Our last event before lockdown was a talk with the Japanese architect Akihisa Hirata and Walmer Yard’s architect Peter Salter. Both speakers discussed one of their own housing projects in relation to craft, materiality and the interpretation of home.
Here we share an edited transcript of Peter Salter’s discussion on his early work in Japan and how that led on to influence some of the ideas at Walmer Yard.
Peter Salter: Influences from Japan
The projects which I did in Japan were the result of Arata Isozaki and Alvin Boyarsky, who invited me to go there with my partner, Chris Macdonald. It is interesting because this was in 1990, and up until that point, not many architects went to Japan.
There was a whole earlier period of the Metabolists and Archigram but then there was a kind of gap. Isozaki came and asked Boyarksy, who was the head of the Architectural Association (AA) at the time, if he could recommend people to make a series of follies in Osaka. And so we were chosen, alongside Peter Wilson and all of the people basically teaching at the AA in those days, like Daniel Libeskind and Zaha Hadid and then some others from America.
Drawing of the folly for the Garden and Greenery Expo, Osaka
This is our folly for the Garden and Greenery Expo in Osaka.
Plan of the folly for the Garden and Greenery Expo, Osaka
The plan changed very often but basically in the end we made four lumps of earth. Those pieces of earth acted like bouys, which you navigated around.
The structure of the folly
In the end we couldn’t make the structure because it was cold moulded timber – a bit like the yurt structures on the top of Walmer Yard. There is a kind of family of forms that you use again and again. It was made of canvas held in form by a set of timber struts, which were done in the same way as a Japanese Minka house. There are very large pieces of structure, and then they are infilled with these smaller, finer pieces.
The rammed earth walls of the folly
The main thing I want to talk about is the earth. When you go to Nara all of the precincts around Nara are made from rammed earth. They are constructed by putting a new layer of 75mm of rammed earth on the walls each year. Whereas we made ours in 19 days – it was very quick.
I’ll tell you about things we didn’t know about when we did our rammed earth. We ran out of clay, which is why there is all the striped clays. It was August in Japan so it rains a lot so we put a tile course in. The terrifying thing was the water content that came out of it. It sort of leached out of the rammed earth and as it did great lumps of earth came out too. So we were a bit desperate – we were worried it wasn’t going to last the Expo. Anyway, some wise person said don’t worry about it because gradually the water content will evaporate and the rate of erosion will go down.
The thing that’s nice about this project is that – which is really nothing to do with us – it was one of the coolest follies in the Expo because it had all this water leaching out of the earth. People went in there because in August it is really hot. So they would go in there with their umbrellas and stand and sit there cooling down.
Drawings of the Thai fish restaurant
This is the Thai fish restaurant in Tokyo, which I did for Toyo Ito in 1995. He asked me to make a fish restaurant in one of the floors of what he told me was his first public building.
Once you entered there was a little pavilion and you went through right to the back of the site. There was a kind of bar and a place for more formal eating. Then if you really wanted to be expensive, you could hire a dining vessel, which you entered though a kind of folding staircase.
We were so constrained by the really deep beams and heavy structure. The columns were 1m in diameter – we were dealing with a really heavy structure because of earthquakes. So I used the notion of trying to clog up this space of all this structure with great lumps of timber.
From the windows you see there are two volcanoes. And all of the settlement was around the volcanoes – they weren’t active. This notion of the settlement from the volcano, and then the settlement around these lumps starts to come to play.
Akihisa Hirata talked about the space inbetween, and it is all about the space inbetween. You walk all the way through the thickness of the building, and then you arrive, and then life begins in a way. So it’s not quite the space inbetween but its certainly trying to work with the thickness and the length of the space.
The Mountain Pavilion, Kamiichi, Toyama
In 1995 we were invited to do another Expo – Expo Toyama. It was up in the skiing resorts of Japan. I made a building which is 30m tall, because it literally gets 12m of snow.
One of the things they do in Minka houses is they put up structures specifically for the snow so that you can walk in this inbetween space and the structure which has all the snow loaded onto it. So I used this notion of making a boat with the shells of the boat keeping the snow away. The pavilion is a boat and the snow is its water. Inside it you have a set of rooms – one of which you can see the peaks of Mount Tateyama.
Inside the Toyama Pavilion
The interior of a Minka house
Above is a picture from a Minka house which shows you the kind of very formal, very beautiful rooms and how they sit with the exposed structure above and it gets darker and darker. Then to the left is an image of the back of the shell and this is one of the rooms in the pavilion. You are literally walking in very dark circumstances in the space inbetween.
The plan of the pavilion in the landscape
It was about how you arrived when you first saw the building and then when you got into the building, you had to move in a very determined way.
The other thing, which is very similar to the yurts at Walmer Yard, is that it was done with diamond copper tiles, because the structure is quite varied. The faceting is very soft, very gentle, like at Walmer Yard. In order to retain that faceting we used copper tiles as you couldn’t do it with straight standing seam copper. The tiles bent around the facets of the building.
Sketches of the pavilion
I suppose my greatest influences are the Japanese Minka houses with their kind of delicacy and strength mixed together.
An image of a bedroom in Venice
All of those projects were all about a kind of gloominess. Above is a picture of a bedroom in Venice. What is so beautiful about that picture is the light is just bending around the wall. And it’s working very softly with the bedspreads and the curtains. It’s just beautiful. I wanted to make all the rooms in Walmer Yard have a similar quality.
How the light gets into these rooms is quite important. Most of the light is from the top ranges of windows, which spreads light on the ceiling and the ceiling then reflects the light into the interior of the room.
Images of Japanese Minka houses
In the Minka house, the floor defines the space. We step up into the kitchen area and then again onto the tatami matted floor. The whole thing about thresholds, which you’ll see at Walmer Yard, is very similar. You step up onto the floor and then you know that you have arrived.
A photograph of one of the bedrooms at Walmer Yard showing the light coming in through the different windows
This is my favourite bedroom at Walmer Yard. What is interesting about the Minka houses is the kind of patchwork of different clays and paper screens. I just think that it is so beautiful. So in Walmer Yard we try to make a patchwork of different materials. In the image below you get in-situ concrete, brown clay and white clay. We use the white clay sometimes to try and get more light into the room or to enliven a dark corner.
The patchwork of materials at Walmer Yard
We remade a lot of silk kimonos to make these bedspreads.
And you can imagine that if we had to have food on the floor that we would
cover ourselves, our knees with these bedspreads.
The lacquered finish of the wardrobe doors
The steel of the bathrooms
The light across the clay walls
This is sprayed lacquered resin and in some instances you can’t tell the lacquer colour – which is an indigo colour – from the steel. Steel is black, the lacquer is blue and the two things start to merge and you can’t tell the form. These are curved forms just like the bathrooms are curved.
Inside a Minka house
This is another Minka House. One of the Minka houses I went into where the person would pass through this little corridor space every day for 50 years. The clay had worn off and the colour had leached from it. I really like the idea of how the thing wears.
The clay and straw walls of the Yurt
These are two images of the yurt upstairs, where you can see the chopped straw and how the light catches the chopped straw so that you get the darkness against the bright yellow strands.
We were always taught that when you looked at vernacular buildings, what you did is you took the principle but you didn’t take the image of it, but it’s really difficult not to get caught up with that.
Dialogue: Hirata and Salter was originally held at Walmer Yard on 21 February 2020.
Learning from Japan (Part one)
As we move more of our programming online, we thought we would revisit some of our past lectures, talks and discussions, that have taken place as part of our seasons on The Lesser Senses and Domesticity.
Our last event before lockdown was a talk with the Japanese architect Akihisa Hirata and Walmer Yard’s architect Peter Salter. Both speakers discussed one of their own housing projects in relation to craft, materiality and the interpretation of home.
Here we share an edited transcript of Akihisa Hirata’s lecture on his project Treeness House.
Akihisa Hirata: Japan-ness in Architecture
Yamamiyasengentaisya, Fuji
I’d like to begin with this picture, which shows a very ancient type of shrine beside Mount Fuji. In ancient times, there was no building – the void space is the shrine. The mountain is mystical, so the shrine doesn’t have to be a concrete building, but has to have some space to see the mountain. It shows the relationship between the natural and artificial in Japan.
Japanese roofscapes
The mountain
This is a picture from my book, which shows the roof, and the picture below shows the mountain. I think they are very similar to each other as the roof is made to make the water flow on the surface and then the mountain is made by the flow of rainwater. So, in a sense this mountain is the same as the roof. An architect thinks that they are designing the roof, but actually, what they are doing is part of nature. If you look down from the sky, the activities of human beings, are almost like the activity of a microorganism on the surface of the ground. It is like part of the natural movement. Thinking about these similarities between the natural and artificial, is very key to Japanese culture and there are some specific words which relate to it and are very striking to me. One is Shakkei, which means borrowed scenery.
Entsuji Temple
This is a photograph of the garden in the Entsuji temple, north of Kyoto designed by the ancient emperor Go-Mizuno. This garden is designed just to look at this mountain to the north of the city. It is very surprising because by making this view, the mountain – the natural thing – becomes almost artificial.
Honpouji Tomoe Garden designed by Koetsu Honami
Drawing of Honpouji Tomoe Garden
Another type of thinking about the Japanese garden is inclusive order. The image above shows the Honpouji Tomoe Garden designed by Koetsu Honami. I visited this temple with some of my students at Kyoto University with the garden designer and he showed us how he designed this type of garden. He recommend that we throw the colour on the drawing only on the part where there was existing stone and by doing this we could see the structure of the garden. Even if the plants were changed or replaced by another plant in 100 to 300 years, still this garden would be the garden by Honami because the configuration of the stone makes the garden original.
Akihisa Hirata’s students at the Honpouji Tomoe Garden
Saihoji Temple Garden designed by Muso-soseki
This type of structure is seen in many gardens in Japan. The photograph above is of the Saihoji Temple Garden designed by Muso-soseki. The structure of the garden is made by the pond and the stones. Most of the grounds will be changed over a long time span but the main structure of the garden will still be there.
I think there are similarities between my architectural thinking and this Japanese garden thinking. The diagram above is from my book. It shows the fish roe tagging on the seaweed, and this seaweed is tagging on the ocean. There is a hierarchical system to this order. It is very architectural. Looking at this, it is almost like a rock in the garden and these smaller elements are like the plants or the moss of the garden. If we could use the structure of the architecture to make this type of order there would be an inclusiveness in the architecture. Making architecture is like making a garden.
Joan designed by Urakusai Oda
The above photographs are of the typical Japanese teahouse – Joan, designed by Urakusai Oda. It shows the scale and savageness in the architecture of the Japanese tea house. It is very small – just 2m x 1m, with a height of 2.5m. But inside this small scale and limited space, we have many types of smaller scales and materials. And also, there are natural elements like trees and soil. So even though this tea house is sophisticated, there are elements which come from a savage situation. It makes the whole thing really interesting.
The main space is 2m x 2m and there is a fireplace where the master sits. There is a recessed space called the toko where decorative items are placed. People coming from the outside come through an entrance, which is called the nijiriguchi. This is really small – almost 1m lower in height and smaller than 1m x 1m. You have to crawl through it and it is like the visitor is being born when they enter.
The angawa space at Kohoan, designed by Ensyu Kobori
Another example of Japanese space is the intermediate area between interior and exterior, which is sometimes called angawa. It is an inbetween space – between the inside tatami space and the outside garden space. It is a floor which connects these two elements. In my architecture, I dream of making something like this angawa space. In traditional Japanese architecture it is a very two dimensional space and I am trying to make an inbetween space which is three-dimensional – like butterflies flying inbetween branches or flowers.
So these butterflies are flying, enjoying this type of inbetweenness.
Treeness House by Akihisa Hirata
What I was trying to do in Treeness House was to make it as if the occupant is flying inbetween the flowers in a three-dimensional garden.
The word ‘Treeness’ comes from the three sides of the project – the trunk, then the branches and the leaves. I tried to combine these three different types of order in a hierarchical way and in a way suited to the urban situation.
This house and gallery is situated in the downtown area in Tokyo. The ground floor consists of rock-like elements which are boxy, concrete shapes. The gallery itself is a 6m x 6m x6m box that can be connected by a large door to the void space and the outside.
Plans of Treeness House
As you move up the floors of the building it gradually incorporates more natural elements with a mixture of inside and outside space.
The view through from the dining space to the living space
The photograph above shows this mix of indoor and outdoor spaces. The dining room is in the front and then we see the living room in the distance but inbetween these two spaces there is a void which faces onto greenery. It is a bit similar to the scale of the teahouse where you can sit in an intimate way and spend time in a private space.
The interior spaces of Treeness House
I was looking at the idea of using pleats in architecture and I adapted the pleated geometry to create the windows of Treeness House. There are 17 different types of pleated windows. They were made by using 9mm-thick steel panels welded together, and were made in a factory and then brought to site and connected to the concrete base.
The steel ‘pleated’ structures being made in a factory, installed on site and then as complete
The scenery of Tokyo has a flow of grand buildings and smaller buildings almost like a forest. I think it is really interesting that this three-dimensional house adds to the continuity of this scenery.
Dialogue: Hirata and Salter was originally held at Walmer Yard on 21 February 2020. Part two, which will be Peter Salter’s lecture, will be published later this week.
Japanese architect Akihisa Hirata will join the architect of Walmer Yard Peter Salter and the London-based practice OMMX for a discussion looking at how the architecture of Japan has influenced their work.
Each of the speakers
will talk about one of their own housing projects in relation to craft,
materiality and the interpretation of home.
Hirata’s futuristic Tree-ness House – a complex stack of concrete boxes containing living and gallery spaces – will contrast with the materiality and textures of Walmer Yard, which will be discussed by Salter.
The discussion will be chaired by Walmer Yard’s Keeper Laura Mark.
The meaning
of domesticity can shift from person to person, but what happens when we
compare the definition of home in contexts as different as Mexico and the UK?
In this conversation with Keeper of Walmer Yard Laura Mark, the Mexican architect and Royal Academy Dorfman Award finalist Fernanda Canales will explore topics of domesticity and housing through examples of her own work.
From
projects such as Béstegui Housing (2019) to Bruma House (2017), her work
focusses on the in-between spaces that are neither public nor private.
Canales will also reflect on the architecture and experiences of Walmer Yard within this context and take a closer look at whether an invitation to slow down and contemplate our surroundings is one of the answers to how we ought to live together.
The first in Walmer Yard and Natoora’s Supper Club series, this unique night will merge great food and quality produce in the architectural setting of Walmer Yard with conversations around domesticity and the home.
The first season of
events at Walmer Yard takes a look at contemporary domesticity and how
technology is changing our domestic behaviours. In a world where how we consume
food is changing, where kitchens are becoming smaller, and we turn to apps like
Deliveroo and UberEats for our food, this slow dinner will open up
conversations about the future of how we eat in the home.
Natoora’s selection of produce will explore the seasonality of the food we eat as their growers guide guests through the intensity of end of season winter produce to the delicate flavours of new spring growth with a five course meal that captures the incredible flavour combinations that a slower approach to seasonality brings.
‘Assemblage: art that is made by assembling disparate elements – often everyday objects.’
Named an assemblage to reflect the gathering of many different speakers, participants and formats taking place during the day, this event will launch the public programme at Walmer Yard and will take the form of a series of encounters and events held across the homes and centred around the theme of Domesticity.
Following a key note presentation in Walmer Yard’s ‘coats-on lecture theatre’ by Shumi Bose, a series of workshops, smaller talks and film screenings will take place across the four houses, tackling the juxtaposition of the absence of technology in Walmer Yard with the current increasing presence of technology in our domestic environments.
Guests will be encouraged to explore the homes throughout the afternoon while the interventions happen in tandem across the spaces.
In the living room, the Feminist Internet will host a workshop exploring the gender stereotypes created by personal intelligent assistants like Siri, Alexa and Cortana and the implications this has on the design of our homes and domesticity.
Across the bedrooms Gonzalo Herrero Delicado, architecture curator at the Royal Academy of Arts, will host a series of conversations addressing the use of technology in the home. These will also explore the means in which we communicate with those who we live or share our domestic spaces with. From the bed Gonzalo will conduct conversations with speakers not just in the same room but also located in New York and Spain. Those joining Gonzalo ‘in bed’ include architecture practice Space Popular, curator of the Design Museum’s latest show Home Futures Eszter Steierhoffer, and artists Fru*Fru.
In the kitchen Bompas and Parr will lead an exciting workshop reimagining the future of the napkin.
Conversations around the dinner tables will discuss how we use our kitchens, what the meaning of home means to those who have been displaced, houses as a place of work, and the changing nature of the private, social and romantic spaces of the home.
While in the media room showings of Ila Beka and Louise Lemoine’s Koolhaas Houselife will explore the daily life of the housekeeper and those responsible for looking after Maison à Bordeaux, designed by OMA in 1998.
The day will conclude with a panel discussion and a drinks reception to celebrate the launch of the Baylight Foundation at Walmer Yard.
Forum is Walmer Yard’s new reading group. Each month a figure from the world of art, architecture, or science will choose a text which participants are encouraged to read. We will then join together to discuss the ideas and issues raised in the text over a glass of wine in one of the living rooms at Walmer Yard.
The first event in this series will see architectural historian and broadcaster Tom Dyckhoff select a text based around our inaugural season’s theme of Domesticity.
He will then join Walmer Yard’s Keeper Laura Mark in conversation as we open up the discussion around this critical reader.
The eponymous 1982 publication, looks at the work of a group of American feminists including Melusina Fay Peirce, Mary Livermore, and Charlotte Perkins Gilman, who campaigned against women’s isolation in the home and confinement to domestic life as the basic cause of their unequal position in society.
In looking at this group’s plans to transform American neighbourhoods through communal kitchens, housewives’ co-operatives and new building types, Hayden brings to light the economic and spatial contradictions which outdated forms of housing and inadequate community services create for women and for their families.
‘This is a book that is full of things I have never seen before, and full of new things to say about things I thought I knew well. It is a book about houses and about culture and about how each affects the other, and it must stand as one of the major works on the history of modern housing.’ – Paul Goldberger, The New York Times Book Review