My Last Shigyoshiki in Gion Kobu

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Shortly after the signs went up in Gion Kobu on October 25, 2019 announcing a ban on photography on private roads in the district, I mentioned the announcement to one of my friends.

“That’s good for you, isn’t it?” he said.

I told him the news didn’t really affect me. For one thing, I have had permission to photograph maiko and geiko in Gion Kobu since 2007. More importantly, I had banned myself from photographing on the streets of Gion Kobu since early in 2018.

Why?

I’ve written several times here about how uncomfortable I started to feel at big events like Hassaku (August 1) and Shigyoshiki (January 7) from 2013 on, when the crowds of photographers were getting even bigger than they had already been.

I used to tell myself that I had to go because I would need a few photographs of these events for a book someday, but by 2014 that was no longer the case. I had photographed Mameharu, Manaha, and Takahina at both Hassaku and Shigyoshiki 2 or 3 times each. I had more than enough images.

So, when Mahaha retired early in 2014, I decided I would stop photographing these events in Gion Kobu, at least for a while.

An Unexpected Invitation

I didn’t miss them, and I had no intention of going back. And then I got a phone call late in the evening on January 6, 2018, the night before Shigyoshiki.

It was one of my friends from Gion Kobu. “Sorry to be calling you so late,” he said. “Maiko A just stopped by. She wanted me to tell you that…”

My friend went on to say that the maiko told him what time she would be leaving her okiya the next morning, and what route she would be walking at that time. It was unusually early for Shigyoshiki, and the route was not what I was expecting.

This is very Kyoto. I was not “officially” allowed to photograph the maiko during Shigyoshiki, but if I just happened to be at a spot along her route at the time she would be walking there, I would have my chance.

“So, are you coming tomorrow?” my friend asked.

I was both pleased and annoyed. I was pleased at the maiko’s thoughtfulness. She certainly didn’t have to go out of her way to let me know how I could photograph her the next day, but she had. I was touched.

On the other hand, I was slightly annoyed. I really hadn’t missed all the crowds and chaos connected to Shigyoshiki and didn’t want to go back. But since the maiko had gone out of her way to help me, I knew I had to go. It would be ungrateful and rude if I didn’t.

“Are you sure it’s okay that I stop by so early?” I asked my friend.

“I’ll be up,” he said.

I told him I’d be there, and I went to get my camera ready.

Ogres in Gion Kobu?

The next morning, I arrived in Gion Kobu very early.

There were already more than a few little old men walking around with their cameras out.

And this is part of the reason for the ban for photography in Gion Kobu. During Shigyoshiki, the geiko and maiko leave the Gion Kaburenjo around 1:30 p.m., and then make their rounds of the teahouses and shops in their district.

So, if you are a photographer and want to take photos of Shigyoshiki in Gion, you can arrive around 1:00 p.m. and still have plenty of time to get ready. There is no reason to be clogging up the streets or standing in front of okiya and restaurants any earlier than that.

Yes, you will miss the 10 seconds of geiko and maiko walking as fast as they can by you as they go to enter the kaburenjo before the ceremony, but are those 10 seconds worth 3 hours of standing out in the cold and disrupting the lives of the people who live and work in Gion Kobu?

I don’t think so!

My friend was waiting for me at his teahouse, all bundled up in several layers of sweaters, sweatshirts, and a down vest. We chatted for a while and I warmed up, but it was soon time to pick my spot on the route so I could make a quick portrait of Maiko A. I knew exactly where I wanted to stand.

There were more photographers on the street now, still mostly little old men. I started walking towards my spot, and several of these photographers started following me.

You’ve got to be kidding me!

I knew that if I went to my spot and stayed in it, these photographers would coalesce around me and any chance of making a decent portrait would disappear.

I quickly made a u-turn and walked in the opposite direction. I wanted to thrown them off my trail!

This all seems pretty ridiculous to me now, but it was important to me then.

I walked aimlessly around and then I saw Maiko A coming down the street. Most of the little old men limped quickly in her direction, and I went back to my spot.

Ha-ha! I had tricked them!

Nope!

About 30 seconds later Maiko A and another maiko came walking down the alley to where I was waiting for them. Maiko A gave me a quick smile and then looked straight ahead.

Right behind the two maiko were several photographers. In the few photos I made of their approach, one of the men has his mouth open and his tongue is hanging out. He reminds me of an ogre from a fairy tale sneaking up on a young princess, ready to devour her before a gallant knight comes along to save her.

Maiko A continued to ignore me until she was right in front of me. She whispered something to her friend and then stopped. Her friend kept walking.

We wished each other a happy new year and I made a few photographs, stopping for a second to recompose and make a few more.

I thanked her and she went to catch up to her friend. It all took less than 10 seconds.

The ogres resumed their chase.

I returned to my friend’s teahouse. We chatted for a while, and at 11:00 a.m. I decided it was time for lunch. When I left the teahouse this time, the street was swarming with photographers.

You’re Too Early!

There were small groups in front of almost every okiya in Gion, and very large groups across the street from the famous teahouses like Ichiriki.

Again, the best chance to photograph was going to be at 1:30 p.m., and it was only 11:00 a.m. These photographers were going to be blocking the streets and the entrances to homes and businesses for 2 and a half hours or more, for absolutely no reason.

I walked all the way up to the Burger King that used to be at Sanjo Kawaramachi for lunch, and made it back to Gion by 1:00 p.m.

I returned by the same streets I had left, and I saw all the same photographers standing in all the same spots as almost 2 hours earlier. None of them had moved. And no maiko or geiko had appeared yet and wouldn’t for another 40 minutes or so.

I didn’t see any maiko or geiko I knew until after 2:30 p.m. when I finally saw Yuriha and Tatsuha, who were experiencing their first Shigyoshiki.

They were walking with Mayuha and Eriha, their onesan. There were so many people around by this time that I didn’t expect them to notice me, especially since I had on a ski cap and my face was hidden behind my camera.

Somehow, they recognized me, and they immediately stopped without my asking and posed for me. Their smiles were the high point of my day.

As I walked home later that afternoon, I thought it would have been better if I had just left after my early morning encounter with Maiko A.

Now that I have looked through the photos again 2 years later and seen the cheerful smiles of Yuriha and Tatsuha, I am glad I saw them.

But I still won’t be going back to Shigyoshiki or Hassaku any time soon, if ever. There might not be much of a difference if there are only 1,000 photographers there instead of 1,001, but I can only control myself.

And I feel better knowing that I will not be adding to the congestion on the streets and the pressure that geiko and maiko feel as they are watched, followed, and photographed as they go about their daily lives.

I am no gallant knight, but I am not a hungry ogre, either!