Photos from a barstool.

Smokey bars in Shinjuku make for cool conversations and groovy imagery.

My pal Yusuke had a photography exhibition in Shinjuku this past week, and I decided to head over. It was a Friday evening, and the area was lit in more ways than one.

I have the journey from my apartment down pat, so when I make my exit from the subway station, I’m dumped right out into the area I want to be in. Part of what goes on inside my head is whether or not it’s cold, hot, or busy when I get above ground. Shinjuku on a Friday? I don’t want to be amidst the post-work-hour craze that’s on the east side of that ’hood. Regardless, I knew the bar I was headed to was going to be full. Full of what? Creative people that I like being surrounded by. The conversations always flow in directions that are entertaining—mostly lifestyle stuff with a few sprinkles of photography gear in there (which I’m all for).

I used to smoke fifteen years ago, and now it’s tough to be around the cancerous exhaust that so many people create and put out. Nevertheless, I drink my beer and know that when I get home, a shower is going to rinse all that stench off of me. My clothes? Sometimes washed. Sometimes hung.

The bar was packed! Yusuke has some amazing work. He documents life in Kabukicho, mostly, and he uses his camera to capture many things the ordinary tourist, let alone resident, really doesn’t see.

I was able to check out a few photobooks that some friends were looking through and that were on the bar, and the images inside really evoked a sense of sadness, disillusioned cheer, recklessness, and hope that’s probably long forgotten. In other words, brilliant scenes photographed on black & white film.

As I stood at the window, looking down from Bar Shikatanai ne onto Shinjuku san-chome, I didn’t think about the Toyoko Kids, drunk salarymen on the street below, the smoke in the air, or the commute home alongside tens of thousands of folks who had similar outings as me. I just thought about how my photos were going to look groovy.

Shinjuku is a beast. It’s a monster that I can call my friend, mostly because it’s always filled with scenes that make me want to photograph it without regret. The colors are vibrant, the smells deliver a multitude of eyebrow-raising moments, the diversity of people makes it a great place to encounter friends old and new, and to possibly make something interesting, like a photo or four.