Winter Scene in Echigo (Niigata, Japan)

Here is one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite regions in Japan — Niigata.

In the old days, the prefecture of Niigata (新潟） was referred to as Echigo (越後). I lived for many years in Nagano (as you may know if you read my other posts) which is directly adjacent to Niigata. I also spent two years studying at the International University of Japan (IUJ, or 国際大学 as it is known in Japanese), which gave me even more opportunity to get to explore and photograph the landscape of this fascinating  area. It is famous for it koshihikari rice, hotsprings, and beautiful mountain and coastal scenery. (Coming from British Columbia with the mountains and ocean, Niigata feels familiar.) Niigata has traditionally had an image as one of the isolated back-country regions of Japan (uranihon, 裏日本）. It is incorrect, actually, to think of Niigata as having been somehow cut off from  ”civilization”; it, along with other supposed isolated areas such as the Noto peninsula (能登半島） had much mercantile and cultural contact with other regions in Japan and mainland Asia due to the sea trade routes.

Niigata is also historically known as “snow country” (雪国) due to the massive amount of snow the cold winds from Siberia bring down onit. Dealing with the snow has had a strong influence on the people of Niigata — on their character and their lifestyle. One interesting physical manifestation of this is how the traditional homes were built — with doors on two stories, one for the summer on the ground floor and one on the second floor for access when the snow piled 2 or 3 metres high (it does — I have dug myself out of it).

The tiny thatched roof house or kayabukiyane no minka (かやぶき屋根の民家) in this scene is to be found in the charming mountain village of Matsunoyama (松之山）, which  these days is known for being one of the few remaining areas with a high concentration of thatched-roof dwellings. Throughout the country, such traditional thatched-roof dwellings are fast disappearing, either being covered in metal or being torn down and rebuilt entirely. It is a shame, because these farmhouses (the design of which is distinctive to each region of Japan) are one of the most charming aspects of the man-made landscape.

This picture was taken on a brilliant morning while driving from Nagano to Yamato-machi; after a heavy overnight snow fall, I knew taking a slight diversion through Matsunoyama would afford some great picture opportunities. I had passed by this scene several times before during different times of day during different seasons. This was the first time to see it blanketed in snow. The composition with my 180 lens was pretty straightforward. I took a few shots with the camera tilted a little lower but I prefer this framing, with a little bit of the top of the mountain showing to provide context.

The trickiest part of this shot was the exposure. Snow at the best of times can be difficult because of the reflection; however, this shot was complicated by the top-back-side light. I took reflective reading off several parts of the scene and calculated an average. I compared this average to a reading based on the incident light meter held at and angle to to simulate the angle of the sun. With the Sekonic 308, you can retract the white hemisphere into the unit, so I took another reading to simulate the shadow incident reading. After taking all these readings, I found a kind of overall average and then adjusted for gut-feeling. Aperture was at f16, and shutter speed at 1/60.

I did not use any filters. The blue cast is mainly from the high colour temperature of the light in the shadows. I find the blue cast from Kodak Ektachrome the most pleasing of all the films, and usually only use Ektachrome in the winter, as opposed to Fuji Velvia the other seasons.

As a postscript, I am sad to say when I visited this scene again not too long ago in the spring I found that the farmhouse had been ripped down. I remember when I first started taking pictures of this scene, I would often see a single elderly lady tending to the adjacent garden. Winter on her own must have been very difficult, having to deal with clearing the roof of snow. Many of the elderly are vacating such dwellings to live in more convenient communal dwellings closer to towns. I don’t blame them. But it is a waste that the dwellings are torn down. I know of several foreigners that make a living renovating such farmhouses into attractive homes. For some reason, the Japanese seem  to be less interested in keeping this part of their cultural heritage alive.