Since the days of the Meiwa Era, Asakusa’s Senso-ji temple in downtown Tokyo has hosted “Hozuki Ichi” (Ground Cherry Lantern Festival), in the blistering heat of mid-July. According to legend, a young samurai’s apprentice dreamed that the Japanese horse-riding, goblin-slaying, deity of fire, Atago Gongen, revealed to him the medicinal powers of a Houzuki pod (ground cherry plant pod resembling a Chinese paper lantern). The next morning, while cleaning the garden of Shiba-Seishoji Temple he found such a ground cherry plant pod and recalled the dream from the night before. He proclaimed that if one were to eat an unripe ground cherry at Atago Shrine on June 24, the festival day for the Buddhist deity Jizo, they could be cured of any ailments and their children would be cured of distemper. Taking the young Samurai apprentice’s advice, many people promptly tried this on June 24, discovering that it was mysteriously effective, alleviating the fever and discomfort experienced by pregnant women, and thus began calling it a wonder medicine. This was the beginning of the Hozuki-ichi Festival that has continued for over 200 years.

Accordingly, the Atago festival has become quite popular and over the decades, many temples have also adopted their own Hozuki Ichi festivals. The festival in Asakusa at Sensoji has since become larger and more popular than the one in Atago. On July 9th and 10th, the latter of which is also Yonman-rokusennichi (Day of 46,000 Blessings), over 450 vendors arrive to sell Houzuki lantern plants while another 350 come to peddle typical festival fare. Visitors nowadays come in their summer yukata, to buy a Houzuki plant, also said to ward off evil spirits and goblins from their home. Glass furin wind chimes ring across the festival grounds, aiding the laid back attitude, which despite the humidity, makes it one of Tokyo’s more pleasant and peculiar summertime celebrations.

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In the film Messengers (Yasuo Baba, 1999) one of the protagonists says to our Lycra-clad heroine, ‘You look like a race queen.’ Parochially translated for American audiences as, ‘You look like a slut‘, this missive unintentionally sums up the role of race queens in the modern world.

A variation of the Formula 1 car racing European pit lane girls (who are supposedly present to hold umbrellas over drivers), race queens – or ‘campaign girls’ – are frowned upon in many Western countries as examples of sexism, and of cynical marketing for an otherwise male-dominated industry.

Contrary to the fall-off of sexist advertising campaigns for cars and the automotive industry globally, the race queen still survives in Japan. Major trade shows and industry events in Japan might have seen a reduction in their race queen populations recently, but this is more a sign of economic austerity over any update to sexual perspectives in Japan.

Buoyed by their high status in the modeling industry in Japan, super race queens continue to generate large fan-bases in their own right, commanding high appearance monies, and often driving their own careers accordingly.

The 2010 Formula 1 season opened in Melbourne recently, with a series of very mildly dressed pit lane girls (‘more modern’ was the statement). The same weekend held the annual Tokyo Motorcycle Show at Tokyo’s Big Sight in Odaiba. Present in a bewildering array of skimpy clothes the race queens continued to pout, pose and preen for the cameras as they do countless times a year across Japan.

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If any threat exists to race queens in Japan, it will not be from a waning popularity in their hardcore otaku fan base, nor will it likely come from ‘safety concerns’ associated with their skimpy clothing, and it will certainly not come from any change in perception of the role of women in Japan. Any further demise in race queen populations will surely be a result of purely economic motives.

As for our Lycra-clad heroine in ‘Messengers’, in Japan at least, she triumphs, beats her derisive competitor and wins the heart of the leading man, making a lot of money along the way…

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The feeling of entering these shops is not unlike that of entering a temple. You step into the dim light, surrounded by mysterious, arcane objects, only some of which you can properly identify.  As the incense-like sweet smell of grease and oil hits your nose, you begin to question the depth of your convictions. Are you worthy of entering, or will you be shuffled quickly and politely out again after your query is dismissed?

You’ll be greeted by an acolyte, who will set aside whatever task with which he was busying himself, clean his hands on the rag from his back pocket while discerns the nature of your visit before disturbing the monk-like masters of the shop, who likely won’t yet look up to acknowledge your presence, too busy breathing life into a shaft-driven bike from the 1930′s or machining a long-out-of-production part for an ancient Triumph or Indian. For them, there is too much to be done and too few people with the skills to do it. These are not people you disturb for petty interruptions.

Stepping back into the light of day, you carry the feeling of having set foot on hallowed ground, a sacred enclave of these remarkable machines of steel and rubber and grease and gasoline.

The shops are generally small and work areas cramped, but you feel a sense of the workers’ camaraderie as they work in close quarters.

There’s a jovial air about the shop at times. These men are doing what they love and loving what they do. Yet, there’s seriousness of purpose and a reverence for the bikes themselves, a limited and dwindling supply of vintage machines that are made to be subjected to the fierce demands of the road. These are the caretakers of this particular corner of history, the guardians of a tradition that is always at risk of disappearing.

Summer evenings are often spent not only repairing bikes, but admiring them.  They live and breathe bikes and sitting down with one, you get the sense they are sitting down with a friend.

This old Sunbeam carries a club badge for The Vintage Motor Cycle Club, a club formed in 1946 in Hog’s Back, Guildford, Surrey. The badge itself is old enough to be considered a vintage collectible, but at the time it was new, the bike was already a bit of a relic.

These photos are a small selection from a much larger body of work that is available for licensing. Please contact licensing@magnesiumphotos.com for more information.

For over a  century car makers have known the grill is the face of the car whether its the aggressive shark-like snout of the Dodge Charger or the happy little french moustache on a Karmann Ghia. As they say, the eyes are the gateways to the soul, so too is a car’s face its window to its essence. Much like the human face, the grill of a car is the expression of what lies behind. Varied and expressive as every human emotion, a car’s face can portray how it intends to handle the road of life. Here is a collection of just of few of the famous we have grown to love over the years.

If you are interested in using these in a commercial work, these photos are a small selection from a much larger body of work that is all available for licensing. Please contact licensing@magnesiumphotos.com for more information.

Shinjuku Station

This was the photo that inspired the yet to be published series, “Analogue Bike.”

From the Magnesium Tokyo office, wishing you and yours a Happy New Year of the Tiger.