13dec25
TOKYO, JAPAN STREET ART: ALIEN OCTOPUS
13dec25
Category: SHIBUYA
TOKYO, JAPAN STREET ART: LOVE GATES
13dec25
TOKYO, JAPAN STREET ART: LONDON POLICE
13dec25
TOKYO, JAPAN STREET ART: PEACE ON FROG PLANET
13dec25
TOKYO, JAPAN STREET ART: STAR by FANAKAPAN
Fanakapan is a London-based street artist best known for his insanely realistic helium balloon and chrome-style murals.
TOKYO, JAPAN: THIS ONE FACE
Saturday evening train out of Shibuya, standing room only.
In the middle of all that—there’s this one face. Holding on with one hand and smiling so sweetly at his friend. Everyone else is bowed over their phones, I’m listening to one of the greatest albums from beginning to end, James’ “Laid,” with my earbuds…the perfect soundtrack for the existential burdens I’ve been carrying lately.
And here’s the part that feels particularly existential. This train car is a moving box full of parallel lives: strangers pressed shoulder to shoulder, I’m tucked into a corner, we’re all pretending not to notice each other, breathing the same air and thinking completely different thoughts. Tomorrow most of us won’t remember a single face from this ride. Except for me. His face will stay with me a while. My shutter snapped, confirming this moment happened. He was here. I was here.
29november2025
t o k y o
japan 🇯🇵
TOKYO, JAPAN: COLLECTIVE PSYCHE
Japan is more like a collective psyche than a country. A mood, a rhythm, a wavelength you either fall into or orbit around. And twenty-two years ago, I fell straight into it. I lived here, walked these streets, memorized the turns and alleys like they were part of my body. I thought coming back would be like slipping into a familiar dream—the kind where everything feels exactly as it was left.
But memory lies. Or maybe it softens the edges so much that when you return, the real thing feels almost unrecognizable.
Back then, I remember walking out of the station into quiet streets. A 7-Eleven on the left as I headed home. A few small, unassuming izakayas tucked into dark corners. A Jamaican jerk chicken place trying so hard to make it in “up and coming” Ebisu that its entire existence felt like an underdog story. I remember believing I knew this place intimately. I knew the walk to Shibuya. I knew the route to the pool at the local rec center. I knew how to get to Lindsey and Rob’s apartment without thinking.
And now?
Nothing is familiar.
I can’t tell where one street starts and another disappears. The landmarks I carried in my soul—the bookstore on the second floor where I first read Capote’s “In Cold Blood,” and “The Life of Pi,” by Yann Martel, the place where I found stacks of strange little paperbacks—gone. No trace. Just new storefronts, new lives, new versions of Tokyo that never included me.
It’s as if the city molted while I was gone, shedding every version of the past I thought I still belonged to.
Maybe that’s the true danger of returning to a place you once loved: you expect it to wait for you. You imagine it paused at the moment you left, still warm with your presence. But cities don’t wait. They reinvent. They fold and unfold. They make new memories with new people. And when you come back, you’re just another outsider walking through a life someone else is living now.
I used to think returning would reconnect me. Instead, it reminded me how far I’ve moved, and how far Tokyo has moved without me.
I guess if you’re going to leave a place, you should never expect to return to the same version of it—or the same version of yourself.
November 2025
TOKYO (SHIBUYA,) JAPAN STREET ART: TAKEFUSA KUBO
Adidas brings sport and street culture together:
A large-scale statue or “monument” of Takefusa Kubo has appeared in the Dogenzaka area of Shibuya, Tokyo. It blends athlete, brand and city.
8november2025
TOKYO (NAKA-MEGURO,) JAPAN GRAFFITI: ART WILL SAVE YOU
Gei wa mi o tasukeru.” (芸は身を助ける)
→ “Art will save you.”
8november2025
TOKYO, JAPAN STREET ART: ICONIC VENDING MACHINE CULTURE
These are two of the coolest vending machines I’ve ever seen in Japan because I love the intertwining of Japanese history and culture with the iconic ingenuity of their ultra-famous, unique vending machines. And, a nod to street art and creativity!
You can walk almost anywhere in Japan—down a quiet residential lane, through a neon alley, or even along a rural road—and you’ll find them standing there, waiting for you: vending machines. Always glowing, always ready, as much a part of the landscape as convenience stores and shrines. There are more than four million of them across the country, each one a small symbol of Japanese efficiency, trust, and design. Im sitting here this morning writing this with a hot can of coffee I just got from my vending machine on my street.
But not all vending machines are the same. Some, like these two bright red Coca-Cola machines I found near Bic Camera in Shibuya-Tokyo, tell their own story. One side features a Maiko, an apprentice geisha from Kyoto, in her flowing kimono, caught mid-dance. The other shows a Samurai, poised and armored, embodying discipline and tradition. Together, they capture the balance Japan seems to hold effortlessly—grace and strength, delicacy and precision, art and practicality.
That’s what makes vending machine culture here so fascinating: it’s not just about convenience, it’s about identity. These machines dispense drinks, yes—iced coffee, hot coffee, canned tea, Pocari Sweat—but they also dispense small pieces of culture. The designs change by region, reflecting local pride, history, or even seasonal motifs. They’re like public art installations that also happen to hand you a bottle of green tea.
In a country where space is precious and order is revered, vending machines manage to blend both beauty and function. They hum quietly at night, glowing against the urban darkness, each one an ambassador of Japan’s creativity.
So yes, the Maiko and Samurai might just be on a pair of vending machines—but in Japan, even a quick drink on the go can be an encounter with history.
November 2025