This room, buried in the hotel's lower levels, is now a hollowed-out space where light barely reaches. What little illumination filters through falls on a makeshift storage area, stacked chairs and tables pushed against the far wall, partly veiled by heavy, decaying curtains. Among them, a set of zaisu, traditional Japanese floor chairs, once offering guests a comfortable place to sit at low tables, sits in quiet disarray.
The purpose of this space is uncertain. The scale suggests a function room, possibly used for gatherings or dining, but the curtain at the far end hints at something more. Perhaps it was once a modest stage where speakers addressed guests or entertainers performed in an intimate setting. Or maybe, as the hotel’s decline set in, it was repurposed, chairs and tables stacked away as fewer visitors filled the halls.
Now, time has settled in. The walls flake apart, the ceiling sags, and mould clings to every surface. What was once a space of gathering and purpose is now a room without identity, waiting in darkness as the past slips further from memory.
This fine art photography print captures the haunting remnants of Kinugawa Kan’s abandoned function room, a compelling piece for those drawn to the quiet echoes of forgotten places.