Past, Present and Future in Continuum
Fig. 1. Glass/Wood House, New Canaan, Connecticut, America [2010]. Architecture: Kengo Kuma and Associates. Photographer: Scott Francis. In the words of the creators: 'The existing building was a symmetric glass box of Palladian villa architecture, standing solitarily in a forest. We built a new glass box ... as an attempt to create a kind of 'intimacy' in the forest.'
Introduction
'It appeared that the art of remodelling was lost to the dogma of [artistic] modernism, but this is patently untrue.'1
- Graeme Brooke and Sally Stone
When designing a new building, whether consciously or not, a designer will employ an architectural strategy,2 that is, an order in building. For order is the pattern of the human mind, and all of man’s effort in life, both in art and science, is directed toward establishing his order in the indifferent natural environment of non-human order.3
This strategy can manifest itself in many different ways: whether it was the ancient megalithic builders who were aligning their stone ziggurats with solsticial and equinoctial dates; the beauty and harmony of the Golden Section and Classical Orders in Egypto-Greek and Italian Renaissance temple architecture, such as the Great Pyramid of Giza and the Parthenon; the ken module or system of measure for the construction of all traditional Japanese residences; or Le Corbusier’s Modulor: an anthropometric [human body] scale of proportions between two incompatible scales, the Imperial and the metric systems.4
Thus, all activities that aim at establishing order in the environment are basically acts of measuring i.e., acts of dimensioning the environment according to human standards, at first only physically but later also psychologically. From this then, principles of balance, rhythm, harmony, and unity entered human aesthetic consciousness.5 But when a building is to be conserved,6 the most important and meaningful factor in the design is, of course, the original building, and it is the establishment of a relationship between the old and the new that is the most influential device in the design. The new cannot not exist without the original. The method by which the relationship is established is the key to the strategic analysis of building reuse.7 As Rodolfo Machado describes it:
Remodelling is a process of providing a balance between the past and the future. In the process of remodelling the past takes on a greater significance because it, itself, is the material to be altered and reshaped. The past provides the already written, the marked ‘canvas’ on which each successive remodelling will find its own place.8
What bearing, then, do these values have upon the solution of problems in contemporary architecture? There are a total of 22.2 m. existing dwellings in England9 - the vast majority of which unmistakably belongs to the past - for they no longer [probably never] meet the psychological; and perhaps more importantly, the spiritual needs of the people. Something is missing. Something has always been missing.10 This is the essence of Japanese, indeed, all of Asian architecture; what Kisho Kurokawa calls an ‘intermediary zone’.11 Architecturally, it serves as an intervening space between the inside and the outside – a sort of third world between interior and exterior12 – where one may enjoy well-deserved days and nights of rest and contemplation in the midst of a small secluded garden, unbothered by the stresses of the secular world.13
The tragedy of the present is that for many of us, there is a place inside that yearns for a temenos,14 which can easily be accessed as part of everyday life. Yet one is profoundly hampered in their quest - for the modern architect of the Western world - generally pays little attention to the spaces that surround, enclose, and channel our outdoor activities; the ordinary, everyday spaces between buildings. Instead, they concentrate on buildings; that is, buildings divorced from space [on the human scale].15
To fill this void or middle ground in Western architecture – as well as the construction, the building product manufacturing industries, and the home improvement market - In-between Space proposes the question of whether we can't sympathetically introduce or ‘retrofit’16 modern interpretations of ie-niwa: traditional Japanese ‘house-garden’ type layouts, where intermediating elements are placed in a garden and more or less concealed by semi-transparent ‘hedges’ and fences from the street.17
Strategy and Tactics is an attempt to prove that this can be based upon a sound theoretical approach; and a demonstration that this area of work is rich in creative inspiration.18 What strikes is the surprising simplicity that combines the clean lines of ‘warm minimalism’ with Japanese traditions in building, spirituality and, the association between architecture and nature.
Bibliography and footnotes
1. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004]. Re-readings: Interior Architecture and the Design Principles of Remodelling Existing Buildings, pp. 9.
2. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004], pp. 79.
3. Heinrich Engel [1964]. The Japanese House: A Tradition for Contemporary Architecture, pp. 431.
4. Francis D.K. Ching [1996]. Form, Space, and Order, pp. 293-307.
5. Heinrich Engel [1964]. The Japanese House: A Tradition for Contemporary Architecture, pp. 433.
6. ‘There are a number of different approaches to building conservation: preservation, restoration, renovation, remodelling [this process is also referred to as adaptive reuse, or reworking]; and it is important to distinguish between the different methods used:' Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004], pp. 11.
7. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004], pp. 79.
8. Rodolfo Machado [1976]. Old Buildings as Palimpsest. Progressive Architecture. Quoted in: Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004], pp. 19.
9. Communities and Local Government [2007]. English House Condition Survey: Annual Report.
10. Jan Gehl [2011], pp. 49; Vaclav Havel [1985]. The Power of the Powerless Mass. Citizens Against the State in Central Eastern Europe [Quoted in Academy of Ideas [2022]. The Parallel Society vs Totalitarianism: How to Create a Free World.
11. Michael Lazarin [2007]. Temporal Architecture: Poetic Dwelling in Japanese Buildings, pp. 106.
12. Kisho Kurokawa [1988]. Rediscovering Japanese Space, pp. 54.
13. Heinrich Engel [1964]. The Japanese House: A Tradition for Contemporary Architecture, pp. 245; Mark Hovane [2020]. Invitations to Stillness: Japanese Gardens as Metaphorical Journeys of Solace. Hidden Japan.
14. ‘The ancient Greeks coined the word temenos: ‘cut off’, set aside, or isolated from everyday living spaces and daily activity [the profane], to create a sanctuary; a safe, protected physical space for the purpose of spiritual, emotional and psychological transformation [the sacred];’ Anne Bogart [2016]. Temenos.
15. Larry R. Ford [2000]. The Spaces between Buildings, pp. 4.
16. Retrofitting means 'providing something with a component or feature not fitted during manufacture or adding something that it did not have when first constructed' Malcolm Eames; Tim Dixon et al. [2014]. Retrofit 2050: Critical Challenges for Urban Transitions. Quoted in: Designing Buildings Wiki [2021]. Definitions of Retrofitting.
17. Gunter Nitschke [1993]. From Shinto to Ando: Studies in Architectural Anthropology in Japan, pp. 86.
18. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004], pp. 15.
Fig. 2. House on a Mountain [House in Hanareyama], Hanareyama, Nagareyama, Chiba Prefecture, Japan [2009]. Architecture: Kidosaki Architects Studio. Photographer: Anonymous. In the words of the creators: 'While the east and west sides of the building are closed, the full frontage openings to the south side face a garden filled with daylight, and on the north side, the surrounding sceneries and seasonal views of Hanareyama mountain.'
Strategy
Intervention
'The act of intervention is a process that can be extremely powerful; it can reorder, reconnect, and reveal the narrative of an existing building.'1
- Graeme Brooker and Sally Stone
Here in the Western world, the basic function of a building's enclosing components i.e., solid floor, wall, and ceiling planes is to provide refuge and security from climatic influences [wind, rain, cold and damp air]; and social influences [an inquisitive world outside].2 Thus, western space is discrete [individually separate and distinct]. It is created to conquer nature, it is in opposition to nature. The significance in Western architecture of the [thick and heavy masonry] wall, dividing exterior from interior, is very great for that reason.3
In contrast, the relationship between interior and exterior space is defined by openings and fenestration: the arrangement, proportioning, and design of windows and doors in a building. They connect the two, creating visual-spatial links and providing rooms with rich, natural day light and fresh air. Openings provide contact with the outside world, so that residents know where they are and can observe their surroundings and communicate with those outside. They are a means of 'seeing in' as well as a means of 'seeing out'. The eye as a window that allows us to see out into the world - and the world to look back in at us - is a familiar poetic image.4
Three major factors led to the transformation of attitudes to openings and fenestration in this country from the late-seventeenth century onwards: the coming of the Baroque age with its emphasis on light; the large scale switch from metal to wood as the constructional material in windows; and the ability to produce progressively larger sheets of flat clear glass relatively cheaply. From the early nineteenth century onwards, and under the influence of the Romantic movement, contact with Nature became an important factor in architectural theory. This encouraged the use of the large-paned 'picture window' in domestic architecture. When George Gilbert Scott in 1858 called plate glass, '... one of the most useful and beautiful inventions of our day' he probably spoke for the majority of the modern architectural profession. The dream of filling an aperture with a single expanse of glass, had finally become feasible.5
One of the consequences of this dream that may be of the greatest concern, and one that receives relatively little attention from the modern Western architect, is that this concept, induced a dependence on line of sight [a view extending from the viewer to an object or landscape in the distance] and the ‘picture window’ to connect people and nature. One of the Japanese ‘new wave’, the architect Kengo Kuma says ‘this is impossible.’6 The parapet at the foot of the picture window serves as a barrier to the free flow of movement between the living-dining-working areas and the outdoor areas.
Under these built-in, poorly detailed indoor-outdoor conditions, outdoor activities – such as short-term, spontaneous ‘coming and going’ activities, as well as wide range of social and recreational activities – more or less cease, because it is too bothersome to use irritating detours, other than the direct one, when the destination is in sight. Furthermore, residents are practically cut off from using their own furniture, tools, and toys – it is simply too much trouble to carry [them] in and out all the time. These factors explain why life between buildings - the spaces adjacent to, beside, behind, in front of our dwellings7 - is so often very limited, even though a great number of people in fact live in the buildings.
The residents come and go, but many of the additional activities that could take place never have a chance to develop.8
Intervention is a spatial manipulation technique based upon the principle that energy always moves along the path of least resistance. At a strategic level, the designer will typically strip away, remove, clarify, and undo the parapet or parapets facing the semiprivate front yard and/or private backyard. Without any parapet to block: a picture window gives way to a floor-to-lintel door-window ['porte-fenêtre']: a two-way spatial continuum between inside and outside,9 deliberately designed so that the light of the garden will suddenly spread out before you when you sit down. This gives you the feeling that the architecture is telling you to take your time to rest; to look out into the distance while reflecting on things that are quite different from the objects of our daily activity.10
Bibliography and footnotes
1. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004]. Re-readings: Interior Architecture and the Design Principles of Remodelling Existing Buildings, pp. 93.
2. Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009]. Open | Close: Windows, Doors, Gates, Loggias, Filter. Birkhauser, pp. 8.
3. Kisho Kurokawa [1994]. Philosophy of Symbiosis. Chapter 8: Intermediary Space.
4. Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 8-10.
5. Hentie Louw [1991]. Construction History; Window-Glass Making in Britain c.1660-c.1860 and its Architectural Impact. pp. 47.
6. Philip Jodido; Kengo Kuma [2021]. Kuma. Complete Works 1988 – Today.
7. Larry R. Ford [2000]. The Spaces between Buildings, pp. 4.
8. Jan Gehl [2011]. Life Between Buildings: Using Public Spaces, pp. 184-185.
9. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004], pp. 81; Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 17.
10. Hiroshi Nakamura [2013]. Hiroshi Nakamura: Windows and Affection. Window Research Institute; Rudolf Steiner [1904]. How to Know Higher Worlds: A Modern Path of Initiation, pp. 26.
Fig.3. Vipp Shelter, Immeln, Sweden [2014]. Architecture: VIPP. Photographer: Anonymous. A peaceful hideaway and livable design object dropped down into Swedish woods and beside the mythic lake Immeln. In the words of the creators: 'We craved birdsong and open skies. To get out of the city with all the necessities and nothing more. The shelter - a pod of tranquility - is the result of that dream.'
Strategy
Insertion
'The insertion of a new functioning element not provides a use for an often redundant or neglected ['dead space'] but also serves to enhance and intensify the building itself.'1
- Graeme Brooker and Sally Stone
Look closely at our ‘streetscapes’,2 specifically the ordinary, everyday spaces adjacent to, beside, behind, and in front of our dwellings – in short, the spaces between buildings - and what do you see?3 Thick masonry walls separate the inside from the outside. A large ‘picture window’ facing the street, provides a view out, with nature as something 'out there’;4 What is generally referred to as a threshold – an opening or passage allowing for movement and transition between very private and very public space - is resolved by nothing more than a solid entrance door or 'movable barrier'.5
In what is euphemistically called the ‘garden’ today, one typically sees: flat, empty geometry of ‘brutalist’ concrete and/or grass; a tangle of bushes; one or two private cars; and the preternaturally ugly ‘wheelie bin’ with its orbit of litter - but few people, if any, because conditions for outdoor stays [the key word is staying], are more or less impossible.6 Under these agoraphobic edge conditions,7 most of us prefer to remain inside; what are most certainly sensory-deprivation environments8 - in front of the television – the greatest mind control tool ever created.9
This clear distinction of house from garden is the equivalent of what psychologists term splitting.10 The most far-reaching and complex of human problems, e.g. our social and psychological need for public, semi-public and private physical space; are sharply divided into oversimplified, all-or-nothing polarisations such as inner and outer space, private and public space, sacred and profane space, etc.11 The Japanese, on the other hand, have a concept relatively unknown to the Western mind; and [possibly] the missing ingredient in the building and rebuilding of our public space.12
This is En or the edge effect: intermediating space and elements which define and/or blur artificial dualistic divisions, between inside to outside, building to nature, private to public.13
This spatial religio-aesthetic can be further expanded and made clear when one looks at one of the most pronounced and distinguishing qualities of ancient Japan’s beautiful and endearing hermitages, Zen Buddhist temples and ‘folk houses’ - the 'Engawa' or ‘edge-side’: a multi-dimensional semi-open air ‘verandah’ serving simultaneously as an external corridor connecting all the rooms of the house; a sheltering structure against rain, wind, and summer heat; an area for greeting or entertaining; and as a passageway to the garden, among many other miscellaneous functions. But perhaps the most important role of the engawa, is as an intervening space between the inside and the outside – a sort of third world between interior and exterior.14
Here, one may enjoy well-deserved days and evenings of rest and contemplation [thinking], in the midst of a secluded and beautiful garden, removed and unbothered by the stresses of the secular world.15 The tragedy of the present is that for many of us, there is a place inside that yearns for a restorative space which can easily be accessed as part of everyday life. Yet one is profoundly hampered in their quest - for the modern architect of the Western world - generally pays little attention to the ordinary, everyday spaces between buildings. Instead, they concentrate on buildings; that is, buildings divorced from space [on the human scale].16
Insertion is an installation-based approach or practice that can establish an intimate house-garden relationship between an original dwelling and a remodelling and yet allow the character of each to exist in a strong and independent manner. As the word suggests, it is the introduction of new, built to fit, intermediating spaces and intermediating elements into outdoor space – for example, the semiprivate front yard and/or private backyard; and beside the symbolic centre of the entire dwelling or ‘space of being’ – the living-dining-working areas.
It is at its best when a symbiotic [mutually beneficial] relationship between the crisp new contemporary work and the crumbling antiquity of the existing structure is established and based upon juxtaposition, counterpoint and contrast; and therefore the style, the language, the materials and the character of each are different. The strong relationship of attracting opposites, each complementing and enhancing the other generates a dwelling of a new and greater worth.17
Bibliography and footnotes
1. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004]. Re-readings: Interior Architecture and the Design Principles of Remodelling Existing Buildings, pp. 103.
2. The contents of a city ‘streetscape’ will conveniently be classified into two types of elements: paths, and edges. Paths are the channels along which an observer customarily, occasionally, or potentially moves i.e., street, pavement, footpath. Edges are the linear elements not used or considered a path by the observer. Such edges are more or less penetrable boundaries or barriers between two phases, linear breaks in continuity: walls, gates, fences, etc.; Kevin Lynch [1959]. The Image of the City, pp. 47.
3. Larry R. Ford [2000]. The Spaces between Buildings, pp. 4.
4. Kisho Kurokowa [1994]. The Philosophy of Symbiosis. Chapter 8, Intermediary Space.
5. The Sleep of Rigour [2013]. Threshold: Link and Separator; Nato Giorgadze [2008]. The Greater Reality Behind Doors, pp. 21.
6. Jan Gehl [2011]. Life Between Buildings: Using Public Spaces, pp. 31.
7. ‘In a study of the preferred areas for stays in Dutch recreational areas, the sociologist Derk de Jonge mentions a characteristic edge effect. The edges of the forest, beaches, groups of trees, or clearings were the preferred zones for staying, while the open plains or beaches were not used until the edge zones were fully occupied. Comparable observations can be made in city spaces where the preferred stopping zones also are found along the borders of the spaces or at the edges of spaces within the space. The obvious explanation for the popularity of edge zones is that placement at the edge of a space provides the best opportunities ‘to see without being seen’ [Konrad Lorenz [1952]. King Solomon's Ring, pp. 181]. A supplementary explanation is discussed by Edward T. Hall in the book The Hidden Dimension, which describes how placement at the edge of a forest or close to a facade helps the individual or group to keep its distance from others. At the edge of the forest or near the facade, one is less exposed than if one is out in the middle of a space. One is not in the way of anyone or anything. One can see, but not be seen too much, and the personal territory is reduced to a semicircle in front of the individual. When one’s back is protected, others can approach only frontally, making it easy to keep watch and to react, for example, by means of a forbidding facial expression in the event of undesired invasion of personal territory:’ Jan Gehl [2011], pp. 149.
8. Both traditional [pre-1920] and modern [post-1920] residential architecture are the archetypal examples of a sensory-deprivation environment: ‘The spaces are square, flat and small, eliminating a sense of height, depth, and irregularity. The decor is rigidly controlled to a bland uniformity from room to room and floor to floor … Most … have hermetically sealed windows. The air is processed, the temperature regulated. It is always the same. The body’s largest sense organ, the skin, feels no wind, no changes in temperature, and is dulled ... The light remains constant from morning through night, from room to room until our awareness of light is as dulled as our awareness of temperature, and we are not aware of the passage of time … When we reduce an aspect of environment from varied and multidimensional to fixed, we also change the human being who lives within it. Humans give up the capacity to adjust, just as the person who only walks cannot so easily handle the experience of running. The lungs, the heart and other muscles have not been exercised ... The human being then becomes a creature with a narrower range of abilities and fewer feelings about the loss. We become grosser, simpler, less varied, like the environment:’ Jerry Mander [1978]. Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television, pp. 61-62.
9. Wayne McRoy [2023]. 9/11, 22 Years Later: The Devil In The Details.
10. Dr. Adam Kaasa [2016]. Cohabitation: Against the Tabula Rasa and Towards a New Ethic for Cities. pp. 2.
11. Robert J. Lifton, M.D. [1961]. Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism: A Study of ‘Brainwashing’ in China, pp. pp. 423; Andreas Vogler; Jesper Jørgensen [2004]. Windows to the World [Doors to Space]: A Reflection on the Psychology and Anthropology of Space Architecture, pp. 2.
12. Gunter Nitschke [2007]. Japanese Gardens, pp. 33; Walter Gropius, Forward. In: Heinrich Engel [1964]. The Japanese House: A Tradition for Contemporary Architecture, pp. 18.
12. Gunter Nitschke [2007]. Japanese Gardens, pp. 33; Walter Gropius, Forward. In: Heinrich Engel [1964]. The Japanese House: A Tradition for Contemporary Architecture, pp. 18.
13. Kisho Kurokowa [1994]; Gunter Nitschke [1993]. From Shinto to Ando: Studies in Architectural Anthropology in Japan, pp. 85.
14. Kisho Kurokawa [1988]. Rediscovering Japanese Space, pp. 53-54. Quoted in David Y. Yen [2012]. Japanese Timber Frame Methodology: Alternative Solutions to Hawaii’s Built Environment, pp. 28-29.
15. Heinrich Engel [1964], pp. 245; Mark Hovane [2020]. Invitations to Stillness: Japanese Gardens as Metaphorical Journeys of Solace. Hidden Japan.
16. Larry R. Ford [2000], pp. 4.
17. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004], pp. 102-103.
Fig.5. Dollis Hill Avenue, London, England [2019]. Architecture: Thomas McBrien Architects. Photographer: Ståle Eriksen. In the words of the creators: 'Large full-height sliding doors open out onto a south facing terrace with easy access to the garden beyond. The external terrace, acting as a plinth, helps to ground the new extension into the slope.'
Tactics
Open | Close
‘Everyday we open and close doors, taking a passage from the profane outer space into the sacred inner space, crossing the boundary of public and private, the mysterious and familiar, darkness and light, life and death….'1
- Nato Giorgadze
The act of making a new door-window opening [intervention] raises the question of how to close it - a door-windows enables a gentle flow of life between public and private spaces, but does not prevent them, so protective or filtering components, such as exterior door systems, are created to do this.2
The last 50 years have seen a fundamental revolution in exterior door manufacturing with the reduction to a few system profiles, the arrival of industrial materials [e.g. PVC profiles and steel or aluminum stiffeners]3 and new production techniques. The door has become a standard product, now freely available to the masses, which stands at the end of a chain of production processes in the factories of raw material and semi-finished product suppliers. These suppliers provide doors factories with a wide range of compatible products for system-specific and universal use. Newly gained scientific knowledge, standardisation and quality certification have led to a significant increase in the quality and performance of modern manufactured exterior doors, some of which have developed into [state-of-the-art] products,4 such as near-invisible frame sliding triple glazed door-windows.5
Today, architecture offers a veritable plurality of exterior door components; the range of models on offer is immense and generally of high technical quality. And yet, the visual and tactile properties of the surface, door handle type and operation, the effort needed to open the door, and the sound it makes as it opens are often left out of serious design and construction considerations - by both architect and client.6 Thus, the manner of connecting the meeting point between inside and outside and the relationship between public and private space - is too often and too quickly resolved by nothing more than a plain flush solid door with a small fanlight [half circle window at the top of the door] and/or a sidelight [a vertical window on the side of a door].7
Furthermore, from a cultural and social point of view, the door's value as a mere functional ‘movable barrier’8 to secure safety and security; must be viewed in what the sociologist Barry Glassner describes as 'the most fearmongering time in human history',9 and as the psychoanalyst Joost Meerloo likewise notes: ‘Fear is at work all around us, and often … we may be acting out of fear without even knowing it; we may consider that our behaviour is perfectly normal and rational when, in fact, psychology tells us that creeping fear may already have begun to work on us.10 Contrary to the cult of utilitarianism and the fear psychosis the modern world is caught in the grip of:11 Open | Close looks to explore and celebrate a more heightened sensory spatial experience in the residential dwelling of today.12
The 'aperture area' - the size of the clear window area/glazed area - is around 75-80% of the whole structural opening of a door-window.13 The glazing system consists of a combination of glazing, glazing rebate, and sealing into the sash frame.14 As a rule, the window frame15 and sash frame16 are narrow but deep wood17 profiles found in the Berlin-style window.18 Seen against the influx of light, the natural beauty of wood’s colour and grain feels rich, warm, authentic, and sometimes stimulating to the touch. Glazing comes in the form of double or triple safety glass. This may be of toughened safety glass, which has been hardened and when broken shatters into small cubes, or laminated safety glass, which consists of 2 or more panes laminated together with film interlayers. This allows the glass to support greater loads, and when broken, the glass shards remain bonded in place.19
The use of large glass aperture areas, however, also impinges on the user's privacy: something which must also be taken into account.20 Thus, glass may be sandblasted: permitting light to pass through but diffusing it so the interior at persons, objects, etc., on the opposite side are not clearly visible;21 fitted with 'filters' – for example, simple white fabric that filters light and visually isolates the home from the outside,22 or internal slatted blind systems for graduated control; or complemented by a 'living screen': tall [eye-level standing height], lightly foliaged year-round greenery that allows and/or restricts the filtration of light, air and wind, and enables and/or obstructs vision.23 Seen from within the house, it is a lush, verdant and incredibly soothing - to the eyes and the mind - ‘natural painting’ that changes month to month, day to day, even minute to minute.
Bibliography and footnotes
1. Nato Giorgadze [2008]. The Greater Reality Behind Doors, pp. 19.
2. Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009]. Open | Close: Windows, Doors, Gates, Loggias, Filter, pp. 8.
3. Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 57.
4. Ibid, pp. 50.
5. Vitrocsa [2024]. Products: Sliding.
6. Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 9 & 98.
7. The Sleep of Rigour [2013]. Threshold: Link and Separator; Nato Giorgadze [2008], pp. 22.
8. Nato Giorgadze [2008], pp. 21.
9. Barry Glassner [2010]. The Culture of Fear: Why Americans Are Afraid of the Wrong Things: Crime, Drugs, Minorities, Teen Moms, Killer Kids, Mutant Microbes, Plane Crashes, ... Plane Crashes, Road Rage, & So Much More. Quoted in: The Academy of Ideas [2022]. Fear Psychosis and the Cult of Safety.
10. A. M. Meerloo [1956]. The Rape of the Mind: The Psychology of Thought Control, Menticide, and Brainwashing, pp.127.
11. The Academy of Ideas [2022].
12. Angus Mortimer [2015]. The Impact of Threshold on Phenomenological Architecture.
13. Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 45.
14. Ibid, pp. 58.
15. ‘Window frame: structure around the outside of a window fixed to the masonry. Depending on the wall rebate [anywhere within the thickness of the wall construction [pp. 38], the window may be described as opening outwards, inwards or installed without a rebate;’ Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 55.
16. ‘Sash frame: the sash frame consists of top and bottom rails and side styles. It fits against the rebates of the frame. The correct rebate pressure ensures that the joint between them is sealed;’ Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 55.
16. ‘Sash frame: the sash frame consists of top and bottom rails and side styles. It fits against the rebates of the frame. The correct rebate pressure ensures that the joint between them is sealed;’ Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 55.
17. ‘A wood must have certain characteristics to be suitable for window frame construction. It must be adequately strong, resistant to weather and pests, have grown uniformly and have not tendency to warp. These characteristics are present in woods such as pine, spruce, teak, afrormosia, agba, redwood, sipo, dark red meranti or pitch pine;’ Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009], pp. 53.
18. Ibid, pp. 69.
19. Ibid, pp. 61.
20. Ibid, pp. 18.
21. Dictionary.com [2024]. Translucent.
22. Quim Rosell, et al. [2005]. Minimalist Interiors, pp. 18.
23. Gunter Nitschke [1993]. From Shinto to Ando - Studies in Architectural Anthropology in Japan, pp. 85.
Fig. 6. Shippocho House [House in Shippocho] [2011]. Architecture: Toshihito Yokouchi Architect & Associate. Photographer: Isao Aihara [Toshihito Yokouchi Architectural Design Office]: In the words of the creators: 'The surrounding area is a mix of old and new houses, so the design goal was to combine the imposing strength of the former with the convenience and comfort of the latter.'
Tactics
Soft Boundaries
‘… the essence of Japanese, indeed, all of Asian architecture is what Kisho Kurokawa calls an ‘intermediary zone’.1
- Michael Lazarin
To open up for a two-way exchange of deeper, more meaningful contacts and experiences is not only a question of door-window openings and generously proportioned aperture areas of glazing; but is, a question of how the public environment is placed in relation to the private, and more importantly, how the indoor-outdoor connections between the two areas are designed and detailed. Sharply demarcated borders and abrupt changes – where one is either in a completely private territory indoors or in a completely public area outside – will make it difficult in many situations to move into the public environment if it is not necessary to do so.
In a study of the preferred areas for stays in Dutch recreational areas, the sociologist Derk de Jonge mentions a characteristic edge effect. The edges of the forest, beaches, groups of trees, or clearings were the preferred zones for staying, while the open plains or beaches were not used until the edge zones were fully occupied. Comparable observations can be made in city spaces where the preferred stopping zones also are found along the borders of the spaces or at the edges of spaces within the space.2 The obvious explanation for the popularity of edge zones is that placement at the edge of a space provides a universal, human behavioural and psychological need for ‘prospect and refuge’3 – to see without being seen.4
That is, people prefer architectural and natural spatial characteristics that not only provide users with a condition suitable for visually surveying and contemplating the surrounding environment for both opportunity and hazard [prospect];5 but also provide a sense of retreat and withdrawal – for work, protection, rest or healing [refuge].6 Moreover, environments that achieve a balance between both exterior and interior, prospect and refuge elements, are perceived as safe places to explore and dwell; and consequently, are considered more aesthetically-pleasing and enjoyable, than environments without these elements.7
In other words, aesthetic designs look easier to use and have a higher probability of being used, whether or not they actually are easier to use. More usable but less-aesthetic designs may suffer [from] a lack of acceptance that renders issues of usability moot [i.e., debatable or doubtful]. The effect has been observed in several experiments, and has significant implications regarding the house-garden relationship.8
In this matter we have much to learn from one of the most pronounced and distinct spatial qualities - largely responsible for the successful solution of house-garden relationship - of the traditional Japanese Zen Buddhist temple, tearoom and dwelling of the common people: the 'engawa' [literally ‘connecting-edge at the side’].9 Architecturally, it serves as an external corridor connecting interior spaces; a shelter against rain, wind, and the strong rays of the summer sun; a vestibule to entertain guests; a verandah that extends into the natural environment, and a third world where inside and out merge as one.10
The ’physique’ of the engawa i.e., the major space forming elements, feature a harmonious ensemble that appeal so strongly to the modern architect of the Western world. Frank Lloyd Wright openly admired these characteristics, having delighted in the fact that it was impossible to tell precisely ‘where the garden leaves off and the garden begins.’11 These particular characteristics are indicated as being: a. an open, raised floor or platform at the extreme interior of the tatami mat viewing room; b. a ‘standing on stones’ [ishibatate] post-and-lintel skeleton frame system of construction - without a single nail or screw, and; c. a gently sloping roof canopy with huge overhanging eaves, extending from the moya [the core of the building].
The main building material is wood. The Japanese people have special appreciation for the natural grain of wood, its texture and colour. and beauty. They delight in the exquisite finish on woodwork. Often No one would ever think of soiling such a surface with paint. This attitude toward the plain surface of wood is a manifestation of the love of nature so strong in the Japanese. Their innate taste may be summed up in the word shibumi, whose meaning may be suggested by saying that it stands for quiet, delicate and refined taste, the beauty that does not show on the surface; and opposed to anything gaudy, crude or ostentatious.12
Bibliography and Footnotes
1. Jan Gehl [2011]. Life Between Buildings: Using Public Spaces, pp. 113, 121 & 149.
2. Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009]. Open | Close: Windows, Doors, Gates, Loggias, Filter, pp. 8.
2. Anette Hochberg; Jan-Henrik Hafke; Joachim Raab [2009]. Open | Close: Windows, Doors, Gates, Loggias, Filter, pp. 8.
3. Annemarie S. Dosen; Michael J. Oswald [2013]. Prospect & Refuge Theory: Constructing A Critical Definition For Architecture & Design, pp. 9.
4. 'Before we break through the last bushes and out of cover to the free expanse of the meadow, we do what all wild animals ... would do under similar circumstances: we reconnoitre [‘survey’], seeking, before we leave our cover, to gain from it the advantage which it can offer alike to hunter and hunted - namely to see without being seen.'; Konrad Lorenz [1952]. King Solomon's Ring. pp. 181.
5. Terrapin Bright Green; William Browning; Catherine Ryan; Joseph Clancy [2014]. 14 Patterns of Biophilic Design: Improving Health and Well-Being in the Built Environment. Prospect.
6. Terrapin Bright Green; William Browning; Catherine Ryan; Joseph Clancy [2014]. Refuge.
7. William Lidwell; Kritina-Holden; and Jill Butler [2003]. Universal Principles of Design: 100 Ways to Enhance Usability, Influence Perception, Increase Appeal, Make Better Design Decisions, and Teach Through Design. pp. 192.
8. Ibid, pp. 20.
9. Jiro Harada [1936]. The Lesson of Japanese Architecture, pp. 10; Heinrich Engel [1964]. The Japanese House: A Tradition for Contemporary Architecture, pp. 248; Michael Lazarin [2014]. Phenomenology of Japanese Architecture: En [Edge, Connection, Destiny], pp. 138.
10. David Y. Yen [2012]. Japanese Timber Frame Methodology: Alternative Solutions to Hawaii’s Built Environment, pp. 29.
11. Frank Lloyd Wright [1938 ed.]. An Autobiography, pp. 139. Quoted in: Kevin Nute [2019]. Frank Lloyd Wright and Japan, pp. 20.
12. Jiro Harada [1936], pp. 46-47.
12. Jiro Harada [1936], pp. 46-47.
Fig. 6. The Home of Kethevane Cellard, Arcueil, Paris, France. Artist | Landscape Artist: Kethevane Cellard. In the words of the creator: 'Our house is in the middle of a block, receding from the street and over the years, we have planted and grown multiple plants, vines and a few trees. Now, we have lots of birds and insects populating the yard, along with a pond that hosts over three dozen goldfish. It has become our haven away from the hectic urban life.'
Tactics
Visual Gardens
'The many great gardens of the world, of literature and poetry, of painting and music, of religion and architecture, all make the point as clear as possible: the soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden. If you don’t want paradise you are not human, and if you are not human you don’t have a soul.'1
- Thomas Moore
Of course, the presence of ‘the space between’, projected from Japanese interior space; would be meaningless if there is nothing to interact or interconnect with.2
Thereafter, for generation after generation, the Japanese developed gardens of exquisite beauty that can be classified into two groups: those meant to be experienced by walking in them, and ‘visual gardens’ meant to be experienced mainly with the eyes and the mind.3 Among the myriad of visual gardens to be found in Japan, is the tsubo-niwa, the small rectangular ‘inner courtyard gardens’ found amongst the tiny ‘leftover’ spaces in Japan’s traditional wooden townhouses [machiya] and temples.4
Highly influenced by Zen philosophy, these tiny points of calm and beauty represent a condensed version of the dry landscape karesansui gardens and roji tea gardens of medieval Japan: rocks, water features, moss, pruned trees and bushes, and gravel or sand; meant to be seen while seated from a single viewpoint outside the garden, such as the engawa ‘verandah’ or moya [‘viewing room’]. They were intended to imitate the essence of nature, not its actual appearance, and to serve as an aid for contemplation and meditation.5 The modernist architect-theorist Garrett Eckbo recognised this: ‘Japanese gardens are probably the most highly refined and completely developed garden conceptions our world culture has known. They are perfectly suited as spaces for withdrawal, repose [rest] and as places where one seeks order in a disorderly world.’6
Such being the case, assimilation of tsubo-niwa to the residential garden is one of the main tasks of contemporary architecture and the first step towards this goal is the establishment of standard measures [modules] that are all based upon one single common measure for exterior areas of residential sites, the 'tsubo' [approx. 1.00 sq. m.].7 Connect 'tsubo' together in a linear grid sequence, along the floor planks running along the length of the engawa [ approx. 6.00 m.] and you have an 'ie-niwa': a ‘house-garden’ type layout, in which the soft boundary between indoor and outdoor is more or less concealed by a tsubo-niwa of semi-transparent ‘hedges’ and screens.8
Intimate in scale, informal, and unassuming in character, these ‘hedges’ are often mainly devoted to tall [eye-level standing height] to medium, lightly foliaged shrubs and grasses; chosen at least as much for their atmospheric qualities [light, shadow, movement, sound, etc.] as for their attractive, year-round form, texture and colour. To complement the effects of a ‘living screen’, and heighten the state of both seclusion and solitude; a large number of thin elements, or slats - made up of wood - are expressed in a variety of thin screens or filters. Breaking down the material surfaces in this way ensures that the house-garden space is continuous with the surrounding natural environment in an ambiguous manner; while providing privacy where necessary.9
One of the most important elements of a tsubo-niwa is the presence of water:10 often in the form of a curved metal water bowl, precisely positioned to receive rainwater dripping from a Japanese kusari-doi rain chain. The beauty of the kusari-doi is that it gathers rain from the roof and conveys it to the bowl, and it does this artistically – thus transforming the closed downspouts into a visual and auditory delight, that is both relaxing and soothing.11 Beneath, the rainwater forms a shallow pond in which birds may drink, bathe, and cool themselves; and a calm reflecting pool, mirroring in its placid waters, the glory of the sky or heavens.
One last important point that does not concern the form of the garden, but rather its care. Most tsubo-niwa wouldn’t take 15 minutes a day to sweep and water, but in that short time you become connected to the garden. You might say the ki [energy; life force] you put in is the ki you get back. The daily care of the garden is made easier by all the basic elements of the garden’s design: simplicity, smallness and proximity. Through this ritual cleaning, the calm of the garden becomes the calm of your heart, and the calm of your heart shows in the garden for all to see. To have a tsubo niwa and leave the care to someone else would be to rob yourself of the best part.12
Bibliography and footnotes
1. Thomas Moore [1966]. The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life, pp. 102. Quoted in: Mark Hovane [2020]. Invitations to Stillness: Japanese Gardens as Metaphorical Journeys of Solace. Kyoto Journal: Hidden Japan.
2. Siujui [2020]. A Study on Engawa: The Japanese Tradition and its Contemporary Revival.
3. Geeta Mehta; Kimie Tada [2008]. Japanese Gardens: Tranquillity, Simplicity, Harmony, pp. 11.
4. Marc P. Keane [2016]. Japanese Courtyard Gardens. Kyoto Journal: Hidden Japan.
5. Mark Hovane [2020]; Gunter Nitschke [1991]. Le Jardin Japonais: Angle Droit et Forme Naturelle [The Architecture of the Japanese Garden: Right Angle and Natural Form], pp. 65.
6. Garrett Eckbo in Kendall Brown [2017]. Visionary Landscapes. Quoted in: Mark Hovane [2020].
7. Heinrich Engel [1964]. The Japanese House: A Tradition for Contemporary Architecture. Chapter II: Measure, pp.49.
8. 'Connect jigas together in an overlapping manner on their corners and you have what he calls en [or what traditional historians call echelon planning]; Charles Jencks, Introduction. In: Kisho Kurokawa [1977]. Metabolism in Architecture, pp. 10; ‘the ie-niwa, literally ‘house-garden’ type layout, where a pure dwelling is placed in a garden and more or less concealed by a solid wall or semi-transparent fence or hedge from the street;’ Gunter Nitschke [1993]. From Shinto to Ando: Studies in Architectural Anthropology in Japan, pp. 86.
9. Botond Bognar; Kengo Kuma [2005]. Kengo Kuma: Selected Works. Filtered Space, pp. 31-33.
10. Terrapin Bright Green; William Browning; Catherine Ryan; Joseph Clancy [2014]. 14 Patterns of Biophilic Design: Improving Health and Well-Being in the Built Environment. 4. The Patterns, 4.1 Nature in the Space, Presence of Water.
11. Japan Experience [2012]. Kusari-doi Rain Chains.
12. Marc P. Keane [2016].
Fig. 7. Amanu Lounge Chair. Product Designer: Yabu Pushelberg. Brand: Tribu. In the words of the creators: 'The chairs feature woven, hemp-based Canax sling seats that seem to float from a slimline-teak frame, sourced from sustainably managed Indonesian plantations. The slightly tapered legs provide lightness and grace, while the smooth, half-rounded armrests and the elegantly finished cushions make the chairs extremely comfortable.'
Tactics
Sitting Space
'Work is the means of life; leisure the end. Without the end, work is meaningless - a means to a means to a means ... and so on forever ... When we sit down to [rest], we are consciously removing ourselves from the world of work and means and industry ...'1
- Roger Scruton
Greatly simplified, outdoor activities in public [and semi-public] spaces - for example, a semiprivate front yard with a view of the street, can be divided into three categories, each of which place very different demands on the physical conditions of the environment: necessary activities, optional activities, and social activities.
Necessary activities include those that are more or less compulsory – going to school or to work, shopping, running errands, distributing mail – in other words, all activities in which those involved, are to a greater or lesser degree, required to participate in throughout the year, and under nearly all conditions. Optional activities – that is, those pursuits that are participated in if there is a wish to do so and if time and place make it possible – are quite another matter. This category includes favourite pastimes and guilty pleasures such as: whiling away a few hours reading a book or listening to music; contemplation [thinking] and putting one’s thoughts onto paper; alfresco eating an afternoon nap or; watching the sun set.
Social activities are all activities that depend on the presence of others in private outdoor spaces, gardens and the pedestrian parts of the street - greetings and conversations, communal activities of various kinds, and finally – as the most widespread social activity – passive contacts, that is, simply seeing and hearing other people. These activities could also be termed ‘resultant’ activities, because in nearly all instances they evolve from activities linked to the other two activity categories. They develop in connection with the other activities because people are in the same space, meet, pass by one another, or are merely within view.2
Now this may not strike you as an intellectual bombshell, and, now that I look back .., I wonder why it was not apparent from the beginning, but people tend to sit most where there are places to sit. Ideally, sitting should be physically comfortable – benches with backrests, well-contoured chairs. It's more important, however, that it be socially comfortable. This means choice: sitting up front, in back, to the side, in the sun, in the shade, in groups, off alone. This means making ledges so that they are sittable, or making other flat surfaces – for example, a wooden engawa deck - do double duty as a fragrant ‘tatami’ matted floor.3
Now, [we come to] a wonderful invention - the movable chair. Having a back, it is comfortable; more so, if it has an armrest as well. But the big asset is movability. Chairs enlarge choice, and the possibility of choice is as important as the exercise of it. If you know you can move if you want to, you feel more comfortable staying put. This is why, perhaps, people so often move a chair a few inches this way and that before sitting in it, with the chair ending up about where it was in the first place. They are a declaration of autonomy, to oneself, and rather satisfying.'4
With this understanding, views or prospects [i.e., a visual and non-visual connection with nature]5 are to be set up, not by accidentbut by the careful positioning of indoor and outdoor furniture. A person moving around the main living areas would be presented with a series of ‘habitable’ windows. The brightness of the garden will naturally lead them to move closer to the windows, and they will reflexively sit on the sofas, lounge chairs, chairs, etc. beside the windows.6 This gives the feeling that the architecture is telling one to take time to rest. People sit down, the scenery opens up, and they are offered a moment to look out onto nature’s beauty; while reflecting on things that are quite different from the objects of our daily activity.7
The value of such inner, peace-filled self-contemplation give us the full strength for completing our daily tasks.8
Bibliography and footnotes
1. Roger Scruton [1998 ed.]. Introduction. In: Josef Pieper [1948]. Leisure: The Basis for Culture, pp. 14.
2. Jan Gehl [2011]. Life Between Buildings: Using Public Spaces. Three Types of Outdoor Activities, 9-11.
3. William H. Whyte [1980]. The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces. Project for Public Spaces, pp. 28.
4. Ibid, pp. 34-35.
5. Terrapin Bright Green; William Browning; Catherine Ryan; Joseph Clancy [2014]. 14 Patterns of Biophilic Design: Improving Health and Well-Being in the Built Environment. 4. The Patterns, 4.1 Nature in the Space, Visual Connection with Nature; Non-Visual Connection with Nature.
6. Graeme Brooker; Sally Stone [2004]. Re-readings: Interior Architecture and the Design Principles of Remodelling Existing Buildings, pp. 209, 215.
7. Hiroshi Nakamura [2013]. Hiroshi Nakamura: Windows and Affection.
8. Rudolf Steiner [1904]. How to Know Higher Worlds: A Modern Path of Initiation, pp. 26-27.
In-between Space 2024
Japanese-influenced indoor-outdoor timber architecture
+ small secluded visual gardens
+ small secluded visual gardens