Summer Living and the Elements

Wind

A house should be built with summer in mind

photography by Katsuhisa Kida / text by Editorial Staff

In his Essays in Idleness, Kamakura-period (1185-1333) writer Yoshida Kenko states: "A house should be built with summer in mind." This suggests that designing a house with the focus on summer comfort is important to living out Japan's four seasons—the summer is that unbearably hot and humid.

Many examples of contemporary architecture feature large openings that facilitate the flow of air and afford comfortable summer living. Pleasant breezes blow through and wide eaves block the sun's strong rays.

In the words of Takaharu and Yui Tezuku, the architect team that has designed several such homes, "We think the greatest difference between Western and Japanese houses is the way they regard the window. In the West it is seen as something through which to view scenery, while in Japan it is a means of drawing in the wind. At first glance, Mies van der Rohe's Farnsworth House in the suburbs of Chicago appears similar to Japanese sukiya-style (teahouse-style) architecture, except that glass window-walls cladding three sides never open. Thus in the final analysis, it is Western architecture. By comparison, machiya townhouses always factored in natural ventilation. We're translating Japanese wood-frame architecture into a contemporary vocabulary."

Large, movable windows on the north and south facades, open spaces divided by movable partitions—these are evidence that contemporary sensibilities and technologies have created a breathing yet heat-insulating "house without walls."

Above right: Without a single solid wall on three sides, the garden and surrounding scenery feel like part of the room when the glass doors are open. Even without corner posts, the dwelling is structurally sound and visually expansive. There is a sense of openness, of being out in the woods where residents can feel the wind. Left: Built on a narrow, north-south hilltop lot, the design preserves the expansive view to the north, letting the southern light in through the roof. With the north and south window-walls open, breezes blow right through the house as if it were a tube.

Living with the wind

text by Wako Arai

Since the age of the Manyoshu (the earliest extant collection of Japanese poetry dating from the fifth to mid-eighth century), the Japanese have referred to the wind in everything from the calendar to poetry. The wind's meteorological panoply is also profoundly broad. There is a wind for every season and names differ by region and force.

Kaze-dori refers to drawing the wind into the house as an aid for living in a hot, humid climate—for examples, structuring the living space to make the wind flow through smoothly. This was achieved by removing fusuma and shoji doors, and outfitting the space with bamboo and rattan screens and furnishings for summer, known as natsu-zashiki (literally, summer tatami parlor). By removing the partitions, rooms also appear spacious, giving them the appearance of coolness as well.

The Japanese language is full of words that reference the wind. For example, furyu (composed of the characters for wind and flowing) alludes to refined aesthetic tastes, like a refreshing breeze moving the heart—sensed but not seen. Similarly, words like fushu (composed of the characters for wind and charm), fuga (wind and grace), and fuzei (wind and sentiment) all contain the character for wind and all relate to the concerns of people with discerning and well-cultivated tastes. Fujin (wind and person) is another word for poet; furaibo (wind, come, and boy) indicates a wanderer—only the wind, after all, knows the destination of a cloud adrift. There is a town in Japan called Kazanashi (windless) where there are in fact strong winds; the name indicates the wish to be spared wind damage. There are also many examples of names for the wind used by sailors and fishermen becoming popular terms.

In Japan, the word aoi has long indicated being tinged the color green. Aota-kaze (green, paddy field, wind) and aoba-kaze (green, leaves, wind) both express scenes of green grasses and trees swaying in the wind. The word kaza-iro (wind-color) alludes to the wind's movement as sensed through the motion of plants and trees, and kunpu (fragrant wind) refers to a refreshing, gentle, early summer breeze. Colorless and odorless by all standards, the wind—in the mind of the Japanese—has come to possess hue and fragrance. They hang harvested rice plants on racks to dry in the wind and do the same with fish, meat, and vegetables. Drying in the wind, they lose heat through evaporation. As a result the flavors are more concentrated and delicious, described as increased fumi (wind flavor).

Indeed, one might call Japan the land of the wind.

Articles from the 2004 SUMMER issue:

• Summer Living and the Elements: Wind - Light - Water
• New Kabuki in America: Kabuki Tour Preview - Nakamura Kankuro Interview
• Japanese Cuisine in New York: Matsuri - Masa - Megu - 21 Other Restaurants
• The Top 12 Matsuri of Summer
• Kimono Chic for Men

Kateigaho International Edition Issues:

2005 SUMMER - 2005 SPRING - 2005 WINTER

2004 AUTUMN - 2004 SUMMER - 2004 SPRING - 2004 WINTER

2003 AUTUMN - INAUGURAL ISSUE