Vernal Equinox
Dear Local Sentō.
Some call you Sentō, some Ofuro and others a Public Bath — as I did when I first arrived. Full of fear, fear of nudity and the unknown. “Just take off your clothes and go in!'' she exclaimed through space above the wall separating us. Years later I fearlessly seek you out when travelling to places new and old. A familiar face in an unfamiliar town. You have become my sanctuary, a ritual of calm meditation — before work, after work, and days of no work at all.
Inspiration found in your functional-dysfunctional aesthetics; lockers with keys made of wood, aluminium or no keys at all — just baskets and trust. A singular obligatory display fridge; once holding glass bottles of milk, now home to collections of toiletries and useful whatnots to those who frequent you most. Many of you still have textures and tiles of varying sizes, shapes and patterns in combinations of colours from the imagination of time and use. If I were to employ my full artistic prowess, I couldn’t produce anything close to your delightful juxtaposition of change — for this is where your beauty lies and why I return.
Wish you were here…
James
P.S.
The sentō pictured above is named あいおいゆ (Aioi-yu) which I believe to mean “growing old together - hot spring”. I love it. It is older than I and can be found in Kobe, a city of few public baths as many were lost in the Great Hanshin Earthquake on January 17, 1995; which happens to be my birthday (birth-day not birth-year).