Shinjuku: the art of standing still in a neighbourhood that won’t

11 Feb

Tokyo is a city that never stops moving—except when it does. Nowhere is this contrast more striking than in Shinjuku, where neon lights flicker above ancient alleyways, and a peaceful shrine hides just around the corner from a packed izakaya. It’s a place where the past and the future seem to exist in the same frame, and that’s exactly what I tried to capture through my lens.

Walking through Shinjuku at night is like stepping into a cyberpunk dream. Towering LED screens fill the streets with an electric glow, while businessmen in perfectly pressed suits rush past, disappearing into hidden bars. And yet, if you turn down the right side street, you’ll find a quiet moment—a lone bicycle leaning against a wooden storefront, steam rising from a bowl of ramen, an elderly shopkeeper carefully arranging wares in the same way they probably have for decades.

One of my favourite shots from this trip was taken in Golden Gai, a tiny network of bars that feels like a time capsule from post-war Japan. The streets are barely wide enough for two people to pass, yet each bar is bursting with life. Just minutes away, the skyscrapers of Shinjuku’s business district loom like futuristic guardians, reminding you that, in Tokyo, the past is never too far from the present.

Shinjuku is a contradiction, and that’s what makes it so fascinating. It’s loud and quiet, modern and traditional, overwhelming and oddly peaceful—all at the same time. Photographing it was a challenge, but also a thrill. Every corner held a new scene, every moment a new contrast.

If you ever find yourself in Tokyo, take a walk through Shinjuku at night with your camera. Get lost in its streets, let the neighbourhood surprise you. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, you’ll turn a corner and realise—you haven’t.