1a. Mr Uedo is the head of an international toy company an old family business which in the past twenty five years has diversified into hand-held electronic games. Until now he has lived in a penthouse flat atop his company’s head office in Tokyo. He has decided that in two years time on his 70th birthday, he will leave the day-to-day running of the company to his eldest son and move back to Numazu, his home town. But first he must build there the classical Japanese house that he has always dreamed of. A house with a steeply sloping roof, upturned eaves, verandahs, and a garden to delight his old age.
A Japanese house and its garden are one and, to achieve visual harmony, must be designed together. The essence of a traditional house is its refined and tasteful simplicity. It is usual for one man to do the designing and direct the building and decorating. This man is a Daiku san or master carpenter. It is almost certain that this man’s father will also have been a Daiku san and have passed on age-old skills to his son. On enquiry, Mr Uedo finds that a Mr Kato, a man with many years experience, is highly recommended.
Wood is the preferred material for family homes in Japan. The country has earthquakes, typhoons, and a high humidity in summer. Wood is resilient and withstands most shocks. It can be surprisingly durable. Major pillars and beams in the Horyuji Temple have been in place for 1,300 years. Clay, bamboo and paper are also among the basic materials that are used.
Mr Uedo, although still closely involved in his business, makes time to visit his slowly rising house at least once a fortnight. At first there is nothing to see but the cement footings. This a departure from earlier houses which sat on a network of beams supported by short posts resting on rocks and were not anchored to the ground. Although this method has proved itself, with houses more than a hundred years old still standing, modern building codes demand cement footings.
On a later visit, he finds the roof beams being placed. These are massive whole-log beams and it the roof that will act as a stabilizer against the elements. Unlike the Western-style house, the Japanese house has no internal load-bearing walls although it does have structural posts to give some support. It expected that by his next visit the clay roof tiles will be in place. Although azure blue is a popular roof colour for such buildings, Mr Uedo has decided that earth tones would be more appropriate.
On this occasion, Mr Kato explained to him the practical advantages of the deep eaves and the upturned corners. Mr Uedo will be able to leave the floor-to-ceiling sliding doors to the verandahs open even in the humid rainy season. And in summer, the angle will be just right to keep out the hot summer sun.
Some months later, Mr Uedo finds the outer walls well on the way to completion. Over a lattice of split bamboo four layers of clay have been applied each one of a different consistency and, since each one has had to dry before the next was applied, it has been a slow job. One more coat of fine clay and he will have walls that will breath and not sweat as concrete does in a humid climate.
We will jump ahead in time. The house is finished and has taken eighteen months. A lesser one could have been completed in three months but this is a dream house. Our friend, Mr Uedo, takes us, his foreign visitors, to see it. The front door of latticed woodwork slides easily without effort and we step into the genkan and take off our shoes.
The first thing that strikes us is the pleasant smell of cedar, cypress, pine, and tatami. We rub our hands over one of the exposed structural posts, admiring the grain, and, although it has no stain or laquer, it has a silken feel. It has been planed to an unbelievably fine finish and we are soon to find that this is the standard of workmanship throughout.
The immediate effect is of uncluttered spaciousness and subtle beauty. The transoms over the sliding doors and panels are intricately carved. The panels themselves being wooden frames covered with paper each being decorated with a different pattern. As room dividers they are ideal and may be moved to make several small rooms into one large room if desired. We wonder at the use of paper though because it is not normally a very durable material but Mr Uedo tells us that this is washi, a hand-made paper. It is strong. Some of it is made from the inner bark of the paper mulberry tree and some from a mountain plant called gampi.
There is only one solid interior wall and this holds the tokonoma. This is a focal point, a beauty spot, and the finest timber and workmanship have gone into it. Mr Uedo has a scroll of fine calligraphy hanging there. He is rather unusual in being a Japanese Christian and a family altar is a notable omission.
We are intrigued by the tatami mats which cover the floors of all the major rooms. They are about five centimetres thick and, apparently, are always made to a standard size so that a room size may be given by the number of mats it will hold. Mr Uedo tells us that, although traditional, tatami mats also make good sense. They are warm in winter, cool in summer, firm enough to walk on and yet soft enough to lie on. We ask Mr Uedo if we may try lying down on one and he looks askance at our strange request but we are guests and he cannot refuse. He is right, they are soft.
Before we leave, we inspect the garden. Although not very large, it gives a sense of peace and tranquility. It is a place where one could easily forget the outside world. It has a pretty little waterfall and a limpid pool with languid brightly coloured carp. We wish Mr Uedo well in his retirement. 1b. It is quite a contrast to look at the housing of one of Mr Uedo’s employees. Toshio Tanaka is a draughtsman and lives in a large block of flats reminiscent of the concrete egg-crate style of architecture common in the former communist block countries. Being single, his need for space is not great but his flat is very small indeed. The genkan is merely a square metre of different flooring inside his door, more symbolic than real. There is only one main room which must be both lounge and bedroom and this opens straight onto the passage outside but there is also a door leading to a small balcony and a window looking out onto it.
The room seems full with just a desk, a chair, the T.V. and his stereo. A bed, except for a very narrow one, is entirely out of the question. A futon can at least be folded away to make more space.
The kitchen is simply an alcove and its ventilation is by extractor fan. Somehow, it manages to contain a double gas burner, a slender refrigerator with a microwave perched on top, a rice cooker, cupboards and a small sink bench. There is no way that Toshio can entertain guests