad. As it is the tradition and mandated by the Olympic Charter, the handover of the Olympic Flag from the current to the next host of the respective Games. From Tōkyō to Paris; from Governor Koike Yuriko, through the hands of International Olympic Committee (IOC) President Thomas Bach to the Mayor Anne Hidalgo. Though, Tōkyō 2020’s opening was not celebrated this summer, ergo its closing. 

The evening on which the Opening Ceremony of Tōkyō 2020 should have taken place, I shortly after publishing my report had a walk around the Japan National Stadium. I wished to seize the particular moment, to observe the environment and to inhale the atmosphere. I aimed to capture a few photographs, needed to reflect upon happenings and somehow wanted to pay homage to Tōkyō on my own. 

On July 24, 2020, the weather was decent, and so was it the week that followed. Certainly humid, with sporadic showers which became slightly exasperating. In return, temperatures were around 20 and 30 degrees Celsius and felt rather endurable, not to say almost comfortable. Substantial clouds pended in the sky and a fresh breeze blew along the city. By then, Tōkyō was in the ultimate state of an apparently long rainy season. After the rain, the sun will shine again, and only a week later, in the very beginning of August, the rainy season seemed to be finally over. Whereas air humidity decreased, temperatures rose, during daytime as well as at night. No longer they would fall below 20 degrees Celsius. However, they wouldn’t reach more than 34 degrees Celsius either. Oftentimes, a smooth blanked of haze covered the sky and prevented the sun to shine down on Tōkyō too intensely. Nothing like heat-waves I experienced heretofore. 

In the run-up to Tōkyō 2020, one of organiser’s major concerns was the meteorological condition. Indeed, many people, just as I, proclaimed the incongruity of holding the event in the middle of summer and called attention to the potentially unbearable heat and humidity.

Short while after the announcement in 2013 that Tōkyō would host the 2020 Olympic and Paralympic Games, the fine-tuning of existing and the development of additional plans began, which included in-depth apprehension of the climate. Two years later, in 2015, a part of Aoyama-Dōri in Tōkyō was paved with a special coating that reflects infrared rays. The results showed that the temperature of the coated road surface was 10% lower than that of the uncoated surfaces and thus, it was decided that the entire marathon route shall be coated before the beginning of the Games. Furthermore, trees along the track were not trimmed back as usual and instead, the branches were kept as long as possible to provide shade. Selected buildings along the routes were to be asked to open their air-conditioned ground floors to spectators on event days. The marathons, scheduled for August 2, 2020 and August 9, 2020, were advanced of 90 minutes, in order to begin at 6 AM. Notably after the high temperatures during the IAAF World Athletics Championship held in Doha, Qatar from September 27, 2019 to October 6, 2019 that put numerous athletes in bad condition and caused the drop out of about 40% of the runners in the women’s marathon, the IOC expressed its concerns over potential risk to the athletes’ lives. Finally, in October / early November 2019, it was announced that the marathon and walking race of Tōkyō 2020 would be relocated to Sapporo on Japan’s northern main island Hokkaido.

In the preparation, host city Tōkyō was willing to contemplate various countermeasures and reviewed a wide range of likely scenarii and circumstances. Organisers considered that many tourists may not be aware that summer in Japan is marked not only by high temperatures but also by intense humidity. Thus, overseas visitors’ journeys from airports to hotels, movements between hotels and venues and the exposure to heat at outdoor venues were carefully anticipated. In 2016, leaflets written in English language were prepared, providing information regarding the features of summer in Japan, and explaining about heat-induced illnesses, symptoms of heat illness, and what to do when these symptoms occur. The leaflets were available at several public facilities. Guidebooks in seven languages on the use of ambulances were published and a list of approximately 1,600 hospitals and clinics where visitors from abroad can receive treatment in their native language was released. 

Concerns, not only about athlete’s health and the convenience of spectators but also about working conditions had been pronounced. Therefore, it was decided that all Olympic and Paralympic staff including volunteers would receive tablets for salt supplementation, wet wipes, instant coolants and ice cream. Tōkyō 2020 umbrella hats were invented and proudly presented as part of the staff’s uniform. In cooperation with the Japan National Tourism Organisation and the Ministry of the Environment, operating systems for weather forecasts, venues specific indications and direct alerts in multiple languages via its official website as well as a mobile application were developed. With the support of 13 partners, Tōkyō 2020 launched the Tōkyō 2020 COOLING Project on June 28, 2019. The number of participating companies had risen to 24 as of November 1 the same year. In September 2019, during a test event for the canoe sprints, around 300 kilograms of artificial snow were spread over stands at the new Sea Forest Waterway in Tōkyō’s Kōtō Ward. The aim of the attempt was to see if the heat and humidity level could be lowered, yet the temperature ended up being almost identical before and afterwards. The Japan National Stadium as well as diverse other venues got equipped with features such as mist-emitters and while recent hosts had banned beverages from outside, organisers were considering to allow spectators to bring one plastic bottle of beverage or water bottle per person.

From what I heard and read, summer of 2019 in Tōkyō was tough, and this year was expected to be similar. To my embarrassment, I have to admit that I based my concerns on other people’s words and predictions and as a matter of fact, the only period of time I had never remained in Japan was precisely from the end of July to mid / late September. If I can not compare this years’ conditions to any prior, I can though say that I certainly count amongst the individuals who get particularly uncomfortable under high temperatures and intense sunshine. Having resided few times during summer in Paris (only few, because oh no, I would preferably not repeat the experience !), I know that July as well as August can be almost insupportable, especially in the central streets, not to mention the apartments, of the French capital. 

The past weeks, mornings, evenings, even days felt relatively convenient and if the Games of the XXXII Olympiad were held this summer, the weather would have been absolutely accurate. 

Tōkyō 2020 to me has become an allegory of a very vast phenomenon… Regardless the scale and the context. Often, it all comes down to be anything and other than expected.



Everyone knows something and no one knows anything

Friday July 24, 2020, 20:00 - 23:00 (JST), Japan National Stadium, Tōkyō, Japan. Opening Ceremony, the Games of the XXXII Olympiad. Athletes, organisers, media… Tens of thousands of spectators. Hundreds of millions of television viewers; Tōkyō in the spotlight. 

Tuesday, March 24, 2020. Announcement of a postponement. Less than a week later, the release of new dates, and the reset of the countdown clocks

Ever since, a bizarre confrontation. A mute dialogue between a city and an event. Question marks and curious situations. Daily reminders, ubiquitous in Tōkyō and all over Japan. Sometimes an almost ashamed lowering of the head when glances meet in front of an Olympic or Paralympic advertisement. Changing opinions, annotation and debates. Conversations, inspiration, creation, then again suspension and pondering silence. People who think to know, people who wish to know and those who may know acknowledge that they don’t know. 

When beginning to study the impact of the Olympic and Paralympic Games on host city Tōkyō, I rapidly realised how vast the phenomenon is and how many individuals are somehow concerned by it. Relatively soon, I also became conscious about the mega-event’s opacity and complexity, and it often recalls me the picture of a Rubik’s Cube. Hindsight, that it may be unattainable to catch up on all the specialised knowledge which has been acquired over years and decades.  

For the time that preparations were going on more or less as foreseen (with several incidents that I would qualify as relatively recurrent in the run-up to the Olympic and Paralympic Games), and notably since the One Year To Go, I could feel the rhythm accelerate and see the scale gradually grow. Tōkyō 2020 was following the general tendency of the modern Olympic Games by expanding in every way: include more sports, aim for more spectators, welcome more athletes who compete for higher records. Citius, Altius, Fortius. As the Games of prior Olympiads, those of Tōkyō 2020 may allegedly be the greatest ever

In the resumption of the Olympic Games of Antiquity in the modern form, founder Pierre de Coubertin saw the possibility for humanity to benefit from the fruits of various cultures while waiting to be united in a world civilisation. He believed that sports were a way to join national pride with international understanding and considered that the Games could help to strengthen peace. In order to highlight that accepting and respecting differences in race, colour, gender, sexual orientation, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth, level of ability or other status allows peace to be maintained and society to continue to develop and flourish, one of the three core concepts of Tōkyō 2020 is Unity in Diversity

During times that countries around the globe close their boarders and people are requested to refrain from gathering together, it however seems that quite much goes against these ideals. Japan aimed to attract 40 million visitors in the Olympic year, yet since April, the number of foreign travelers has consecutively fallen below 3,000 per month, which signifies a drop of about 99,9% compared to the same period in 2019. Entry bans were established, for tourists as well as for long-term residents, and when I started to (more frequently than habitually) identify myself as one of few foreigners, I recognised the restrictions’ repercussion.  

For rather long, I was convinced that the Tōkyō Games would be held as foreseen, with their beginning in summer 2020. After all, I esteemed that I had some modest knowledge of the event’s past and was conscious about the significance of a postponement or a cancellation, - logistically, politically, economically, symbolically…. After all, Tōkyō has been preparing for seven years, and if one adds the bidding period, even much longer. How should within merely several months everything suddenly be questioned ? As huge it seemed, as fragile it turned out to be. In history, there were several scandals around the Games, threats, boycotts and withdrawn bids. However, only three, respectively five Olympiads have been cancelled: one in 1916 because of World War I, and as the summer and winter event was held the same year from 1924 to 1992, two in 1940 and two in 1944, due to World War II. Although I could hardly imagine that Tōkyō 2020 would not go on as scheduled, at the time officials from several countries started to use forceful vocabulary and draw analogies, I slowly realised towards what we may be headed.

When last autumn I left for my mission which should have allowed me to accompany close-by host city Tōkyō from roughly one year before, until a month after the Paralympic event, I had vague ideas what all may happen until, and especially during summer 2020. I expected to observe the city and country getting progressively prepared, to feel energies accumulate and experience attention grow. I imagined to see people from all over the world gradually arrive. With some form of proudness, I was looking forward to welcoming dear international (research) acquaintances, most of whom I got to know thanks to Tōkyō. With some form of fear, I pictured myself in the middle of nowhere or take a back seat, elsewhere. With some form of naivety, I genuinely hoped to attend the Opening Ceremony of the Tōkyō 2020 Games at the Japan National Stadium.

To my interest, my pleasure as well as my honour, and deeply grateful to the persons who have been supporting me, I could progressively participate at event-related activities and live myself the inauguration of Olympic and Paralympic sites. Almost ironically, it was only about one month after the last New Permanent Venue was accomplished and the Tōkyō 2020 flags were hoisted, that the postponement was announced. 

Since the beginning, not only of my mission but also broadly of my project, I have been going through various scenarii though, one specific had for a long time simply not crossed my mind… The one of Tōkyō 2020 not taking place in 2020. 


Places called home & Letters for someone


Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner

Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner

Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner

Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner



Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner

Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner

Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner



Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner

Tōkyō, Japan,  2020 © Louise Claire Wagner


From Island to Island

Anything and other than expected

To some parts of Sadogashima

When years ago, I took notice of Sadogashima’s existence, I was instantly intrigued by the idea to visit there one day on my own. Though, I could not really tell why. For sure, pictures of the landscapes and the curiosity to discover the local culture played a part, howbeit Japan counts numerous astonishing places, and ultimately, I have to admit that it was above all the idea to break away which allured me as much. Indeed, I associated physical and mental distance with Sadogashima; disconnection, not with Japan, but somehow with the world. Before undertaking my journey, I had only briefly read some background information and not made any particular travel plan, as I wished to leave freedom to my own perception. However, and despite the aim to head out without any expectations, I quickly got confronted with fact that I had unconsciously and unwillingly pictured this place as well as my stay. 

Seemingly small, Sadogashima, located off Niigata, is the largest island in the Sea of Japan. Its area is approximately 855 square kilometres and its coastline stretches around 280 kilometres. The population was at about 56,000 in the end of March 2018. Although I knew about this, I still couldn’t get rid of the idea that Sadogashima had to be compact and it was only through several walking and bicycle tours, which’s distances together with the (hilly) relief put my physical capacities to the proof, that I finally started to agnise the island’s vastness. 

Excavations from ruins indicate that Sadogashima has been inhabited for about 10,000 years. It was one of Japan’s independent provinces in the Nara Period, and early designated an island of exile. Beginning in AD 722 with Hozumi Asomioyu, further exiles included figures such as the former Emperor Juntoku in 1221, the Buddhist monk Nichiren in 1271, and Zeami Motokiyo in 1434, a Noh actor and writer, all of whom expressed critical opinions about the respective then-ruler. Today, many people ascribe the miscellaneous population and the cultural richness of the island to the prior exiles. Sadogashima is also known for its gold production, and back in the days, it was notably the shōgun Tokugawa Ieyasu who promoted the development of gold and silver mines by placing them under the direct control of the Tokugawa Shōgunate. The prosperity attracted diverse workers and resulted in a rapid rise of the island’s population, which reached a peak of 125,597 in 1950. The mines were operated from 1601 until 1974 and definitely closed in 1989. With a remarkably rich, diverse and well-preserved environment, Sadogashima was the last natural habitat of the internationally protected wild Japanese Crested Ibis (Toki) which became endangered and went extinct in 2003. However, artificial insemination started in 1999 and after 2000, baby birds were raised with increasing success and released back into nature. Today, the main industries on the island are agriculture and fishing, and although for me everywhere on the archipelago fish and seafood has so far been delicious, the incredible freshness and quality of Sadogashima’s catch (combined with a glass of local sake) was so tasty that I had to enjoy it for every single dinner.

When some weeks ago, I boarded the ferry that brings one within two and a half hours from Niigata Terminal to Sadogashima Ryōtsu Port, I immediately was captivated by the particular atmosphere and intrigued by some other passengers. There were few people; a group carrying music instruments, some families, a young couple with camping equipment; a couple with numerous stuffed manga characters (that got carefully installed along one of the ferry’s windows), as well as several dispatched individuals whose actions did occur rather incomprehensible to me… But this was only the beginning of my reflection upon the island’s curious population.

The accommodation I stayed at disposed a very small number of rooms, some shared facilities including a charming and neat salon and kitchen, and (just as I had pictured !) a large terrace with ocean view. There I was, the sea in front of my eyes, fairly disconnected, and incredibly happy. 

At my arrival, most of the other rooms were occupied by a Japanese three-generation family who enjoyed dinner at the first floor-situated gourmet restaurant. Besides some words and friendly gestures, we did not further communicate though. 

The following day, after returning from a long trip to the very south of the island, I met two young women who had planned to eat downstairs the accommodation and stay overnight. When they told me that they both lived on Sadogashima, and one of them only few minutes away from the accommodation, I was rather surprised and wondered why they would book a room although they could practically walk home. Anyway, I didn’t want to be unpolite or intrusive and therefore just imagined possible reasons. As they proposed, I joined them later for some delicious fish, seafood and sake at a nearby izakaya. We shared very pleasant moments, and I ended up being kindly invited to have lunch with them the next day. 

No sooner said than done, we were headed to a local restaurant. When in the end of the lunch, one of the staff pulled down her mask, smiled, and asked me if I remembered her, I was rather perplex: it was the middle-generation mother who stayed at the same accommodation as me two nights before. The girls explained that her family owned the restaurant we had lunch at and that she lived nearby. 

The same evening, I crossed paths with three older women, who were calmly sharing some citrus fruits in the common living room. Although already tired, I could not decline their invitation to join for a little talk. When they told me that they just finished dinner at the restaurant downstairs, that they would stay for a night at the accommodation, yet that they all lived on the island, I started to really wonder about Sadogashima’s curious inhabitants, their tendency to eat out during the week and their way to treat themselves by combining gastronomic pleasure with an overnight stay. 

The last day before heading back to Tōkyō, I had a pleasant conversation with the proprietor of the accommodation, who generously gave me a voucher for a future stay. When I told him about my amazing yet peculiar experience with all the locals, he mentioned that this may not happen a next time and finally unveiled the secret: because of COVID-19, Sadogashima had launched a campaign upon its inhabitants, in order to stimulate the tourist industry and local economy. 

As mysterious it seemed, as simple it was. I had to smile. About the situation and about myself. About how we imagine things if we don’t know and don’t ask. About the curiosity of life, and the beauty of the unpredictable… Had I maybe imagined myself alone on a deserted island or amidst some stranded tourists, but hardly surrounded by these nice new acquaintances. 

I would be lying if I said that it was love at first sight, and Sadogashima probably counts amongst the places which require not only time but also an open mindset in order to be enjoyed. Nevertheless, its particular atmosphere, the pureness of nature and honesty of people caught me, and it was with a nostalgic feeling that I left the island behind. When on the way back I found myself all alone on the large deck of the ferry towards Niigata, I had surprising sensations, feelings of energy and enthusiasm, and finally understood why I had been intrigued by Sadogashima for so long. Very differently than expected, it seemed that I precisely found what I had hoped for.


Addendum

Certainly, there are many more aspects of the island that I could and should discover, but this shall remain for the future. Now I know some locals I sincerely wish to meet one day again, and not to forget, I still have my voucher.

{Quarter past four, twilight clouds penetrate the lace fabric}


Reportage Chocolat!

Urbanisme olympique /  interview in French about urban transformation in the context of the Olympic and Paralympic Games 

https://vimeo.com/417963049/00c7595feb


Merci à Chocolat! de m’avoir accordée une place au sein de l’émission de ce mois-ci !                                                                         Thank you Chocolat! for letting me be part of this month’s programme !

https://fr-chocolat.com/podcast/2020-2/item/1747-2020-juillethttps://fr-chocolat.com/


From Island to Island

Anything and other than expected


Rise


Inside a Pond {1, 2, 3 & Hiatus}


On the Edge {1, 2, 3 & Hiatus}


Upon the Sea of Japan {1, 2, 3 & Hiatus}


Along Rice Fields {1, 2, 3 & Hiatus}


Turn Back {1, 2, 3 & Leave behind}


Succession_Big World outside {like your last day under the sun}

                                                                                                                                                                                             | Japan | June 2020 |


{Caption, June 2020}


When I close my eyes, I can feel the light.  

I can hear the sounds, gently fading. 

Softly falling, then entrusting. 

Whiteness behind. The sky, beyond.

What remains, is peaceful silence.


Unravel the Enigma

Frozen. Personal word about the thawing process

Tōkyō, Monday June 8, 2020, 4:24 a.m. Sunrise and birdsong. A smooth breeze. Light, softly entering the room. Awakening in my cherished Paradise.

Early morning hours during summer season have inspired me since the first time I visited Japan. The forthright sunshine, the glow in the air. The relatively decent temperatures prior to an intensely hot and humid day. The peaceful atmosphere when Tōkyō Metropolis slowly gets up. Like a child that impatiently awaits Christmas, I removed my curtains a while ago, enthusiastic to daily experience the sunrise. The plan was to smoothly be woken up by the natural light, whilst slumberously continue to vague in my dreams. However, my thoughts and preoccupations soon inhibited this idyllic picture.

Unpredictability does in general not make me feel particularly uncomfortable (in some curious way, Japan’s frequent earthquakes are for me an honest reminder that many phenomena are out of human control) and putting to sea without knowing the destination makes me rather inspired than worried. Nevertheless, just as assumingly for every individual, there is ebb and flow. There can be storms and waves, doubts and hesitations, and I can not deny that the postponement of the Tōkyō 2020 Olympic and Paralympic Games eventually made the boat sway. Since the announcement in the end of last March, I occasionally feel like one of the Tōkyō 2020 flags or posters that hang around the city. Then again, like one of the lonesome festival tents at the Ariake Urban Sports Park. Remaining here, calmly awaiting. For all the involved, the common mission and aimed peak in summer has been removed from this year’s agenda, and one’s tolerance of ambiguity seems to constantly be put to the proof. Contradictory to the rapidly increasing temperatures, it felt as if in spring everything was suddenly frozen.

When these days I observe myself continuing my work or sharing my writings, I unwittingly recall the situation of the (in one of my recent reports described) customer who purchased articles at the Tōkyō 2020 fan shop inside BicCamera Akasaka-Mitsuke. Opposing our two pictures makes me smile about myself and think has she not realised yet that the Olympics are postponed, is she stubbornly holding on a research plan that assuredly has to be modified, or is she expecting a wonder to happen ?

At the time that the postponement of Tōkyō 2020 was announced, the question whether or not, and in which form I may continue my reports did naturally occur. Rather than about the topics, I was though mainly concerned if the audience may lose interest in their reading, e’en find them intrusive or incongruous. I was conscious that general interest in the Games as well as in my work may decrease in the aftermath of the decision, and the fact that indeed only few days after the announcement of the postponement an editor working for a foreign journal asked to be withdrawn from my mailing list was not very reassuring. Notwithstanding, Tōkyō and its facilities remain ready and organisers continue their work. From the beginning, my main motivation and intention for these reports was to share my modest knowledge, my experience and perception of Tōkyō and Japan with those who may appreciate and, most importantly, enjoy them. Therefore, I decided to continue this activity, albeit I have to accept that it goes along with inner questions and possible adaptions. The past months involved long reflection and talks with various people in Japan, as well as around the world, all of which turned out to be very constructive. 

Last Monday at the awake of the day, I was once again caught up with thoughts and concerns. When I realised that I would not get any further sleep, I pulled myself together and left to the Japan National Stadium, where slightly delusional, I ended up running five rounds. Then, by curiosity, I walked one, measured and calculated the covered distance. 

With an average time of seven to eight minutes per round, (probably to the disappointment of some appreciated researcher colleagues), one thing seems certain: even if I continue my runs around the stadium, I will definitely not be accepted in any athletics team for Tōkyō 2020.


Tomorrow’s Past. A Travel in Time

Some months ago, I was introduced to 8X10 format photography and got proposed to join a darkroom in Tōkyō.

After all these years, I had almost forgotten about the smell of the chemicals, the feeling of being in a comfortable and very particular kind of shelter, where I lose track of time, and seem far away from what is happening in the world. 

The fascination of seeing an image, slowly appear…

I missed it.

From the sessions in my hometown to the ones in Japan; the smell has not changed, neither have the related feelings. 

This week, I wish to share some cyanotypes made following an 8X10 shooting along Tōkyō’s waterfront area. 

Without the received support, long ago as well as today, my artistic expression would surely not be the same. My sincere gratitude goes to the persons who hopefully recognise themselves in these lines.

Using Format