Final Report - A Journey through Japanese

A Journey through Japanese Architecture, Old and New
by Abby Enscoe, MEng.
Preface
I received the SOM Foundation’s Structural Engineering Travel Fellowship in 2009. The fellowship allows recent structural
engineering graduates to travel anywhere in the world to experience and study architecture. Through the fellowship, I
spent two and a half months exploring Japan and studying architecture ranging from ancient temples and shrines to
modern skyscrapers. Japanese architecture—both old and new—has long been my favorite, and I am deeply indebted to
the SOM Foundation for the opportunity to experience these wonderful buildings in person.
All photographs and drawings are mine unless otherwise noted. Many Japanese buildings—particularly temples and
museums—do not allow photography, and several prohibit drawing. This means that I have no visual record of certain
buildings, especially interiors. I apologize for this omission.
The paper is organized around groups of key buildings, arranged by category and then roughly by age within each section.
Short sections discussing elements of Japanese architecture appear throughout. Pictures of additional buildings are
included at the end of the report with the same organization, without text.
Table of Contents
Introduction!........................................................................................................................................1
Map of Japan with Cities Visited!......................................................................................................2
Elements: Gates!.................................................................................................................................3
Shrines!................................................................................................................................................4
Elements: Rebuilding!......................................................................................................................10
Temples!.............................................................................................................................................11
Elements: Wooden Joints!...............................................................................................................16
Temples II!..........................................................................................................................................17
Elements: Gardens!..........................................................................................................................23
Villas!..................................................................................................................................................24
Elements: Wood!...............................................................................................................................27
Castles!..............................................................................................................................................28
Elements: Tatami Mats!....................................................................................................................35
Residential Architecture!..................................................................................................................36
Elements: Layers, Detail, Materials!................................................................................................41
Museums (and an Aquarium)!..........................................................................................................42
Elements: Competing for attention!................................................................................................48
Modern!..............................................................................................................................................49
Tadao Ando!.......................................................................................................................................60
Additional Buildings!........................................................................................................................69
Shrines!..............................................................................................................................................70
Temples!.............................................................................................................................................75
Villas!..................................................................................................................................................79
Residential!........................................................................................................................................82
Museums!..........................................................................................................................................85
Modern!..............................................................................................................................................90
Tadao Ando!.....................................................................................................................................100
Expanded Table of Contents
Introduction!........................................................................................................................................1
Map of Japan with Cities Visited!......................................................................................................2
Elements: Gates!.................................................................................................................................3
Shrines!................................................................................................................................................4
Ise Jingu!
5
Itsukushima Jinja!
7
Fushimi Inari!
9
Elements: Rebuilding!......................................................................................................................10
Temples!.............................................................................................................................................11
Horyu-ji!
12
Todai-ji!
13
T"-ji (Ky"-"-gokokuji Temple)!
15
Elements: Wooden Joints!...............................................................................................................16
Temples II!..........................................................................................................................................17
Byodo-in!
17
Sanjusanjend" (Renge"-in Temple)!
19
Kodai-ji!
20
Nishi Hongan-ji!
21
Elements: Gardens!..........................................................................................................................23
Villas!..................................................................................................................................................24
Katsura Rikyu Imperial Villa (Katsura Detached Palace)!
25
Elements: Wood!...............................................................................................................................27
Castles!..............................................................................................................................................28
Himeji-jo!
29
Matsumoto-jo!
33
Matsue-jo!
34
Elements: Tatami Mats!....................................................................................................................35
Residential Architecture!..................................................................................................................36
Sanmachi district!
37
Kakunodate samurai district!
38
Traditional Farmhouses (Open air museum of old Japanese farmhouses, Hida-no-Sato)!
39
Elements: Layers, Detail, Materials!................................................................................................41
Museums (and an Aquarium)!..........................................................................................................42
Tokyo Sea Life Park!
43
Nima Sand Museum!
44
Gallery of Horyuji Treasures!
45
21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art!
46
Suntory Museum of Art!
47
Elements: Competing for attention!................................................................................................48
Modern!..............................................................................................................................................49
Nakagin Capsule Tower!
50
Tokyo Metropolitan Government Offices!
51
Shin Umeda Sky Building!
52
Tazawa-ko Station!
53
Kyoto Station!
55
Prada!
56
Tod#s Omotesando!
57
Christian Dior Omotesando!
58
Mikimoto Ginza 2!
59
Tadao Ando!.......................................................................................................................................60
Church of the Light!
61
Water Temple!
63
Garden of Fine Arts!
65
Sayamaike Museum!
66
Chichu Art Museum!
67
Additional Buildings!........................................................................................................................69
Shrines!..............................................................................................................................................70
Izumo Taisha!
71
Sensoji!
72
Kasuga Shrine!
73
Meiji Jingu!
74
Temples!.............................................................................................................................................75
Yakushi-ji!
76
Kiyomizudera!
77
Daitoku-ji (Koto-in subtemple)!
78
Villas!..................................................................................................................................................79
Kinkaku-ji (Golden Pavillion)!
80
Ginkaku-ji (Silver Pavillion)!
81
Residential!........................................................................................................................................82
Buke Yashiki Samurai Residence!
83
Otaru Warehouse District!
84
Museums!..........................................................................................................................................85
Peace Memorial Museum!
86
Ukiyo-e Museum!
87
Tepia Science Pavillion!
88
Pola Art Museum!
89
Modern!..............................................................................................................................................90
Former Hokkaido Government Office Building!
91
Izumo Taisha Former Train Station!
92
National Gymnasium!
93
Shizuoka Press and Broadcasting Systems Building!
94
Asahi Brewery!
95
Tokyo International Forum!
96
Matsumoto Performing Arts Center!
97
National Art Center!
98
Naoshima Ferry Terminal!
99
Tadao Ando!.....................................................................................................................................100
Museum of Literature!
101
Minami-dera!
102
International Library of Children#s Literature!
103
21_21 Design Site!
104
Introduction
First, an argument in favor of travel.
Visiting buildings in person differs fundamentally from studying plans or looking at photographs. A visitor can stumble
upon unexpected views and watch her perspective shift as she walks forward. The feeling of passing through a mighty
gate or of emerging from a low-ceilinged corridor into an open room is not easy to understand from a distance. It is nearly
impossible to predict in advance how a building will feel. Planning this trip, I looked forward to experiencing structures in
all their three-dimensional, dynamic glory.
It’s even better than that.
The buildings taught me again and again to appreciate my senses. The sound of falling water changes the experience of
a place. So does the feeling of running your hand along a smooth, polished concrete wall. Or a rough stone wall. A
shrine built over water smells different from a shrine built over land, and the light on the water shrine dances continuously
as the water ripples below. Walking across wooden castle floorboards in bare feet, feeling irregularities smoothed by
years of use, is not the same as walking the same path in boots. The sounds of clapping hands and coins falling into
collection boxes are fundamental elements of Shinto shrines. The smell and the feel of tatami mats are fundamental
elements of Japan.
Even from a single vantage point, our eyes make observation a rich experience. Where a photographer must pick an
exposure setting, losing detail in the light and dark parts of the picture, our eyes can continually readjust to reveal a wealth
of subtleties in bright and dark areas. A place that looks uniformly black in a photograph is actually many different grays
and browns. An exterior wall the same color as the sky does not actually blend into the sky when you see it in person.
The time it takes our eyes to adjust is part of architecture too: walking into a sunlit room from a dark corridor is completely
different from walking into a sunlit room from a sunlit corridor.
I have tried to record these impressions, and to let my experience of the structures guide this report. I have enjoyed
studying the history of Japanese architecture, and will include history, construction details, and structural information
whenever it makes sense. I hope to convey here a little of the feeling of walking through these places, with the time to
linger on the details.
1
Final Itinerary (chronological): Building (Architect) Senso‐ji Tod’s Omotesando (Ito) Christian Dior Omotesando (SANAA) Prada (Herzog and de Meuron) National Gymnasium (Tange) Pola Art Museum (Nikken Sekkei) Design Space 21‐21 (Ando) Suntory Museum of Art (Kuma) National Art Center (Kurokawa) Tepia Science Museum (Maki) International Library of Children’s Literature (Ando) Gallery of Horyu‐ji Treasures (Taniguchi) Tokyo Sea Life Park (Taniguchi) Nakagin Capsule Tower (Kurokawa) Shizuoka Press and Broadcasting Systems Building (Tange) Mikimoto Ginza (Ito) Tokyo International Forum (Vinoly) Tokyo Metropolitan Government Offices (Tange) Meiji Jingu Asahi Brewery (Starck) Byodo‐in Katsura Detatched Palace To‐ji Garden of Fine Arts (Ando) Himeji Castle Kyoto Station (Hara) Nishi Hongan‐ji Ise Jingu Yakushi‐ji Horyu‐ji Kasuga Shrine Todai‐ji Sanjusanjendo Fushimi Inari Kinkaku‐ji Daitokuji—Koto‐in subtemple City Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Hakone Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Uji Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Himeji Kyoto Kyoto Ise Nara Nara Nara Nara Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Prefecture Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Kanagawa Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Tokyo Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Hyogo Kyoto Kyoto Mie Nara Nara Nara Nara Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Kiyomizudera Kodai‐ji Ginkaku‐ji Shin‐Umeda Sky Building (Hara) Sayamaike Museum (Ando) Himeji Museum of Literature (Ando) Church of the Light (Ando) Open air museum of traditional Japanese farmhouses Peace Memorial Museum (Tange) Nima Sand Museum (Takamatsu) Buke Yashiki Samurai Residence Matsue‐jo Izumo Taisha Izumo Taisha old train station Chichu Art Museum (Ando) Naoshima Ferry Terminal Building (SANAA) Minamidera Art House Project (Ando) Benesse House Museum (Ando) Water Temple (Ando) Itsukushima Jinja 21st Century Museum of Art (SANAA) Hida‐no‐sato Sanmachi district, Takayama Matsumoto Performing Arts Center (Ito) Ukiyo‐e Museum (Shinohara) Matsumoto‐jo Tazawa‐ko Station (Ban) Kakunodate District Odate warehouse district Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Osaka Osakasayama Himeji Ibaraki Toyonaka Hiroshima Nima Matsue Matsue Izumo Izumo Naoshima Naoshima Naoshima Naoshima Awajishima Itsukushima Kanazawa Takayama Takayama Matsumoto Matsumoto Matsumoto Tazawa‐ko Kakunodate Odate Kyoto Kyoto Kyoto Osaka Osaka Hyogo Osaka Osaka Hiroshima Shimane Shimane Shimane Shimane Shimane Kagawa Kagawa Kagawa Kagawa Hyogo Hiroshima Ishikawa Gifu Gifu Nagano Nagano Nagano Akita Akita Akita Former Hokkaido Government Office Building Sapporo Hokkaido Map of Japan with Cities Visited
Map outline from www.worldatlas.com
2
Elements: Gates
Exploring Japanese architecture means passing through gates. Every shrine, temple, castle, and villa has one or more
gateways, ranging from simple stone torii outside neighborhood shrines to elaborate wooden temple gates that feel like
buildings in their own right and take several seconds to pass through.
Temples, castles, and villas feature wide entry gates, often with several columns, complex roof systems, and intricate
wooden joints. These gates often lead to courtyards enclosed by thick walls and covered corridors. Several layers of
gates sometimes separate the outer world from the most protected area.
Gates make you feel transitions. Walking under a wide gate takes time and feels powerful, as if you have crossed a
significant barrier and entered a world separate from the one you left a few seconds before. As you walk under the gate
you often cannot help but look up; watching thick wooden beams pass over your head conveys a sense of time passing,
the world turning, progress being made. The fierce guardian statues that reside in some temple gates heighten this effect.
Torii, the ubiquitous gates that form an integral part of every Shinto shrine, vary impressively in terms of both size and
effect. Made from stone or wood, left unfinished or painted bright orange, they are typically constructed from two crossbeams spanning two cylindrical columns. Though commonly built at a scale that comfortably fits a person, they range
from miniature torii placed on shrines by worshippers to mighty structures such as the 24 meter tall torii of Heian Jingu,
which precedes the main shrine by a long city block and towers over a wide, traffic-filled street.
Torii signify the entrance to sacred space. Crossing under torii, however, feels much less momentous than passing under
a mighty temple gate. It is almost possible to walk under the narrow torii without noticing. Perhaps because they stand
alone rather than forming an opening in a wall, they feel natural, marking off the world without demanding much attention.
Passing through layers of torii in large shrines calms you, subtly separating the inner shrine from the bustle of everyday
life.
Torii at Meiji Jingu, Tokyo
3
Shrines
Shinto, Japan’s indigenous religion, emphasizes the worship of the natural world and the Kami—deities or sacred forces—
who inhabit it. Shinto practice often focuses on sacred rocks, trees, or mountains. Practitioners also visit shrines to
worship the Kami who reside inside the shrine buildings. Most people in Japan practice Shinto, often alongside
Buddhism; the two religions have come to coexist quite peaceably.
The first Shinto shrines were probably small and portable—similar to shrines carried in traditional festivals today.1 Today,
larger stationary shrines vary widely in style, but generally contain torii and one or more sanctuaries. Visiting Shinto
shrines involves a series of ritual acts: visitors first purify themselves at the entrance by pouring spring water onto each
hand, and then approach the main shrine, throw coins into the donation box, clap their hands twice, bow, pray, and bow
again.
A fountain at a shrine entrance with ladles for
ritual purification
1
Kazuo Nishi and Kazua Hozumi. What Is Japanese Architecture? Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1985.
4
Ise Jingu
Date: 4 C.E. (claimed, Naiku), 477 (Geku), ritual rebuilding starting in the 7th century
Location: Ise, Mie Prefecture
Shinto shrines were traditionally dismantled and rebuilt every several years in order to preserve spiritual
purity and renewal. The great expense associated with reconstruction in
modern times has stopped this practice everywhere but at Ise Jingu,
Japan’s most sacred Shinto shrine. Two shrine complexes—Naiku (Inner
Shrine) and Geku (Outer Shrine)—contain the main shrines, over a
hundred secondary sanctuaries, and a bridge leading to the Inner Shrine
complex, all rebuilt every 20 years since the 7th century. The 62nd
rebuilding will be completed in 2013.
Each modern reconstruction costs millions of dollars and takes several
years to complete. Carpenters construct the building using the original
methods, passed down from generation to generation of builders. The 20
year interval allows trained carpenters to instruct new generations in
building techniques that are not practiced anywhere else. Through
constant reconstruction, the shrines are both ancient and new—physically
new but also physically connected to the buildings that preceded them
many centuries ago.
Rebuilding the Uji bridge, seen from the existing bridge
Each structure stands in one of two identical adjacent lots that lie to the
East and West of each other. The second lot remains empty except for a small
wooden hut called an Oi-ya, built around a short Shin-no-mihashira, or heart pillar.
The heart pillar must remain hidden at all times.
During reconstruction, carpenters build the new
sanctuary around the Oi-ya, deconstructing the
hut only after completing the building around it.
On the first site, an Oi-ya is constructed around
the heart pillar inside the sanctuary before the
sanctuary itself is disassembled. Priests transfer
Kami and other treasures to the new sanctuary
in nighttime ceremonies, renewing them during
the transfer.
A sanctuary in the Geku complex
Ise’s buildings are constructed in the Shimmei architectural style, famous for its
simplicity. The main shrine buildings, hidden behind a tall fence, are considered too
sacred for public viewing—only the Emperor can enter them. Subsidiary buildings
follow the same architectural style, however, and thus give visitors a chance to see
how the main buildings look. Two free-standing columns, the munamochibashira,
lean slightly inwards and support the roof beam. 2 Joists at the gable ends extend
A sanctuary in the Geku complex
2
Ibid
5
above the miscanthus thatched roof, and katsuogi—roof billets—line the ridgeline.3
Columns run directly into the ground. Wood is unpainted and unfinished, adding to the
impression of unadorned simplicity and calm. Simple wooden torii lead into the complexes
as well as to individual sanctuaries.
Ise Jingu feels deeply connected to its surroundings. Sanctuaries lie nestled in the forest
that fills the expansive shrine complexes amidst fog, ponds, dripping water, and bird calls.
Tree branches and folded paper strips indicate sacred spaces throughout the forest, and
from time to time an important rock or tree is roped off for protection. Damaged trees are
patched with bark. Even full of visitors traveling along a broad gravel path, the forest feels
wild compared to the controlled, consciously designed gardens that fill Japan’s temples
and cities. The buildings look well-made, with careful, tight-fitting joints and wood cut at
exact angles, but also purposefully simple and unadorned. They create a place to stop
and contemplate the forest, and life, without drawing
attention to themselves.
Bark patches on a tree
In addition to housing statues of Kami, Shinto shrines allow people to worship the
natural world. In some, including Nara Prefecture’s Miwa shrine, a mountain replaces
a building as the main focal point, emphasizing the importance of nature above the
physical shrine.4 At Ise, thousands of visitors pad calmly through the forest along
gravel paths, pausing to pray at numerous wooden sanctuaries before reaching the
gate outside the main Inner Shrine. The buildings’ simple lines and bare wood allow
them to blend into the forest; moss growing on torii and bamboo and paper on trees
further blend the division between nature and the built environment. The sanctuaries
call people to stop and notice their surroundings, breathing in the wildness of the
forest.
The Naiku complex
3
Ibid
4
Ibid
Visitors walking up stairs to the main Inner
Shrine
6
Itsukushima Jinja
Date: probably 9th century, rebuilt in current form 12th century, rebuilt 16th century (Noh
Stage rebuilt 1875)
Location: Itsukushima (popularly known as Miyajima), Hiroshima Prefecture
Legend claims that Itsukushima Jinja was constructed over
water to accommodate commoners, who were not allowed to set
foot upon the deeply sacred island of Itsukushima. At high tide,
they could pass through the otorii—the ‘o’ at the front of the word
signifies particular respect—and approach the shrine on boats.
Taira no Kiyomori, the powerful head of the Taira clan,
transformed the original shrine into its current form in the 12th
century, but kept its walkways and otorii over water.
Water and location make the shrine magical. A long, bright
orange walkway guides visitors over the bay, past the central
shrine and a Noh stage, and onto the shore at the other side. A
steep, green mountainside rises from the island behind the
shrine. Water adds the smell of wet wood, the ripples of light
dancing on the ceiling beams, the sound of waves splashing,
and the impression that the pathway is swaying slightly. The air
feels fresh and clean. The Noh stage extends out from the
shore into the center of an open rectangle of corridor. Watching
performances across a small stretch of water must have been
amazing.
The otorii seen through the main shrine
The main shrine
Corridors in the main shrine
7
Far out in the bay, the mighty 16 meter otorii stands solidly in the flowing
water. The two twisting, tapering tree trunks that serve as its main
columns give the impression that it grew there of its own accord and has
roots that reach deep into the earth. It looks powerful, ready to
withstand whatever destructive forces will come its way.
As the tide goes out, mud surrounds the corridor and stage, and the
water stands knee deep around the otorii. Shoes line the spit of mud
that juts towards the mighty gate. People wade out towards it, startled at
its size now that they can see it up close. Joints that looked small from a
distance actually contain wedges a foot wide; the column bases are
perhaps six feet in diameter. The otorii stands immutable in the midst of
tidal changes that completely transform its surroundings and people’s
relationship to the shrine, adding to the impression of its might.
The otorii at high tide
The otorii at low tide
The main shrine at low tide
8
Fushimi Inari
Date: 8th century
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
Fushimi Inari Shrine, dedicated to Inari, the Shinto deity of rice
cultivation and business success, is famous for a winding path through
thousands of bright orange torii. At times tightly packed and at times
irregularly spaced and several yards apart, the torii lead visitors on a
4km hike up, along, and down a steep hillside past an assortment of
smaller sanctuaries. Worshippers place small orange torii onto the
stone sanctuaries, creating a warm contrast with the gray stones.
As I walked along the path, the flow of gates overhead created a
nearly constant feeling of progress, not unlike driving through farmland
and watching rows of crops sweep by outside. In the beginning,
where the torii were packed closely together into a tunnel, I found
myself covering a great deal of ground without much thought. The torii
continually divided the long space, drawing my attention to the
sequence of columns and beams and the patterns of light and dark.
Tightly packed torii
Later, as the torii spread out, the outside world returned. My feeling of
progress continued, but my attention focused on the forest that I had
entered almost without noticing.
Large torii in the pathway and small torii placed on stone shrines
Torii in the forest
9
Elements: Rebuilding
Perhaps the most striking thing about traditional Japanese architecture is the degree to which buildings have been rebuilt,
starting in ancient times. Stories of temples reconstructed several times over the centuries abound, as do examples of
buildings which burned down soon after construction, over a thousand years ago, only to be rebuilt immediately.
Far from being a modern response to tourism and historical preservation, rebuilding is an intrinsic part of Japanese
architecture. Buildings can continue past their original lifespans. Reconstructions sometimes preserved the original form,
sometimes included modifications, and sometimes changed the building’s form entirely, and some modern reconstructions
go so far as to model intricate wooden structural systems with concrete. Regardless of the specifics, people saw and
continue to see reconstructed buildings as fundamentally connected to their predecessors. People often say a temple is
as old as its original buildings, even if all those buildings were destroyed and reconstructed centuries later.
Shinto shrines no doubt influenced this view of reconstruction. Shrines such as Ise Jingu were traditionally rebuilt at
regular intervals to ensure purity and continuity of construction knowledge. Thus, shrines could be ancient and new at the
same time. This view of age reaching back past the age of individual buildings created a precedent for rebuilding
unintentionally destroyed structures throughout Japanese architecture.
The predominance of wood as a building material perhaps made a strong tradition of rebuilding inevitable. While certain
buildings are breathtakingly old—Horyuji temple contains wooden structures dating to the late 7th or early 8th century—
wooden buildings are vulnerable to disaster. Even those Horyuji buildings, the oldest wooden buildings in the world, are
themselves reconstructions of the originals, completed in 607 and burned down in 670.5 Fires account for the vast
majority of buildings destroyed, with earthquakes, war, and political turmoil playing roles as well. The Japanese tradition
of reconstruction serves well in a country with both an abundance of fragile building materials and a rich architectural
history.
Buildings reconstructed at different times at Yashukuji temple outside Nara
5
Ibid
10
Temples
Buddhism first arrived in Japan from Korea and China in the 6th century. Temple architecture was imported at roughly the
same time, and the first Buddhist temple complex was probably Asukadera, constructed between 588 and 596 and no
longer standing.6 Developments in China continued to influence Japanese Buddhist architecture for centuries.
Complexes contain a variety of arrangements of pagodas, halls, and roofed corridors with wide gates passing through
them. Historically, rulers and Buddhist sects invested great time and money into temple construction. As a result, temples
generally showcase the most elaborate construction techniques and ornamentation of any traditional Japanese buildings.
Kuromon Gate, at a temple in Tokyo
Yashuki-ji temple complex
6
Ibid
11
Horyu-ji
Date: 607, burned 670, rebuilt late 7th or early 8th century, some parts destroyed and rebuilt since
Location: Nara, Nara Prefecture
First built in 607, Horyu-ji burned down in 670 and was reconstructed in the
late 7th or early 8th century. The temple’s Five Story Pagoda (Gojū no Tō),
Golden Hall (Kondō), Inner Gate (Chūmon) and much of the Corridor (Kairō)
have survived since then, and are now the oldest wooden buildings in the
world.7
Sitting just inside the main gate, surrounded by these buildings, I found it hard
to comprehend wood so old. Wood is vulnerable to fire, water, and insects,
not meant to last forever. Traveling in Japan offered example after example
of the material’s susceptibility to destruction. Yet these buildings have lasted.
Patches fill sections of columns that had suffered insect
damage, and surfaces look deeply weathered, yet the
buildings have survived countless earthquakes and 14
centuries of use. Exploring the complex, I had a hard
time not thinking of them as delicate, in need of
protection.
A patch on a column
The existing buildings display Asuka era (552-710) architecture, including slightly convex columns
and cloud pattern brackets.8 The buildings look less adorned than newer temples, with simpler joints
and fewer flourishes. The huge cloud pattern brackets—bigger than a person—are striking. Builders
must have invested great effort in carving out the cloud pattern from inside the mighty beam,
demonstrating an impressive commitment to aesthetics.
Dragons represent water in Japan, and curl around the
Golden Hall’s columns to protect it against fire.
Rafters supported by cloud pattern
brackets
7
Ibid
8
Ibid
The Chūmon Gate
The corridor
A cloud pattern bracket and rafter
12
Todai-ji
Date: 760, destroyed 1180, rebuilt late 12th century, Great Buddha Hall rebuilt identically
around 1700
Location: Nara, Nara Prefecture
Todaiji’s Great Buddha Hall, or Daibutsuden, the largest wooden building in the world,
was originally fifty percent larger. The mighty Nara era complex also originally included
two 100m pagodas, far taller than any that exist today. The scale today astounds
visitors; the original temple must have demanded awe.
After Todaiji’s wartime destruction in 1180, the priest Chōgen, who had travelled to
China several times, convinced the shogun to rebuild the temple in the Chinese Song
style. Constructed by Japanese and Chinese sculptors and carpenters, Todaiji’s
architecture became known as the Great Buddha Style for the 15m tall Buddha inside
the main hall. The Great South Gate, or Nandaimon, holds two fierce guardian statues
that date, with the gate itself, to the late 12th century.
The Daibutsuden (Great
Buddha Hall)
The Great Buddha Style streamlined construction for the incredible scale of Todaiji’s
buildings. Identical blocks and increasingly long brackets stack on top of each other,
making connections simpler and allowing for mass-production of individual parts.
Stacked brackets also let loads transfer back to the columns without exerting much
pressure on the lateral ties that span the length of the buildings. Fascia runs under the
edge of the roof, removing the need for an additional layer of adornment. Open
ceilings simplified construction even further. The well-organized exposed brackets and
beams provide architectural flourish not
through irregularities or adornment but rather
by forming structural systems that are very
small compared to the overall buildings. The
difference in scale makes the orderly rows of
brackets and blocks appear intricately
detailed in themselves.
The Great Buddha Style of architecture on
the Nandaimon Gate
The Daibutsuden
Nandaimon Gate
13
In person, the Nandaimon gate is impressive. Huge columns extend to the roof. Every
other bracket arm in the almost endless stacks of brackets reaches back through the
supporting column and across the building; the alternate bracket arms end at the far
side of the thick columns. The guardian statues loom high above visitors, looking
dangerous. It takes several seconds to walk under the wide gate; the experience
encourages visitors to feel small.
The Daibutsuden is enormous, far bigger than I expected. Looking up at the ceiling
captures the feeling of the spires of stone cathedrals and of redwoods in an old growth
forest. It seems almost natural rather than man-made. It is dazzling that it reaches so
high, that the space inside is so big, but it leaves the impression that it could have
somehow grown there on its own, over time. The Buddha, too, is impressively large
and weighty. It makes the large braces that fill the hall look tiny and intricate, like frills
or icing on a cake.
Guardian statue in the Nandaimon Gate
Bracketing inside the Daibutsuden
The Great Buddha
Columns inside the Daibutsuden
14
Tō-ji (Kyō-ō-gokokuji Temple)
Date: 794 and onwards, most recently rebuilt 1644 (pagoda), 1603 (Kondō), 1596-1615
(Kōdō), 1380 (Miei-dō)
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
At first glance, Kyoto does not feel like an ancient capital. A modern and for the
most part not particularly attractive city, it tends to confuse foreign visitors who
expect geishas and tea ceremonies and temples to sweep them away from the
start. Emerging from the train station, a visitor finds gray buildings, convenience
stores, modern restaurants, and not a temple or a patch of green in sight.
Instead, the ancient parts of Kyoto are nestled deep into the modern chaos. The
effect is disconcerting, the transitions aggressive, and the sense of discovery, upon
unexpectedly wandering into an ancient shrine, magical.
Bracketing on the five-story pagoda
Sitting on the front steps outside Tōji temple, I looked across weathered stones, a
murky Koi pond, and a four lane street at closed store fronts and a King Pachinko
parlor, complete with flashing neon lights. The first sight of the greenery that stretched
over the walls behind me felt like finding an oasis in the middle of the surrounding
south-of-the-station grunge. Music drifted through the gate to mingle with the sound of
traffic.
Tōji’s famous five-story pagoda, the tallest in Japan at 187 ft, has burned down four
times from lightning strikes since its initial construction in 826. The most recent
reconstruction took place in 1644. In person, it rose dramatically above a graceful
garden and turtle pond. Along with every other
temple pagoda on the trip, it was unfortunately
closed to the public and could only be
experienced from the outside.
Lotus plants outside the main
The Kōndo, or Main Hall, smells wonderful—dry
complex
and woody, with a light breeze drifting in
between wall boards. The huge open room, tall
columns, and detailed ceiling latticework make entering the hall a calming
experience. The carved Buddha and attendants inside look majestic but
approachable; the room matches them in scale.
Inside the Kōdō, or Lecture Hall, rows of columns separate an outer corridor from a
higher-ceilinged inner area that fills much of the hall. Twenty-one Esoteric
Buddhist statues sit on a raised stage in this middle area. A vertical wooden
boundary extends a meter or two down from the ceiling between the interior
columns, marking the interior as sacred and important but letting the corridor areas
feel like places in their own right. Less intricate detailing and bright orange paint
make the sense of open space far less dramatic than in the Kōndo.
The Kōndo (foreground) and Kōdo
(background)
15
Elements: Wooden Joints
Elaborate bracket systems support temple roofs. Supports are
composed of beveled bearing blocks (masu) and bracket
arms (hijiki) joined in varyingly complicated arrangements.
Bearing blocks on top of columns are called large blocks
(daito) and those on top of bracket arms are called small
blocks (makito).9 In the simplest temples, beams rest
directly on brackets, while in the most complicated, dizzying
layers of blocks and brackets extend in several directions
from supports.
Wooden connections in a temple
in Tokyo
Column-bracket connections at Todaiji
(from Zwerger, according to Bunkazai)
9
The outward complexity, however, doesn’t begin to do
justice to the internal complexity of the joints. Bracket arms,
blocks, beams, columns, and railings are largely held
together without nails by intricate wooden connections,
hidden from view inside the individual members.10 Blocks
connect to supports through notched tenon joints. Railings
notch into columns before being secured with wedges.
Beam-column connections can become almost unbelievably
complex. A desire to keep connections vertically aligned
meant fitting joints inside columns, a complicated task when
four large beams arrive at a column together.11
The immensity of the carpentry skill required to build
temples astounds me. Constructing a temple complex such
as Todaiji, even with streamlined fabrication methods, meant
carving out the notched interiors of hundreds if not
thousands of blocks and notching columns to tightly hold
layer upon layer of bracket arms in several directions at
once. Everything had to be completed by hand, with chisels
and hand saws. Beams and columns were so large that
even the simple task of checking fit would have been
difficult. The end result is a giant temple held together
against gravity and earthquakes by the strength of wooden
members notched against each other. Each block and
bracket arm fit tightly together. Each intricately notched
beam-column connection balances joint strength against the
necessity of keeping the reduced members large enough to
withstand seismic forces and displacements.
Ibid
10
Zwerger, Klaus. Wood and Wood Joints: Building Traditions of Europe and Japan. Basel: Birkhauser, 2000.
11
Ibid
16
Methods for connecting blocks
to bracket arms (from Zwerger,
according to Bunkazai)
Temples II
Byodo-in
Date: Phoenix Hall, 1053
Location: Uji, Kyoto Prefecture
Pure Land Buddhism emerged in Japan during the Heian period,
growing in popularity so much so that the monk Honen founded an
official Pure Land sect in the 12th century. In contrast to other forms
of Buddhism, which emphasize the extreme difficulty of attaining
enlightenment, Pure Land Buddhism asserts that anyone can
achieve rebirth in the Western Paradise—a land full of Boddhisattvas
from which it is much easier to attain enlightenment—simply through
the devoted repetition of Amida Buddha’s name. Offering, in a
sense, a shortcut to enlightenment and a more accessible form of
Buddhist practice, it spread widely and is now the most popular form
of Buddhism in Japan.
A wing of the Phoenix Hall
Pure Land Buddhism first gained popularity among the nobility. Rich families began to convert their villas into Pure Land
temples and gardens to make Amida’s image continually accessible.12 One such temple,
Byodo-in, was constructed by the powerful Fujiwara clan for this purpose. The most
famous building in the complex, and the only to survive fires in the 14th century, is the
Hōdo, or Phoenix Hall. The Hall contains a large cypress statue of Amida, surrounded
by paintings of the Western Paradise and by 52 carved Boddhisattvas floating on clouds.
The bright, sumptuous colors that originally covered the now faded structural members
were designed to evoke the Paradise as well. In plan, the hall is designed to resemble a
phoenix, with corridors extending from the main room representing wings and a tail.
Roof detail
Lotus plants in front of the Phoenix Hall
The Phoenix Hall roof
12
Kazuo Nishi and Kazua Hozumi. What Is Japanese Architecture? Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1985
17
From the outside, the Hōdo has a huge, dominating presence. It instantly taught me, on my first day outside Tokyo, how
utterly different it feels to see an ancient building than to see a recent reconstruction of an ancient building. More than
simply conveying great age, its weathered wood, faded paint, and open corridors make it look fierce and tough. I could
picture it surviving as all the buildings around it burned down, a mythical beast looking out stolidly from behind its pond
and bracing itself for the future.
Inside the hall, Amida fills the room, glowing golden. Jocho, a master carver, built the Buddha from several pieces of
wood, covering joints with cloth and lacquer to make it look like a single form. As I stood just inside the door in the midst
of a swarm of visitors, Amida’s expression first looked impassive, as if he might grant us salvation but did not care much
either way; after several minutes of gazing up at him, he seemed to smile slightly. The room feels deeply focused on
contemplating the Buddha. He is too big for the room, too big to walk in the door, and the space around him appears
small from the inside. It gives the impression that the hall was built around him as he meditated calmly.
The Phoenix Hall, seen from across the pond, where members of the Fujiwara clan sat to contemplate Amida Buddha
18
Sanjusanjendō (Rengeō-in Temple)
Date: 1164, rebuilt 1266
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
Sanjusanjendō, or the Hall with 33 Bays, stretches roughly 120 meters long and holds 1001 statues of the Buddhist deity
Kannon. One thousand standing life-sized Kannons fill the hall on ascending steps, facing forward across its narrow
width. Hand carved out of Japanese cypress, they look almost identical but vary slightly upon closer inspection. One
larger than life-sized Kannon sits calmly in the middle of the hall. Each statue has 40 carved arms, and each arm can
save 25 worlds, representing the real deity’s thousand arms. A Thunder God, Wind God, and 28 guardian deities
accompany the rows of Kannons.
Columns divide the long, symmetrical hall into two outer corridors and a larger central area that all run lengthwise. The
top row of Kannons reaches nearly to the ceiling and separates the back corridor from the rest of the room. A peaked roof
over the central section connects to shallower roofs on the sides. The hall smells of old wood and feels immensely long
and narrow. An archery tournament used to take place along its length, and the thought of hitting a target at the distant far
end sounds impressively daunting.
Huge cross-beams separate the bays, and encourage a visitor to look
sideways at the Kannons rather than ahead down the length of the hall.
The beams are an excellent architectural nudge, as looking at the
Kannons is a stunning experience. The hall goes on for so long, and so
many calm Kannons look out over your head at the outer wall as you
slowly pass in front of them. One thousand feels like an immense
number. The audacity of the carving project impressed me deeply, as
did the idea that each deity has the power to save 1000 worlds.
The entire hall is built on layers of clay and
sand, isolating it against earthquake damage.
During an earthquake, the sand layers provide a
flexible horizontal surface while the clay layers
provide vertical stability, much like a modern
base isolation system. Signs also point out that
the wooden joints were intentionally designed to
be flexible to prevent earthquake damage.
Roof detail
The length of the hall
Moat around the layers of sand and clay
under the hall
19
The front of the hall
Kodai-ji
Date: 1605
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
A thatched moon-viewing pavilion rests calmly above the pond in Kodaiji’s stroll
garden. Further uphill, the Garyoro, or Reclining Dragon Corridor, curves
dramatically down a steep slope. Gold-plated lacquer-work decorates structural
elements in the sanctuary enshrining Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Kita-noMandokoro, Hideyoshi’s wife, who founded the temple after his death. Careful
joints and details fill the more recently reconstructed main hall, including an
intricate wooden ceiling lattice and open walls on three sides to allow visitors to
contemplate the garden.
Two tea houses reportedly designed by Sen-no-Rikyu, the master of tea
ceremony art and architecture, stand on top of a steep hill above the rest of the
temple. The tea houses, Kasa-tei and Shigure-tei, were moved to Kodaiji from
Kyoto’s Fushimi castle in the 17th century. Rikyu prepared and served tea in
small tea houses designed to enhance appreciation of the pure, natural elements
of tea ceremony. In both of Kodaiji’s tea houses, well-crafted details and
sections open to the outdoors give the relatively small spaces a feeling of calm.
Kasa-tei features a steep roof with a beautiful bamboo ceiling said to resemble a
traditional Japanese sun umbrella. The combination of its raised floor, steep,
overhanging roof, and angled shutters direct an occupant’s view down the steep
hillside. Sitting inside, high above the temple but also solidly connected to the
ground, must feel simultaneously liberating and comforting.
Kasa-teiʼs bamboo ceiling
Kasa-tei
The Reclining Dragon Corridor, from
above
Moon-viewing pavilion in the stroll garden
20
Nishi Honganji
Date: 1591, Goeido (Founder’s Hall) rebuilt 1636 and Amidado (Hall of Amida Buddha) rebuilt
1760
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
The head temple of the Jodo Shinshu
Buddhist tradition, Nishi Honganji dazzles
with opulence. The glamour builds slowly
as you walk in the large front gate. An
elaborate golden lantern glows in front of
the dark wood. Delicately carved wooden
panels and metalwork decorate the gate’s
surfaces. Outside the two large halls,
curved beams, intricate connections, and
gold-plated lacquer-work offer a taste of
what will follow. A raised walkway connects
the Founder’s Hall and the Hall of Amida
Buddha. Structural members end in carved
flowers and elephant heads.
View from the Amidado towards the Goeido
The walkway between the two halls
Inside the Amidado, or Hall of Amida
Buddha, the detail is too much to take in all
at once. Layer upon layer reveals itself as you sit and gaze about the hall.
The altar area, taking up almost a third of the room behind a row of goldplated columns, glows golden. Adornment covers each part of each
intricately constructed element. Ridges embellish nail cover plates;
paintings line the wall. The back and sides of the room are much simpler.
White panels form the top half of the walls; rice paper on dark wooden
lattices fills the space below, partly as sliding doors. Columns around the
edge of the hall are smaller and more frequent than those in the middle.
Kuro-mon Gate
Lacquerwork on the Amidado
Front gate detail
21
Tatami mats line the floor, making the room smell
wonderful. Large columns divide the hall into three
sections, each with a large golden lamp casting a
glowing circle of light on the tatami mats below.
Nearly everyone praying kneels in the large central
circle.
Entering the hall feels something like stumbling upon
a clearing in a forest to discover a festival in full swing
and sitting down inside the clearing to watch. The
front glows so elaborately that the walls behind and to
the side almost disappear. Your focus is directed
forward, but you are included in the festivities as well
through the circle of light that surrounds you.
Entering doesn’t feel momentous, but once you are
inside, the hall wraps you up and the outside world at
your back fades away.
Inside the Amidado, back wall
Front hallway of the Amidado
Worshippers inside the Amidado
22
Elements: Gardens
Japanese gardens taught me the value of exploring without regret. Paths fork, change directions, and curve back into
themselves continuously, making systematic exploration impossible. Walking along meandering stepping stones, you find
yourself choosing between a path that curls uphill towards a tea house and one that leads down to a stone bridge over a
pond. Exploring the edge of a stream means missing an ancient pine tree. An attempt to cover every path in a large stroll
garden would both make a person crazy and ruin the experience from the start.
Instead, the intricate gardens are best wandered quietly, impulsively, and with a willingness to experience the garden’s
beauty as it unfolds. Designed for long term contemplation, these gardens have much to show visitors willing to walk
slowly, focus on the path at hand, and stop from time to time to examine the moss or a rock in a stream. They capture a
more tightly wound version of nature than nature itself would ever create, perhaps a bonsai version of nature. Intricate
details layer on top of each other. Symmetry is aggressively avoided. Stone paths never provide steps that make it clear
where you should put your feet. The gardens tame the natural world into something more detailed, without the natural
moments of open space: a clearing around a tree, an empty pond, or a meadow filled with dry grass.
The combination of intricacy and divergent paths fills garden exploration with a heightened sense of discovery. If you pay
enough attention you stumble upon unexpected details. A tree branch dips down to touch the path. The water from a
spring turns pebbles red as it trickles toward a pond. A heron alights on a rock. Garden architecture complements these
experiences, letting the unexpected sight of a gracefully curved rafter or a tiny shrine or a window that frames tree
branches feel like a rare discovery.
The garden at Kinkaku-ji villa in Kyoto
23
Villas
Rich families often invested vast resources in designing and constructing elaborate villas, both for private use and for
business. Upper class Japanese families tended to value high quality architecture and had the means to make lofty
architectural concepts a reality. They also built structures to last. As a result, their villas serve as some of the bestpreserved and most fully realized examples of past architectural eras.
Ginkaku-ji villa in Kyoto
24
Katsura Rikyu Imperial Villa (Katsura Detached Palace)
Date: 1615-1650s or 1660s, probably remodeled since
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
The Sukiya style perhaps best
captures popular images of
traditional Japanese architecture.
In Sukiya, tatami mats, shōji
screens, and rough wooden
members create an intricate yet
understated living space, presenting
carefully planned views of the
outside world. Developed in the
16th and 17th centuries, Sukiya
Bamboo roof detail
melded formal Shoin residential
architecture and tea ceremony art
and architecture into the design of elegant places for the
nobility to spend their daily lives.
A teahouse and bridge in the garden
Many see Katsura Imperial Villa as the finest example of
traditional Sukiya architecture. Built in the 17th century as
an alternate residence for the Hachijonomiya family, it
consists of one main structure—which includes the Old
Shoin, Middle Shoin, Music Room, and New Palace—five
tea houses, and an intricate pond, all nestled into a formal
garden. The tea houses have appropriately whimsical
names: Tower of Moonlit Waves (Geppa-ro), Pavilion of
the Lute in the Pines (Shokin-tei), Pavilion of Admired
Blossoms (Shoka-tei), Hall of the Garden Forest (Onrindo), and Hut of Smiling Thoughts (Shoi-ken).13
Meandering paths guide visitors along irregular stepping
stones and present ever-changing views of the garden and
pond.
While slow rambling and contemplation would best suit the
villa, regimented tours—which must be arranged in
advance—are required. Visitors cannot pause between
official tour stops or walk on any but the designated path.
The continual sense of visual delight makes it hard to
accept the impossibility of exploring at your own pace.
13
View from a room in the main building
Ibid
25
Lovely details fill the spaces. In one tea house, although the roof beam is supported at its ends, a curved branch stretches
to the middle of the beam as if providing structural support, giving the impression of lightness. Another room is designed
so that windows on adjacent walls present two completely different views, one of water and one of land. At the end of a
path that extends into the pond, a large pine tree deliberately blocks the view, preventing visitors from seeing the entire
villa; the tree ensures that people will discover the views gradually as they explore.
The tea houses have open walls, and feel more like places to stop and contemplate the garden than buildings separate
from it. Construction details—thatched roofs, wooden joints, and stone bridges—combine with the detail of the surrounding
garden to make nearly everything appear intricately layered. In the midst of this beauty, the windows and doors of the
buildings frame views of their own, providing an additional layer of experience.
A curved branch makes the ceiling look light
A pine tree intentionally blocks a complete view of the
garden
View of the garden from the main building
26
Elements: Wood
Wood and related products—paper, straw, and bamboo—have pervaded Japanese
architecture since ancient times. While stones and similar materials played a dominant
role in architecture throughout much of the world, in Japan they served largely as
foundations. The importance of wood accounts for the frequency of destruction as well
as the feasibility of repeated rebuilding projects. Wood grows, ages, burns, and grows
again. Tatami mats are replaced at regular intervals. Shōji screens do not last forever.
The presence of the wooden products themselves matters deeply as well. Rooms feel
warm and light even without windows. The details of tatami mats, trellises, and shōji
screens add a calming layer of texture to traditional buildings.
A naturally curved member acts as both a
column and a beam
Wood favors certain structural forms and construction techniques over others. The
simplest wooden buildings have column and beam structural systems, which serve as the dominant system in traditional
Japanese architecture. The lack of load-bearing walls associated with these structures allows for great openness and
adaptability of space, with moveable shōji screens and wall panels in turn dividing and opening rooms.14 Wood does not
lend itself to arches or circles; buildings tend to follow rectangular forms, both in plan and elevation. Rectangular tatami
mats and shōji screens complement this tendency, adding a sense of coherence to Japanese rooms. As a material,
wood’s adaptability encourages the intricately notched joints and tight connections that fill Japanese buildings as well as
the carvings and lattices that adorn them.
Cross-bracing is notably almost entirely absent from traditional Japanese architecture. Instead, columns and beams act
as elaborate moment frames, carrying lateral loads solely through rotational stiffness in notched wooden joints. The
resulting flexibility of the structures reduces forces and accelerations in the buildings during earthquakes.
The natural shapes and sizes of wooden materials have a large impact on Japanese
construction as well. Mighty trees become columns which run the entire height of castles,
pagodas, and halls, holding the structures together during
earthquakes. Beams that naturally curve upwards
accommodate vertical deflections and provide architectural
flourish. Buildings often incorporate uncut, meandering
branches into their structure, adding a welcome irregularity
and connection to nature to otherwise orderly structural
systems. Bamboo and straw add intricate detail that would
not emerge naturally in stone buildings.
Inside Himeji castle
14
The natural upward camber of Horyujiʼs roof
beams makes them ideal supports for vertical
loads
Nowhere did I feel the presence of wood more deeply than in Japanese castles. Wood fills
the buildings—columns, beams, floorboards, trim, wedges, panels—oiled and dark and smooth.
Rough-cut beams complement carefully notched window trim. Columns reach mightily
between floors. The memory of trees is kept alive in the larger members, which retain much
of their original shape and structure. The size and pervasiveness of the wood that fills castles
makes their rooms warm and sturdy and soft in a way that stone castles could never achieve.
This style of architecture will probably never happen again, but it is wonderful to experience.
Ibid
27
Castles
Castles existed in Japan at least as early as the 8th century, and wartime structures were constructed even earlier.15 Site
conditions evolved over time. Initially, castles were built on mountaintops for defense, but trade considerations eventually
led feudal lords to construct castles in open areas, either on a hill above a plain or on the plain itself.
Shogunal control declined rapidly in the 15th century as provincial families fought each other and became increasingly
powerful. Civil wars swept the country from the mid-15th to 16th century. Daimyo, or local feudal lords, ruled over their
own territories without outside control. They also built castles, which spread across Japan during this time; close to 100
significant castles were built between 1596 and 1615 alone.16
The three ambitious men credited with unifying Japan ruled successively during this period. Oda Nobunaga, famous for
his ruthlessness, took over Kyoto in 1568, installed a shogun as a figurehead, and ruled behind the scenes, expanding his
realm of power for the next several years.17 After his death in 1582 one of his generals, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, successfully
maneuvered to rule behind an infant shogun. Hideyoshi continued to increase central control through battles and
alliances until his death in 1598 18. After a power struggle, he was succeeded as behind-the-scenes-ruler by one of his
advisors, Tokugawa Ieyasu, whose family ruled Japan for the next two and a half centuries. In 1615, the year before he
died, Ieyasu introduced laws prohibiting new castle construction,19 allowing only one castle per domain (requiring the
destruction of others),20 and requiring shogunal approval for castle repairs.21 This effectively halted castle construction
outside the capital.
Matsumoto castle
15
Ibid
16
Coaldrake, William H. Architecture and Authority in Japan. London: Routeledge, 1996.
17
Henshall, Kenneth G. A History of Japan. New York; St. Martinʼs Press, Inc., 1999.
18
Ibid
19
Ibid
20
Kazuo Nishi and Kazua Hozumi. What Is Japanese Architecture? Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1985.
21
Henshall, Kenneth G. A History of Japan. New York; St. Martinʼs Press, Inc., 1999.
28
Himeji-jo
Date: 1609
Location: Himeji, Hyogo Prefecture
Himeji, known as Shirasagi or White Egret Castle for its white plaster walls, is often referred to as the most magnificent or
most elegant of the surviving Japanese castles. Four elaborate towers, a maze of gates and corridors, and elaborate
ornamentation argue the point. A visitor could easily spend days exploring the winding paths, gazing out windows,
running a hand along the smoothed wooden windowsills, and ducking into dark corners. I found myself wanting to stay for
months.
Fortresses have existed on the site—an important travel route during the medieval era—since the 14th century, and
Toyotomi Hideyoshi built a castle there in 1581. After assuming power, Tokugawa Ieyasu installed his son to rule there,
partly to weaken Hideyoshi’s son’s connections to rulers in western Japan; Ieyasu’s son destroyed the existing castle and
reused its materials in Himeji-jo’s construction from 1601-1609.
The main donjon
29
The five story (plus a sixth floor below ground)
main donjon rises 31m above a 45m hill,
overlooking three smaller towers, numerous
corridors, gates, and turrets, and a
surrounding moat. Two huge central columns
—one built from a single tree trunk—run through
the tower, echoing the central columns found
in pagodas and tying the castle together for
defense against earthquakes. Originally, highlevel residences, a second moat, additional
residences, and a third moat extended out
from the existing complex.
The castle grounds are designed for defense.
Circuitous routes force invaders to travel far
further than would be expected before
reaching the main donjon and provide ample
opportunities for defensive action. Ni No Maru
Gate, for example, offers a large, reassuring
entryway and then bends in the middle, forcing
attackers into a narrow exit space and leaving
them crowded and vulnerable.22
The main donjon, roof detail
Foundation detail
The main donjon
22
Coaldrake, William H. Architecture and Authority in Japan. London: Routeledge, 1996.
30
At the same time, the castle was clearly
designed as a symbol of power as well as a
fortress, and flamboyant details fill its towers
and corridors. The gun and arrow holes that
line the walls have shapes that alternate
between squares, circles, rectangles, and
triangles. Ornamented gables and windows
and the white plaster that covers the castle
give an overall impression of refinement.
Decorative metal plates cover nail heads in the
main Donjon, and are gold plated at the top
level.
Himeji was my first Japanese castle and my
first wooden castle. It bowled me over. I
visited in the rain, and padding through the
long residential corridors in bare feet, carrying
my shoes and umbrella in plastic bags,
combined the comfort of drinking hot chocolate
with the excitement of entering an imaginary
world. I trailed my hands along the dark walls,
felt notched wooden joints, slid window panels,
watched thick beams curving over my head,
and walked into room after dark room, smelling
the rain through the barred windows. Outside,
the roof tiles shot rainfall directly into perfectly
placed tile gutters embedded in the ground
along the side of the path.
Gun/arrow holes in the castle wall
A gun hole
The first floor of the main donjon
31
Inside the main donjon: large window ledges provide shooting platforms as well as
hiding places below
View from a window in an upper level of the main donjon
In the main Donjon, steep, thick staircases led us from the dark, wide lower levels to increasingly broad views of the
smaller towers and the surrounding landscape. Stone-dropping holes and hiding places for soldiers fill the wall spaces
between sturdy columns; open interiors provide room for people and goods. The tower has few interior walls, and each
level acts largely as a giant open room. I could picture armies and ammunition packed into the lower levels, but it felt
comforting despite the image. Huge, dark wood surrounded me, feeling warm and smooth under my feet.
View of Himeji-jo from across the courtyard
32
Matsumoto-jo
Date: c. 1596
Location: Matsumoto, Nagano Prefecture
Only twelve original castles survive in Japan today. The oldest, Maruoka-jo, was
constructed in Fukui Prefecture in 1576. The second oldest, Matsumoto-jo, dates
to circa 1596 and stands in a flat plain with a view of the Japan Alps.23 A three
story tower, two story turret, and moon-viewing pavilion connect to the five story
main donjon, all sharing one stone foundation.24
View from across the moat
Matsumoto-jo is built using distinctly older construction methods than those of later
castles. Small, closely spaced columns, infrequent windows, and irregular,
exposed roof beams suggest a more practical, less showy approach to castle
construction. Columns show the dappled marks of adzes rather than smoothly
finished surfaces. The stone foundation has a shallower slant than later castles.
The exterior features flourishes clearly designed to impress, but the interior feels
straightforward and functional. Perhaps because the castle stands on a plain
rather than a hill, upon reaching the top you find yourself exactly as high as you
expected to be.
Inside the main donjon
Matsumoto-jo
An adze-marked column
The stone foundation
23
Kazuo Nishi and Kazua Hozumi. What Is Japanese Architecture? Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1985.
24
Ibid
33
Matsue-jo
Date: 1611
Location: Matsue, Shimane Prefecture
Entering at the base and winding up through several wide, dark, largely windowless castle
floors made emerging from the staircase into Matsue-jo’s top floor an exhilarating
experience. Newcomers grinned, blinked, and called out in surprise. Big open windows
line the sides, and the relatively small floor area makes it impossible to ever feel far from
a window. Sunlight and a breeze filled the space. It was startling to realize how far
above everything we had come, and how bright and beautiful the world was. Matsue-jo
felt like the ultimate tower, carrying us from the solid ground below to an open room far
above a hill that itself rises far above the
surrounding city.
Below, the castle felt warm and wood-filled and
dark, with an appealing combination of rough-cut
and smoothly finished components. Extensive
use of metal ties set Matsue-jo apart from
Himeji-jo and Matsumoto-jo. Many large interior
columns were built from several smaller columns
tied together with metal brackets and straps, a
creative approach to obtaining members large
enough for castle construction.
Matsue-jo behind a castle wall
A curved beam in a lower story
Metal straps tie smaller
members together to
form a large column
The top floor of the tower
View from the top floor
34
Elements: Tatami Mats
Perhaps more than anything else, tatami mats filled my experiences of Japanese buildings. I spent hours walking and
sitting on them, sleeping on them, and staring at them while thinking about something else. They filled temples, villas, tea
houses, restaurants, ryokans, and hostels. They change the tone of rooms and the way people enter buildings: visitors
leave their shoes at the entrance and pad forward softly in socks or bare feet.
Tatami mats brighten floors and add soft lines as well as the deep colors of their fabric borders. They mark off space,
dividing floors into sections of regular sizes. In Shoin and other formal architecture, tatami mat dimensions—roughly 1m by
2m—dictate room sizes and column spacings, tying rooms together with a sense of coherent proportion. Today, many
rooms still conform to tatami dimensions, and people discuss room sizes in terms of the number of tatami mats they
contain.
They also add a sensual element to the experience of being in a room. Their give and slight softness and the feeling of
their woven surface beneath bare feet makes walking and sitting on them a pleasure. They smell amazing. Entering a
room can feel like being suddenly surrounded by fresh straw: clean and comforting and invigorating. Of all the smells in all
the rooms I have visited, this is the one I would most like to have filling my own home.
Tatami mats at Daitoku-ji temple in Kyoto
35
Residential Architecture
Aside from rich families’ villas, little traditional residential architecture remains in Japan. Middle class and poor families’
houses were not intended to last many centuries, and the vast majority has been destroyed over the years. A few
preserved districts and houses, however, offer glimpses of the daily life of merchants, samurai, and farmers.
36
Sanmachi district
Date: Late 16th-17th century
Location: Takayama, Gifu Prefecture
The preserved Sanmachi district provides a glimpse of what
the castle town of Takayama must have felt like 400 years
ago. Water flows through stone drainage channels along
each side of the streets, covered at times by small walkways
and bridges. Buildings are similar in form—dark wood, long
storefronts, shōji screens, bamboo shades, and wooden
lattices—but unique in detail. Members of the flourishing
merchant class, officially ranked lower than daimyo, samurai,
and government officials, were prohibited from having two
story storefronts in order to prevent them from looking down
on higher ranked citizens.25 Overhangs that extend above the
first story and above an open roof area, however, give the
buildings the illusion of having two stories. Morning glories
climb the trellises, their purple flowers and green leaves
contrasting beautifully with the dark wood.
Wooden storefronts and stone drainage channels
Tall single stories with an extra overhang at mid-level let merchants show off their wealth without breaking a
law prohibiting them from building two story structures
25
Young, David. Introduction to Japanese Architecture. Singapore: Periplus, 2004.
37
Straw balls designate sake breweries
Kakunodate samurai district
Date: 17th century
Location: Kakunodate, Akita Prefecture
A 17th century castle town, Kakunodate moved from a
slightly more northerly site to its present location after
numerous floods, fires, and other inauspicious events.
Its beautiful samurai district was perhaps the greenest
neighborhood I visited in Japan, with lush gardens and
trees spilling high over dark wooden fences and gates.
The samurai residences are designed to be
adaptable. Wooden doors slide across porches,
wooden blinds prop open, and shōji screens can
transform interior spaces. Smooth tracks for sliding
walls and panels fill the houses. Rooms can change
smoothly from enclosed, subdivided interior spaces
into breezy open areas with only a roof overhead.
Layering creates an engaging visual environment.
Tatami mats cover most floors, wooden floorboards
others. Rooms, doorways and openings are offset,
creating a complicated display of lines which slide
past each other as you walk by. The dominance of
rectangular forms and dimensions based on tatami
mats provide a sense of coherence. It would be a
pleasure to live in such a place.
Kakunodate
Samurai house, with sliding wood panels
38
Samurai house interior
Traditional Farmhouses (Open air museum of
old Japanese farmhouses, Hida-no-Sato)
Date: 17th-19th centuries
Location: Toyonaka, Osaka Prefecture and Takayama, Gifu Prefecture
Roof interior
Farmhouse
Two outdoor museums have collected and restored Edo-era farmhouses
for the purpose of historical preservation. The Open-Air Museum of Old
Japanese Farmhouses, outside Osaka, contains structures from throughout Japan, while
Takayama’s Hida-no-Sato features houses from the surrounding mountainous region. Both
keep traditional fires burning in many of the houses, and in Hida-no-Sato, volunteers perform
traditional tasks such as splitting wood to make shingles. Visitors can wander through the
immaculately preserved houses, imagining life in an earlier time.
Design varies according to region.
Weather, terrain, and livelihood dictate both
large scale layout and construction details.
An L-shaped floor plan for a horse-breeding
family in Iwate Prefecture was designed to
allow the family to watch the horses—
Siding detail
stabled across a dirt floor but under the
same roof—from the central fire. A house
constructed along a mountainside in Shiiba, Miyazaki Prefecture has
windowless back walls with wooden siding to protect against falling
rocks and landslides. In Akiyama, Nagano Prefecture, thatched walls
protect against the cold. The difficulty of obtaining and constructing
wooden walls and the fact that mud walls would become soft as snow
melted in the spring made using easily replaceable thatching the most
effective option. A takakura, or elevated granary, from Kagoshima
Prefecture stands far off the ground to protect against humidity and
mice.
39
Thatched walls protect a Nagano Prefecture house from cold
weather
In Gifu Prefecture, certain families had large, steep-roofed attics above firststory living quarters to accommodate silkworm production. This style of roof is
known as the gassho-zukuri, or hands-in-prayer, style, as it resembles the steep
peak of hands held together during prayer. Inside the roof area, huge half-round
braces span diagonally across the roof trusses from the outer corners to the
center of the ridgeline. Rope and thick vines tie members tightly together at all
connections. Since the big members are constructed from tree trunks, they
taper towards the top of the roof, nicely echoing the structural demand. Unlike
many of the dark living areas, these huge roof spaces feel airy and refreshing
despite having windows only at the ends.
Most houses have thick thatched roofs, cut off cleanly at the lower edge, but
some Gifu Prefecture houses have shingled roofs. Shingles are piled rather
than nailed onto the roofs in layers, overlapping from above. Wooden slats tied
to roof beams lie on top of the shingles, and large stones sit untied on top of the
upper slats for protection against the wind. From a structural engineering
perspective this raises obvious earthquake-related concerns: either the stones
will fall off dangerously during an earthquake or they will increase the seismic
demand on the rest of the structure.
A gassho-zukuri house from Gifu Prefecture
Roof interior of a gassho-zukuri house
Central, slow-burning fires warm the houses,
protect against insects, and act as stoves
below hanging pots. They fill the rooms with a
smoky haze. Dark wood and limited windows
make the rooms away from doorways
extremely dark. Houses are often tied rather
than nailed together, demonstrating great
adeptness at using rope, vines, and notched
wood to construct tight, durable connections.
Elaborate bamboo grids fasten to the roof
framing to provide a solid base for thatching.
Stones line a roof to hold down shingles
Roof detail
Interior, with hearth and cooking pot at left
40
Elements: Layers, Detail, Materials
Traditional Japanese construction demonstrates an extremely high level of craft and attention to detail. Wooden brackets
fit tightly together without visible gaps. Raised castle floor beams notch around columns at both ends. Bamboo under a
thatched roof is installed so that natural joints align. This results in well-made architecture that works both when you first
walk in the door and as you study the details.
This tradition flourishes in modern Japan. In high-end construction projects, developers appear extremely willing to invest
in high quality craft and materials. Exposed joints look beautiful. Concrete cuts off smoothly half an inch back from all
sides of an x-shaped steel column. Glass façades connect to concrete columns with appealing, well-oiled steel bolts.
Welds all but disappear. Concrete can be strikingly more beautiful in Japan than anywhere else I have visited. Perfect
formwork and a soft, polished finish make it possible to feel warm and comfortable when surrounded by concrete walls.
As a result, structural systems are often highly visible in Japanese buildings. In traditional buildings, “decoration tends to
embellish rather than disguise basic construction.”26 Newer buildings have continued this tradition: exposed joints and
bolts add to the architectural experience, welds do not need to be hidden from view, and concrete frequently and
successfully serves as façade as well as structural system. Echoing the wooden structures of traditional buildings, steel
and concrete members act as both structure and architecture. This simplifies construction by reducing the need for nonstructural façades and adornments. It also lets the structural systems show off their own beauty.
Steel column and concrete ceiling at the Pola Art Museum,
Hakone
Exposed bolt at Tazawa-ko Station
26
Kazuo Nishi and Kazua Hozumi. What Is Japanese Architecture? Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1985.
41
Museums (and an Aquarium)
Museums fill Japanese towns and cities. In addition to art, science, and archeological museums, interested visitors can
find a Tobacco and Salt Museum, a Coal Mine Museum, a Ramen Museum, and a Japanese Overseas Migration
Museum, among others. This abundance presents excellent opportunities for architectural innovation. Museums,
aquariums, and other public works can incorporate unusual architecture with a strong impact on visitors. People can
explore museums that intentionally make them feel strange, overwhelmed, or dazzled and then return to the calmer
residential and work spaces where they spend much of their lives. For the most part, the modern Japanese museums I
visited lived up to this potential splendidly.
42
Tokyo Sea Life Park
Architect: Yoshio Taniguchi
Date: 1989
Location: Tokyo
Walking from the train station to the site is an integral part of
experiencing Tokyo Sea Life Park. The entry dome peaks
above trees and buildings, and glimpses of Tokyo Bay
generate excitement at what is to come. This finally
culminates in a splendid moment walking up the steps to the
plaza in front of the dome to find wide pools of churning
water surrounding it, almost blending in with the bay
behind them. It is difficult not to grin and happily
anticipate seeing and learning about a multitude of sea
animals. Tents stretched on a lower level behind one of
the water pools look like sails on the water, adding to
the sense of fun.
Tents behind the water pools mimic sails
Entering the dome and riding the escalator down into
the aquarium feels like descending underwater;
underneath, quite logically, are fish and other sea
creatures. The route emerges outside below the entry
plaza, a reminder of the proximity of the real
ocean. On the way out, a rambling exit path
follows a stream and passes several ponds.
Experiencing the change in perspective from
looking down on the stream to entering a small
building for a sideways view of the fish
swimming inside, visitors cannot help but make
the connection that the natural world
surrounding us is full of excitement and
discovery.
The entry dome, across water pools
Four pictures above: Approaching the entry dome
Tents outside the aquariumʼs lower level
43
Nima Sand Museum
Architect: Shin Takamatsu
Date: 1990
Location: Nima, Shimane Prefecture
The Nima sand museum playfully
tackles the subjects of sand, time,
glass, and the scale of the universe.
An hourglass—purportedly the largest
in the world—times out yearlong
intervals while suspended from the
ceiling by an elaborate mechanical
system that turns it over every New
Year’s Day. Smaller hourglasses fill
the museum, measuring out
whimsical intervals such as the time
it takes sunlight to reach the earth.
A video demonstrates how sand was
View of the pyramids from the approach to the museum
transformed into the glass in the
mighty hourglass. Microscopes and
samples allow visitors to examine the dramatic variety of sand around the world.
Museum entrance
The architecture complements the fun and the educational themes. Six steelframed, glass-plated pyramids rise out of the roof, letting in light and drawing
visitors’ attention upwards. A sand-filled, circular exterior area greets visitors
through a glass wall as they enter the museum. The pyramids, which struck
me as potentially silly in advance, work well, albeit mostly symbolically. They
straightforwardly evoke the Egyptian pyramids, massive limestone structures
rising out of the desert. Instead of forming pyramids of rock, sand has been
reformatted into glass for the Sand Museum’s pyramids. They still serve as
an example of structure rising out of constituent materials in the surrounding
landscape.
The ancient pyramids are a perfect
symbol for humanity’s massive,
lasting imprint on a landscape
profoundly more massive and
lasting. Over the course of time,
they will eventually return to sand,
and theoretically into glass as well.
Sand-filled area outside the museum, with a view
of the Japan Sea
Year-long hourglass
44
Gallery of Horyuji Treasures
Architect: Yoshio Taniguchi
Date: 1999
Location: Tokyo
Japanese Buddhism and politics have historically
had a tumultuous relationship. Early Emperors
used Buddhism to spread their own power, while
others saw politically powerful Buddhist sects as a
threat. Buddhism’s political power in the Nara era
probably contributed to the decision to move the
capital to present-day Kyoto in 794. Oda
Nobunaga, the first of the great Japanese unifiers,
sought to stamp out uprisings by massacring
Buddhist priests in the 16th century.27 Less than
100 years later, people were forced into Buddhism
to prove that they were not Christians.
Exterior
In the Meiji era, which began in 1868, the government
sought to establish Shinto as the state religion, shoving
Exterior, with three overlapping boxes
Buddhism aside while pursuing a course of rapid
westernization and modernization. Many older buildings were destroyed, including Buddhist
temples and monasteries. Horyuji temple, the oldest surviving temple in Japan, acted to
protect its ancient treasures, donating them to the Imperial house in 1878. After over a
century out of the public view, the treasures now have a permanent home in the Gallery of
Horyuji Treasures, part of the Tokyo National Museum complex.
Floor detail
After a walk across a wide, flat pool of gently flowing water, entering the museum involves
entering three successive box-shaped spaces, all of which are visible from the outside. From
the outside the building looks open and airy, with the outermost box an open roof that extends
over the entrance area, supported by slender
columns. Under this roof, the front door leads into a
light-filled, open atrium. A final entryway leads to
the galleries, which are kept extremely dark in order
to preserve the treasures. The overall design
makes the galleries and the treasures they contain
feel protected and far from the outside world. High
ceilings and extensive open space in the galleries
add to the feeling of sacredness. The experience is
that of finding a wide underground cave after
tunneling through the earth for some time; a silence
and dark stillness covers everything.
Inside the atrium
Looking out from the atrium
27
Henshall, Kenneth G. A History of Japan. New York; St. Martinʼs Press, Inc., 1999.
45
21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art
Architect: SANAA
Date: 2004
Location: Kanazawa, Ishikawa Prefecture
Perhaps more than any other building, the 21st Century Museum made me appreciate the
importance of seeing architecture in person. Photographs make the blocks rising out of the
circular museum look abrupt, unconnected to the glass exterior, and make the glass itself
look dark and reflective rather than ephemeral. Reading the museum’s website before the
trip, I had trouble accepting the claim that the massive glass circle surrounding the galleries
could “effectively mitigate the scale of the project and an overly grand presence common to
large institutions.”28
In person, as I circled the museum on a gray-skied rainy afternoon, everything worked
brilliantly. The rectangular gallery spaces that emerged through the roof looked soft and
connected and moved past each other in interesting ways as I walked by. The transparent
glass made the interior spaces outside the galleries an appealing transition space, offering
a way to move another layer closer to the exhibits without feeling enclosed. The people
inside the glass drew my gaze. They walked between two worlds, in the museum
physically but outside visually. Inside the glass, the white walls of the exhibition spaces
looked indefinite as well. The lack of sharp transition made the museum blend into the
surrounding park, drawing the outside in.
Inside, the museum felt surprisingly spacious. The outer corridors reconnected us to the
park, drawing our attention outwards. Inner corridors laced dramatically between galleries,
offering views of interior gardens and ceilings open to the sky.
An open courtyard
between galleries
28
An interior corridor
http://www.kanazawa21.jp/data_list.php?g=35&d=1&lng=e
One of the museum entrances
46
Exterior, with a view of people inside
Inside the glass circle but outside the
galleries
Suntory Museum of Art
Architect: Kengo Kuma
Date: 2007
Location: Tokyo
Repeating vertical wooden slats fill the entry area and
much of the museum, covering walls and ceilings.
They encourage you to look around, walk slowly. The
effect of repeating narrow elements is lovely; above
and to the side, thin wooden lines divide dark
intermediate space, while in the distance the slats
merge into continuous rows of wood. Oiled paulownia
and oak make the museum warm and comfortable. A
light-filled, open stairway separates dark galleries on
two floors. The large open space and glowing wood
surrounding the stairs make you feel almost as though
you are walking outside before returning to the calm,
protected museum once again.
Outside the museum, looking in
Inside the galleries
Stairway between the galleries
47
Entering the museum
Elements: Competing for Attention
Buildings in Japanese cities—especially Tokyo—must compete
fiercely to stand out. High building density and a general willingness
to invest in flashy architecture raise the price of glory to impressive
levels. Skyscrapers in Tokyo’s Shinjuku district begin to look normal,
making smaller buildings appear insignificant. From above, lines of
skyscrapers trace out busy streets across the jumble of gray
buildings almost as if outlining gigantic city blocks. The city itself
stretches to the horizon in almost all directions, only occasionally
interrupted by a patch of green.
The most unique competition comes not from tall buildings but from
the glitzy buildings that line Tokyo’s shopping districts of Ginza and
Omotesando. Dramatic structures and shimmering facades begin to
blur together. A huge rotating sign on top of a 10 story building
remains inconspicuous. A tall, shining glass cylinder looks
commonplace.
In this environment, it is often the odd and unexpected that succeed
in standing out: a building with rounded windows rising like bubbles
up a smooth concrete façade; another covered in diamond-shaped
glass panels; and a cylinder rising from a pointed block at a busy
intersection, extending cantilevered offices like tree limbs. When I
visited Ginza, the most successful attention-grabber by far was a
temporary aquarium tank set up outside the Sony building. The
flashiness of the fish, and their placement at ground level in a tiny
plaza, offered a striking change from the surrounding bustle of
shopping and tall buildings. People caught their breath at the
unexpected sight, and stopped to look.
An aquarium outside the Sony building lures visitors
48
View of Tokyo from above
Modern
Japan’s vibrant modern architecture scene incorporates world famous architects, investment in innovation, and
widespread collaboration between architects, engineers, and contractors. The highly seismic environment also makes
Japan one of the most interesting places in the world to study earthquake engineering, both in academia and in practice.
Japanese cities revealed a variety of modern architectural styles and an exciting array of innovative structures.
49
Nakagin Capsule Tower
Architect: Kisho Kurokawa
Date: 1972
Location: Tokyo
In the Metabolist movement of the 1960s, several Japanese
architects joined forces to grapple with Japan’s rapid urbanization.
They sought to develop large-scale architecture that could respond
organically to the continually evolving city of the future, changing as
the city changed and adapting to future needs.
The Nakagin Capsule Tower epitomizes this vision. It is comprised
of 140 identical, prefabricated, 2.5 x 2.5 x 4 meter capsules that
cantilever in all directions from two reinforced concrete towers.
Each capsule is designed as an apartment or studio and has built-in
basic furnishings and a single round window. Kurokawa envisioned
a society with many such towers. Instead of moving their
belongings, people could move to a new location simply by
View from the west
disconnecting their capsule from one tower and plugging it into a
tower somewhere else. Each capsule is connected to the central tower with four hightension bolts,29 making the removal and replacement of individual capsules possible.
View from the south, with highway
The greater vision never took hold, largely due to the impracticality and expense of building towers
and transporting apartments across the city. Recently, residents dissatisfied with living conditions in
the capsules voted to tear down the building and replace it with a modern apartment complex,
setting off disputes with those who favor its preservation.
Visiting the towers after seeing numerous
pictures and descriptions, the capsules still
shocked me. Even in a highly compact
View from the west, with
society, they seem aggressively small. In
pictures they look almost rounded and soft, highway
but in reality they are sharp little boxes.
Grunge abounds. Drip marks stain the capsules and
newspapers cover several windows. The immediate
environment does not help; a highway slashes in front of the
building, making access confusing and giving certain capsules
views of nothing but passing cars. I cannot imagine living there.
Detail
29
As a symbol, or a sculpture, the building is fantastic. It not only
exemplifies Metabolism through removable apartments, it looks
like a living organism, perhaps a mutant organism. The capsules
seem to bulge out wherever they can find room; the towers rise
of their own accord out of the gray city like mushrooms.
www.kisho.co.jp
50
Tokyo Metropolitan Government Offices
Architect: Kenzo Tange
Date: 1991
Location: Tokyo
For the most part, I have not been much excited by tall buildings. As an
engineer, I recognize them as impressive structural feats, but I have generally
found that even dramatically designed tall buildings do not hold up well in
person. The scale is too far from human scale, perhaps. They are very tall, but
not so nice to find yourself in or around.
While its 48 stories certainly remove it from an approachable human scale, the
Tokyo Metropolitan Government building presents an appealing and dignified
approach to large scale architecture. It splits over halfway up into double
towers that look balanced yet formidable. The granite façade adds appealing
layers of detail to the large structure. The structural system reveals itself
without dominating. The tops of the towers, square in plan but offset 45
degrees from the main structure, provide another layer of visual interest.
Towers
View up the towers
Courtyard outside the building
Skyscrapers inevitably present engineering challenges in earthquake-prone
Japan, and the Metropolitan Government building addresses these challenges
with zest. The superframe structural system is quite flashy, and even earns
recognition in a plaque in one of the top story observation floors. (The plaque
boasts that the building is “strong enough to resist any external forces such as
earthquakes”!) The super-structure
consists of eight “super columns”—
each made from four box-shaped
columns joined with K-braces—and
“super beams” which take up a full story every
ten floors. The giant frame reduces deflections
and leaves the building’s interior as columnfree as possible.
From the towers, Tokyo stretches out as far as
the eye can see, broken visually only by Tokyo
Bay. The city seems remarkably approachable
when visited neighborhood by neighborhood
between a series of subway rides, but from
above, it looks alarmingly gray and endless,
awe-inspiring and also somewhat terrifying.
Pockets of green rise up between the buildings
far less frequently than I had expected.
Looking across the city from above, I could not
shake the impression that if I tried to walk very
far, the sea of buildings would swallow me up.
View of Tokyo from the towers
51
Shin Umeda Sky Building
Architect: Hiroshi Hara
Date: 1993
Location: Osaka, Osaka Prefecture
This 173m, 40-story landmark certainly deserves credit as an engineering feat. A
circular observation level connects two otherwise separate towers at the top, presenting
extensive earthquake engineering and construction challenges and making the building
stand out dramatically in the crowded city. The towers are presumably very stiff to
prevent large relative displacements, but even so the floors connecting them will have to
resist massive forces and deformations. The form inevitably
demands increased expense and materials compared to a
single tower.
View from some distance
The building looks fairly ugly from far away and about the same
as any other skyscraper from close by. I had hoped the
observation level would make it all worthwhile, justifying the
expense of tying two towers together by presenting a thrilling
experience that a single tower could not provide. The ringshaped observation floor allows visitors to look out at the city
and inside at the ground between the two towers, which
seemed potentially exciting. The visit more or less shattered
my hopes.
A dramatic elevator and escalator ride gave the experience a nice introduction, and I would
never turn down a dramatic view of Osaka at sunset, with buildings reaching out to distant green
hillsides and an array of bridges spanning a river. If anything, however, it felt worse to be
suspended between two towers than on top of a single tower. No one looked inwards,
largely because not much could be seen there: escalators and treetops and the streets
off to the side, but nothing at ground level directly below. To the outside, a square
platform and four corner towers, presumably structural, blocked the view somewhat.
Escalator
As an experience, the building fails to offer
anything beyond the standard 360 degree
view that can be most efficiently provided by
a single tower. It would have been far more
architecturally coherent and exciting to
construct the viewing area between the
towers, presenting a view of the city in two
opposite directions only, framed by the
towers themselves. This would have
emphasized the unique structure and
changed people’s way of looking at the city
rather that making the complicated structure
feel gratuitous and somewhat in the way.
View from below
Escalators connect to the observation floor
52
Tazawa-ko Station
Architect: Shigeru Ban
Date: 1997
Location: Tazawa-ko, Akita Prefecture
A steel plate bolted between laminated lumber provides
additional strength
The front of the station on the town side
Inside the station
30
http://www.shigerubanarchitects.com/
31
ibid
From the first glance, the station glows warmly with wood. Laminated
beams span the open building and extend out over an entry plaza.
Plywood covers the ceiling. Structural members are exposed without
flourish, but oiled and warm. Pre-cast concrete columns and a glass
façade frame a dramatic view of nearby mountains on the town side of
the station.
Upon closer inspection, the station fulfilled my expectations for Shigeru
Ban’s scrappy, practical, structural approach to architectural problems.
His simple, no-frills design conveys a sense of structure and also
works architecturally. Using precast concrete columns saved time and
money, keeping the construction time to a required seven months.30
The beams are pin-connected to the columns and constructed from a
steel plate sandwiched between two laminated lumber sections.31
Lumber is spliced two or three times over the course of each side. The
steel carries a large portion of the moment imposed by the roof, and
the laminated lumber sections provide stiffness and prevent buckling.
Inset wooden circles cover bolt holes and add to the project’s aesthetic
success. Exposed bolted connections between the façade and the
concrete columns contribute as well.
53
Interior view of the roof system
A narrow but warm building stretched across the boundary between the town
and the train tracks, the train station serves as a lovely transition area. Large
windows and an open interior connect the two sides visually, while the
extensive use of wood creates a definite sense of place. People wait for trains
inside the lobby, gazing at the mountains as sun falls into the station through
the glass façade. Walking through the station towards the town, the clean
lines and bright wood wake you up and encourage you to take a deep breath
and appreciate the pretty mountain town you are about to enter.
Interior
View of the mountains through the station window
54
Kyoto Station
Architect: Hiroshi Hara
Date: 1997
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
Walking through this expansive, futuristic station, grumbling to myself
about how buildings with flashy exposed structures never let visitors
close enough to the structure to interact with it in an interesting way, I
discovered the Skyway, a suspended path that guides visitors under
the peak of the steel-framed roof. It quickly put an end to my
complaints. Walking right next to a roof system after watching it soar
far above you a few minutes before is a wonderful experience. Views
of the city alternate with views along rows of framing elements, which
look delightfully high tech.
Roof and sky at the east end of the station
Beyond the Skyway, the building offers a variety of interesting
architectural moments to anyone who takes the time to explore it.
Dramatic views emerge as you ride the escalators and wander the
halls, natural light is used to excellent effect, and opportunities to
watch people milling about above and below you frequently present
themselves.
Unfortunately, the vast majority of visitors simply want to catch a train or find a restaurant, and do not experience the
building in this way. Many appreciate the long, showy escalator ride, but the building looms too far above people walking
on the lower levels to make an impact beyond that of any huge glass and steel structure. The overall scale—Kyoto Station
is the second largest train station in Japan, after Nagoya Station—differs too dramatically from the scale of the interesting
parts to completely succeed. An overall sense of grace is missing that the well-developed details cannot provide.
View from the outside
Inside the station
View from the Skyway
55
Prada
Architect: Herzog and de Meuron
Date: 2003
Location: Tokyo
Emerging from the subway station onto glitzy
Omotesando Avenue, a visitor is swept up
into a crowd of well-dressed shoppers. Away
from the main bustle and down the avenue,
the Prada building soon catches the eye. A
strange tilted plaza draws people off the
street almost through the force of gravity, the
building sparkles in the sunlight, and people
inside wait to provide drinks and attentive
service to serious shoppers.
The building’s structural system has achieved
a rare level of publicity and glamour. An
exposed, rational structure—a diamond grid of
steel tubes—covers the irregularly-shaped building, combining with diamond-shaped glass
panels to present an extremely flashy exterior. Glass panels are varyingly flat, concave, or
convex, reflecting the sky like jewels. The glass makes the idea of a building with all flat
panels sound profoundly boring. While the gravity system in particular is not the simplest
available, the absence of vertical members and the use of curved glass transform the
building from a simple—albeit very high-end—commercial space into something remarkable.
Sun reflects off the glass panels
Inside, the structure becomes even more visible. Steel members
roughly a foot wide project into the space, outlining human-sized
diamonds and tempting a visitor to curl into one to admire the view.
The open floor plan and continuous walls of windows make the
interior light-filled and open, while the circulation encourages
shoppers to look outside at the broad view of the city below.
The architects intended the convex and concave glass to act as
“an interactive optical device” which “seems to move as you walk
around it.”32 While this certainly works on the outside, it has a
slightly dizzying effect inside the building; from time to time, the
floor feels as though it is moving beneath you.
The plaza outside the building, a much-discussed rarity in Japan,
was empty when I visited. Perhaps throwing a European concept
into a Japanese city is not as easy as one might think.
Entrance
32
http://architectook.net/prada-tokyo
56
View up the irregularly-shaped
building
Todʼs Omotesando
Architect: Toyo Ito
Date: 2004
Location:Tokyo
Up Omotesando Avenue and towards Yoyogi Park from the Prada building, swarms
of shoppers grow denser while stores are equally expensive and trendy. Bright
signs and high-end storefront displays compete for attention as crowds stroll under
rows of graceful Zelkova trees. Near intersections, sidewalks are packed full of
people waiting for the traffic lights to change.
Tod’s Omotesando’s blocky, narrow storefront stands out against these
surroundings. Concrete branches inspired by the avenue’s trees snake diagonally
across its narrow façade, leaving inset windows to fill the remaining space. The
building looks like an art project or a fantasy that could never become reality, a box
with straps pulled across it and the gaps between them cut out and turned into
windows. Happily, the concrete in the façade acts as a highly irregular but
successful structural system, leaving the interior largely open. The concrete limbs
become narrower towards the top of the building, nicely echoing structural demands.
Storefront on Omotesando Avenue
Facade detail
Walking inside feels like a subtle
version of entering a room of
mirrors at a carnival, full of illusion
and corners to explore. More than
most buildings with dramatic
façades, the interior directly reflects
the exterior in a way that works for
both. Angled geometric panels,
unexpected windows, and irregular
mirrors follow and extend the
patterns of the exterior walls.
Combined with a general lack of
right angles, these features make
the store seem to continue through
mirrored panels in several places.
Angles become even more
irregular around the staircases,
which curl you smoothly to the floor
above.
The overall impression invites
exploration, suggesting the
possibility of finding hidden niches,
windows, and perhaps even shoes.
Stairwell between the first and second floors
Back wall
57
Christian Dior Omotesando
Architect: SANAA
Date: 2004
Location: Tokyo
A block up Omotesando Avenue from Tod’s, the Christian Dior building takes a subtler approach to luring shoppers off the
busy street. A shimmery façade—curved acrylic screens behind glass windows—and very clean lines make the building’s
exterior soft and alluring. The screens look almost watery, as if you can see through to multiple depths simultaneously.
Very subtle glimpses of the inside appear at certain angles, but for the most part they are too fleeting for passersby to
notice. The architects “aimed at a building in which the sizes and depths of the inner spaces can only be imagined,”33 and
the façade works effectively towards this goal, in striking contrast to the glass window displays of nearby stores. A large
open door unfortunately detracts somewhat from this impression by giving everyone who walks by a wide view of the
interior.
As I was warned,34 the inside of the building feels starkly unrelated to the outside. Displays clutter the space and cut
shoppers off from the outside edge, making the interior dark and sterile. The real tragedy of this hit me when I stumbled
upon a small patch of exposed façade on the second floor. From inside, the façade is still shimmery but far more
transparent than from the outside, letting you watch people passing by outside the building. Without the interior walls and
clutter, the experience of walking into the building and seeing the walls around you transform from translucent to
transparent would have been magnificent. The interior would have felt like a magical place, a secret world from which you
could watch others without being seen yourself.
Facade detail
The facade reflects trees and largely
cuts off views of the interior
View up the side of the building
33
“Space in Detail IV”. Japan Architect JA54 (2005).
34
http://www.galinsky.com/buildings/diortokyo/index.html
58
Mikimoto Ginza 2
Architect: Toyo Ito
Date: 2005
Location: Tokyo
Mikimoto Ginza 2 stands out by looking different. In the middle of the jumbled chaos of
Tokyo’s Ginza district, it cannot compete in size, motion, sheen, or drama, but it certainly
manages to catch the eye nonetheless. From a block or two away, the first glimpse is
delightful, making it appear almost silly compared to the serious buildings around it.
Irregularly-shaped windows cover the smooth façade like champagne bubbles. Tourists
stop and point.
Inside, the building successfully presents an exclusive, glamorous tone to such an extent
that it is easy to feel sharply out of place. The column-free interior features natural light
and bubble-shaped views of the outside world. The enticing round windows draw visitors
to the outer walls to watch people walk by on the street below.
A window wraps around the corner of
the building
In a variety of projects, Ito exhibits great interest in
structural innovation; Mikimoto is no exception. Two
steel plates with 20 cm of concrete poured between them form the façade and
structural system,35 allowing the relatively thin skin to carry seismic and gravity loads
despite the abundance of holes. Holes are rounded to avoid stress concentration at
corners.36 The ambitious detailing works towards Ito’s idea of the skin “as only a
single vast sheet with unusual glazing,” by setting the
windows almost flush with the walls and eliminating
traces of joints whenever possible.37 Unfortunately,
joints do show through upon inspection, and despite
carefully planned coatings occasional drips stain the
smooth façade. The overall glamour remains
despite these small lapses.
View from the street
View up a wall
35
“Japanese Architectural Scene 2006”. Japan Architect JA64 (2006).
36
ibid
37
ibid
59
Tadao Ando
Tadao Ando, one of the most internationally acclaimed Japanese architects, does not seem to fit in well with the other high
profile architects in Japan. In an interview, he mentions his lack of formal schooling and the hegemony of the country’s
two main architecture schools—Waseda University and Tokyo University—as a main reason for this lack of fit. Other
architects imply that he is a bit of a showoff.38
His unconventional background certainly stands out in a profession with a typically straightforward career path. He
worked as a carpenter and a boxer, among other things, and never attended college. Instead, he travelled extensively
throughout the world in the 1960s, studying buildings in person and reading architecture books, before setting up a design
practice in Japan.
His work undoubtedly has an element of showiness. His architecture tends to attract attention and strut about a little,
making people notice its impact rather than affecting them subtly. His buildings are often dramatic, flashy, and very much
his own style.
The appeal of Ando’s work comes from the combination of his experience-based design roots and this tendency towards
flashiness. He uses his designs to proclaim big ideas. He brings a strong vision to each project, both in terms of the
overall design—a dark church with a cross of light covering the front wall, or a temple that worshippers enter through the
middle of a wide pond—and the way people experience it—turning a corner to find a broad concrete wall, or feeling the
ceiling disappear overhead. He designs as an artist rather than as a philosopher or theorist, and his willingness to indulge
the overall vision and to make the experience work makes his buildings deeply engaging. They affect you, directing your
view, moving you from place to place, presenting strange situations, surprising and delighting you. The result is showy,
but wonderful to experience.
Compared to the United States, Japan boasts an impressive density of modern architecture that impacts people
powerfully. In Ando’s work, this tendency becomes even more pronounced. Visiting several of his buildings offered me a
key lesson in what architecture can accomplish, if it dares.
38
Knabe, Christopher and Joerg Rainer Noennig, Shaking the Foundations: Japanese Architects in Dialogue. Munich; Prestel Verlag, 1999.
60
Church of the Light
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 1989 (Chapel), 1999 (Sunday School)
Location: Ibaraki, Osaka Prefecture
Chapel from outside
The Church of the Light was one of
the most intense architectural
experiences of the trip, and also one
of the best. It presents a strong,
personal vision for what religion
should be, one that aligns with the
congregation’s request: “What we
wanted is a simple building with
sacred space which realizes Jesus
Christ’s words, ‘…where two or three
come together in my name, I am
there with them.’”39 The building is
outspokenly unadorned, with simple,
dark wooden benches and
floorboards, black cushions, and
smooth concrete walls. The floor
slopes gently down to the front of the
room and the crossshaped window that fills
the front wall. The
rectangular box form adds
to the impression of
austerity. The building
demands a focus on
worship without the
potential distractions of
adornment or flourish.
Light enters the chapel through a side window
At first, the building feels warm and comforting despite the intense
simplicity. The concrete glows softly; light from the side window moves
slowly across the pews. As I stayed for some time, mostly alone, the
austerity began to feel more intense, the lines of light and structure too
sharp. Visiting the chapel when filled with people and song sounds
wonderful, but spending long hours there alone would be a strange
experience.
Inside the chapel
39
Letter to the visitors from Noboru Karukome, Minister of Ibaraki Kasugaoka Church
61
The cross at the front has an entirely different effect than I had expected from pictures, in
which it looks bright against a very dark background. In person, it glows beautifully, but
the rest of the room has enough light to show up in full detail as well. Worshippers can
also see things through the window—tree branches and a few telephone lines. As a result,
the cross does not overwhelm but rather offers a warm focal point. The cross works
because despite being technically complex—the side walls and roof must support the
upper sections of the concrete wall without help from below—it looks simple, just two lines
of empty space in the smooth wall. It matches the calm room and draws attention without
dominating completely.
The Sunday School echoes the chapel’s rectangular form, but its plywood benches and
desks, cedar floorboards, and cross appear light, both compared to the chapel and to its
own concrete walls, which almost seem to fade away as a result. It feels warm inside, but
hard also, a place for kids to sit still and think or talk but not to squirm. The wood and the
light that enters along the back wall cannot quite soften the sharp, high-ceilinged form
enough to make it feel comfortable. The building and the thought of being a small child
inside it made me wish for tatami mats and floor cushions
to ameliorate the sense of rigid open space.
Top of the cross-shaped window, detail
Sunday School, back wall
Inside the Sunday School
62
Inside the chapel
Water Temple
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 1991
Location: Awaji-shima, Hyogo Prefecture
Uphill from the island’s main bus route,
past rice paddies and through a
cemetery, a path leads towards a smooth
concrete wall with gray gravel sloping up
to it. An open door cut out at the far end
reveals a second wall, which turns the
path right to curve softly between the high
walls until opening up in front of a wide,
circular pool, raised off the ground, full of
lilies gently swaying in the rippling water.
Reaching the pool offers visitors a
moment to pause and contemplate the
fields, the clouds passing overhead, the
sounds of water and birds and cars far
down the hillside. The world feels clear
and fresh. The path then leads back
along the side of the pool and, magically,
down into its center, between the two
halves of the pool and into the dark
temple below.
Counterclockwise from upper left: Entry sequence, from concrete wall with gravel to the staircase leading through the pool and into the temple
63
This lovely entry sequence calms and cleanses. The architecture guides visitors gently further and further from the bustle
of the world below, creating a sense of distance and separateness that resembles reaching the top of a breezy, grasscovered hillside.
Inside, soft orange light fills the room. A square grid of columns, beams, and latticework extends across the circular
temple area, surrounded by a wall and a circular corridor. Two tatami mats fill each grid space, separated by wooden floor
boards. Vertical siding overlaps around both the inside and outside of the curved wall. Windows in the corridor’s inner
and outer walls light the temple area from behind, and all wood is painted bright orange, making subtle light changes
impact the interior powerfully. As I left the temple and walked around the corridor towards the back windows, orange light
hit the concrete wall ahead, drawing me around the gentle curve.
The gently rippling pond reflects the sky
64
Garden of Fine Arts
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 1994
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
Layers of walkways, walls, and water
The Garden of Fine Arts offers a strange
sort of oasis in the midst of Kyoto’s
summer heat and humidity. Outside,
cars rush by along a wide street, ladies
evade the beating sun with umbrellas,
and the asphalt radiates heat. Inside, the
open-roofed garden surrounds visitors
not with plants but with bright concrete:
columns, walkways, walls cut out to
create a maze of interlocking pathways,
and panels adorned with tile
reproductions of famous paintings.
Alternating sun and shade create strong
contrasts both visually and in
temperature, making the rectangular
lines of the concrete members sharp.
View from an upper pathway
The garden also surrounds visitors with water, which slides down
walls in great sheets and ripples slowly across broad ponds. The
breeze across the pools is refreshing and cool. The sound of
waterfalls dominates the space and damps out sounds from
outside, making the garden feel like a world entirely apart from
Kyoto’s bustle. The smell of water on hot concrete fills the air.
Water detail
View from a lower pathway
A descending path cuts back and forth sharply but manages to
feel casual and meandering nonetheless. Side paths entice
visitors to explore unexpected niches and
reach out to touch the waterfalls.
Benches provide interesting stopping
points. Tile artwork appears around
The floor and ceiling end at a
corners, from both above and below. At
sharp point behind a single
one point part of the path leads under a
column
ledge that descends lower and lower until
a person can no longer fit beneath it.
Strolling through feels like a softer version of exploring a climbing
structure for the first time. The architecture demands attention, but
offers back a sense of fun and exploration as well as a way to make
the hot city outside feel far away.
65
Sayamaike Museum
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 2001
Location: Osakasayama, Osaka Prefecture
The entry sequence, outside the first wall of water
After turning a few corners, all
while listening to the muffled
sound of water, visitors enter a
long corridor with a concrete wall
on one side and a sheet of falling
water on the other. The water is
beautiful and startlingly loud. It
makes conversation difficult, and
demands that people stop to
notice. Kids run around excited
and adults grin, impressed. At the
end of the corridor, the path turns
The sky, through a circular courtyard
back to lead along a pool and
under the open sky on the other
side of the water, which crashes down from two stories high. A final turn
leads back through another concrete and water corridor. The feeling of such
different materials at your sides is lovely, heavy in one direction and light and
alive in the other. Over the minute or two it takes to walk the path, the
building has successfully made visitors both excited about water and a little
more aware of its power.
This seems perfect, as it leads to a
museum about water engineering. The
museum stands next to the Sayamaike
Reservoir, the oldest irrigation pond in
Japan, which has existed in various forms
since the 7th century. The reservoir has
Walking between water and concrete
made use of a wealth of approaches to
control the immense power of water.
Inside the museum, exhibits range from sections of the reservoir’s ancient wooden water
pipes to computer demonstrations of high tech water engineering projects worldwide.
After the final entrance corridor, an ascending path around a large circular courtyard
spirals up to the museum entrance, pushing you to look at the wide sky. The museum’s
interior feels like an underground space, focused on earth and stone and wood in strong
contrast to the watery, airy entrance. The main building uses a 15 x 58 meter slice
through the reservoir’s bank as an integral architectural element to create an immensely
long, tall, narrow corridor.
66
A concrete wall (left) and a slice of earth form a
tall, narrow corridor
Chichu Art Museum
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 2004
Location: Naoshima, Kagawa Prefecture
The museum’s owners let Tadao Ando run wild with this design, and the stunning result stands up as art in its own right.
Built entirely underground on a rounded bluff overlooking the Inland Sea, the museum dazzles, both in transition spaces
and in the presentation of its permanent exhibits. Natural light fills the open areas. A deeply disorienting entrance and a
flexible, undefined route make it feel like you are wandering a maze, exploring rather than trying to find a way out. It
doesn’t quite feel underground, but more like an alternate world, far from the island that is itself far from the bustle of
Japanese cities. An outdoor seating area below the café reconnects you to the ocean below before you plunge back into
the world of the museum.
The showiest architecture occurs around a big, open-roofed triangular space.
A concrete wall rises three stories to ground level, and a corridor circles
outside the wall around two sides of the triangle, rising one story in the
process. Along most of those two sides, a gap roughly a foot tall has been
cut out of the wall slightly below eye level, following the slope of the corridor.
The design is structurally audacious—perhaps the two stories of concrete
above the gap are post-tensioned and hanging from ground level?—and
architecturally wonderful. Looking through the gap next to you at the wall
across the way, the first gap shines bright against a dark wall, while the
second shines dark against a bright wall. This engaging visual effect comes
alive as you circle the corridor.
Gap in the wall around an open triangular space (Photo
by Telestar, courtesy of Creative Commons, http://
www.flickr.com/photos/telstar/)
Naoshima
The gap wraps around two walls, showing up light or dark according to location
(Photo by Telestar, courtesy of Creative Commons, http://www.flickr.com/photos/
telstar/)
67
The museum permanently houses artwork by Walter de Maria, Claude Monet, and James Turrell in galleries designed
specifically for this purpose. A wide staircase, white walls and a high ceiling give the Walter de Maria gallery an expansive
tone, a stylized movie version of the ascent to heaven. A polished stone sphere stands in the center of the staircase,
reflecting the sky from a large rectangular skylight back to you at all times as you explore. Additional light enters softy
around the edges of the large floating white ceiling, which ends a few feet from the walls.
A strange, amorphous entry room leads to the Claude Monet gallery. A white ceiling and walls, white floor tiles, white
grout, and dim, diffuse light dull your senses somewhat, making the white gallery itself look bright. Sunlight enters around
the edges of another hanging ceiling, filling the white, underground room with an impressive amount of light. The
paintings glow on the bright walls with the only color in either of the two rooms.
James Turrell is perhaps the perfect artist to collaborate with Ando in designing the final rooms, as his work fits seamlessly
into Ando’s focus on bringing light underground. Turrell’s skyspace—one of a series of projects worldwide that lets visitors
sit on benches and stare at the sky through a depthless hole in the ceiling—completes the fantastic experience of visiting
the museum. Through the ceiling, the sky looked like a painting and glowed brightly enough to hurt during my afternoon
visit, making people wince and cover their eyes. Tiny wisps of clouds drifted across its surface, and the shade of bright
blue changed ever so slightly as time passed.
The sky over Naoshima
68
Additional Buildings
69
Shrines
70
Izumo Taisha
Date: unknown, probably before 8th century
Location: Izumo, Shimane Prefecture
Proposed model of original shrine
buildings, long since destroyed and rebuilt
Roof detail
71
Sensoji
Date: 7th century, some buildings date to c. 1649, many were rebuilt out of reinforced concrete in 1960
Location: Tokyo
Main hall, interior
Main gate
Rocks in the temple garden
Roof detail
72
Kasuga Shrine
Date: 8th century, rebuilt later
Location: Nara, Nara Prefecture
Stone lanterns line the path to the shrine
Front gate
Outer corridor
73
Meiji Jingu
Date: 1920
Location: Tokyo
Door detail
Gate to the inner shrine
74
Temples
75
Yakushi-ji
Date: 730, rebuilt later
Location: Nara, Nara Prefecture
Corridor roof
76
Kiyomizudera
Date: 8th century, rebuilt later
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
Elevated deck with supports
77
Daitoku-ji
Date: 14th century
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
Entrance to Koto-in subtemple
Window detail
Koto-in interior
78
Villas
79
Kinkaku-ji (Golden Pavilion)
Date: 1398
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
Main building
A small shrine
Behind the main building
80
Ginkaku-ji (Silver Pavilion)
Date: late 15th century
Location: Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture
Sculpted sand cone in front of the main building
81
Residential
82
Buke Yashiki Samurai Residence
Date: 17th century
Location: Matsue, Shimane Prefecture
Stones support the walkway
83
Otaru Warehouse District
Date: Late 19th to early 20th century
Location: Otaru, Hokkaido Prefecture
84
Museums
85
Peace Memorial Museum
Architect: Kenzo Tange
Date: 1955
Location: Hiroshima, Hiroshima Prefecture
The cenotaph and Atom Bomb Dome are aligned
perpendicular to the museum and framed by its columns
86
Ukiyo-e Museum
Architect: Kazuo Shinohara
Date: 1982
Location: Matsumoto, Nagano Prefecture
87
Tepia Science Pavillion
Architect: Fumihiko Maki
Date: 1989
Location: Tokyo
88
Pola Art Museum
Architect: Nikken Sekkei
Date: 2002
Location: Hakone, Kanagawa Prefecture
Entry walkway
Atrium ceiling
Inside the atrium
Connection detail
89
Modern
90
Former Hokkaido Government Office Building
Date: 1888
Location: Sapporo, Hokkaido Prefecture
91
Izumo Taisha Former Train Station
Date: 1924
Location: Izumo Taisha, Shimane Prefecture
92
National Gymnasium
Architect: Kenzo Tange
Date: 1964
Location: Tokyo
Pylon
93
Shizuoka Press and Broadcasting Systems Building
Architect: Kenzo Tange
Date: 1970
Location: Tokyo
94
Asahi Brewery
Architect: Phillippe Starck
Date: 1989
Location: Tokyo
95
Tokyo International Forum
Architect: Rafael Vinoly
Date: 1996
Location: Tokyo
96
Matsumoto Performing Arts Center
Architect: Toyo Ito
Date: 2004
Location: Matsumoto, Nagano Prefecture
Inside the lobby
Wall detail
Wall detail
Inside the lobby
97
National Art Center
Architect: Kisho Kurokawa
Date: 2006
Location: Tokyo
Entrance
Front wall
Front wall
98
Naoshima Ferry Terminal
Architect: SANAA
Date: 2006
Location: Naoshima, Kagawa Prefecture
A mirror between columns
99
Tadao Ando
100
Museum of Literature
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 1991
Location: Himeji, Hyogo Prefecture
Inside the North building
View of Himeji-jo from the museum
South building
North building stairwell
North building exterior
Inside the North building
101
Minami-dera
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 1999
Location: Naoshima, Kagawa Prefecture
Bathroom ceiling
Bathroom
102
International Library of Childrenʼs Literature
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 2002
Location: Tokyo
Reading room interior
Entrance
Behind the library
Behind the library
103
21_21 Design Site
Architect: Tadao Ando
Date: 2007
Location: Tokyo
Entrance
104
The Zen Temple Ryoan-jiʼs rock garden, perhaps the most famous in the world, probably dates to the late
15th century. Five of the gardenʼs fifteen rocks are drawn above. The garden is designed so that it is
impossible to see all fifteen rocks at the same time.
105