architectural museum, part two
The Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum also includes a number of more modern dwellings. The first one we looked at was once the private home of Kunio Mayekawa, an important Japanese architect who was instrument in developing some of the more moderns styles. This particular building was constructed in 1942 in Shinagawa:
The simplified lines and some of the building materials give evidence of the influence of western architectural trends, while the roofline itself and the sliding panels retain much of traditional Japanese architectural conventions.
The home below was a very unusual residence when it was built in 1925, almost fully adopting a western architectural style, influenced apparently by the Arts and Crafts movement, though maintaining the common tile roof and Japanese proportions:
The interior of the home is also very western. Noticeably absent is the straw-mat flooring that is often retained in at least one room of even contemporary Japanese homes. Except for some idiosyncrancies in the furnishing, for all one can tell, this could be a 1920s midwestern farmhouse in America:
The oldest structure at the museum is this shrine, dating from 1652 and built by Tokugawa Mitsutomo who was the ruler of the Owari fiefdom. It was constructed for his wife in honor of her mother who had been one of the wives of an important shogun:
The intricate carvings and brightly colored painting combine geometrical patterns with foliage and what appears to be a dragon's head:
Below is the 1902 house and garden of Korekiyo Takahashi, an important Japanese politician and onetime Prime Minister:
While holding the office of Finance Minister, Takahashi was assasinated on the second floor of this home during the February 26 Incident in 1936, an event in which an uprising of military officers killed several government officials and took over many important sites in Tokyo, virtually taking control of the city until supressed by the Emperor. The long-term effect of the uprising was to subvert and eliminate any remaining pro-peace factions, opening the door to further conquest of Asia and, ultimately, the Second World War.
As I mentioned earlier, public bathhouses remain part of Japanese culture, though the one below dates from 1929. It attempts to look something like a temple or palace, borrowing from Chinese architectural conventions:
The interior of the bathhouse is divided into men's and women's sides, with a wall dividing them, with an area for disrobing before entering into the baths. Here is the men's side bath, showing a large mural of Mt. Fuji:
The area of the architectural museum around the bath house re-created a street scene from pre-war Tokyo, including the bath house, several shops, a tavern, and so on. Among the shops was this kimono shop, taking up the first story of a two-story townhouse dating from 1879:
Two buildings, attached to one another as part of a row of shops, were built in 1927. The tiled building to the left was once a stationary and calligraphy shop, while the one on the right was a flower shop. Beyond these two buildings is one covered with green-patina copper-plate, dating from the same period, with apartments above and a kitchenwares shop on the main floor:
The evening after touring this great 17 acre museum site for several hours, we returned to the Smith home. Later I took the train over to Mitaka to meet up with Ralph. While waiting I took this photo of the Mitaka train station:
This station looks little different from others, but several notable aspects of Japanese train stations and the like are evident. First, it is spotlessly clean. This is all the more impressive once you realize that the station is far from brand-new and that there are no trash receptacles in view. The Japanese do not litter and, indeed, will regularly carry trash home with them to dispose of there.
Secondly, you'll note the yellow strips on the floor. These are ubiquitous in train stations, public places, and sidewalks of main streets. They apparently function as a means for the blind to find their way about, following ridges in the strips until they arrive at areas of raised dots that mark either a junction where paths split off or a stopping point such as a doorway into a building or a bus stop.
After meeting up with Ralph, he took me out to an Italian restaurant where I was pleasantly surprised to find excellent margarhita pizza, with a thin crispy crust, that went quite well with Japanese beer. I also had a tomato, mozzerella, and basil salad along with spaghetti carbonara. Again, I was surprised how good the Japanese were in making Italian food...though, of course, rumor has it that Italian food was brought back by Marco Polo from China (though tomatoes are New World), so perhaps it's not that big of a stretch for them.
(continue to next post: saturday lectures)
The simplified lines and some of the building materials give evidence of the influence of western architectural trends, while the roofline itself and the sliding panels retain much of traditional Japanese architectural conventions.
The home below was a very unusual residence when it was built in 1925, almost fully adopting a western architectural style, influenced apparently by the Arts and Crafts movement, though maintaining the common tile roof and Japanese proportions:
The interior of the home is also very western. Noticeably absent is the straw-mat flooring that is often retained in at least one room of even contemporary Japanese homes. Except for some idiosyncrancies in the furnishing, for all one can tell, this could be a 1920s midwestern farmhouse in America:
The oldest structure at the museum is this shrine, dating from 1652 and built by Tokugawa Mitsutomo who was the ruler of the Owari fiefdom. It was constructed for his wife in honor of her mother who had been one of the wives of an important shogun:
The intricate carvings and brightly colored painting combine geometrical patterns with foliage and what appears to be a dragon's head:
Below is the 1902 house and garden of Korekiyo Takahashi, an important Japanese politician and onetime Prime Minister:
While holding the office of Finance Minister, Takahashi was assasinated on the second floor of this home during the February 26 Incident in 1936, an event in which an uprising of military officers killed several government officials and took over many important sites in Tokyo, virtually taking control of the city until supressed by the Emperor. The long-term effect of the uprising was to subvert and eliminate any remaining pro-peace factions, opening the door to further conquest of Asia and, ultimately, the Second World War.
As I mentioned earlier, public bathhouses remain part of Japanese culture, though the one below dates from 1929. It attempts to look something like a temple or palace, borrowing from Chinese architectural conventions:
The interior of the bathhouse is divided into men's and women's sides, with a wall dividing them, with an area for disrobing before entering into the baths. Here is the men's side bath, showing a large mural of Mt. Fuji:
The area of the architectural museum around the bath house re-created a street scene from pre-war Tokyo, including the bath house, several shops, a tavern, and so on. Among the shops was this kimono shop, taking up the first story of a two-story townhouse dating from 1879:
Two buildings, attached to one another as part of a row of shops, were built in 1927. The tiled building to the left was once a stationary and calligraphy shop, while the one on the right was a flower shop. Beyond these two buildings is one covered with green-patina copper-plate, dating from the same period, with apartments above and a kitchenwares shop on the main floor:
The evening after touring this great 17 acre museum site for several hours, we returned to the Smith home. Later I took the train over to Mitaka to meet up with Ralph. While waiting I took this photo of the Mitaka train station:
This station looks little different from others, but several notable aspects of Japanese train stations and the like are evident. First, it is spotlessly clean. This is all the more impressive once you realize that the station is far from brand-new and that there are no trash receptacles in view. The Japanese do not litter and, indeed, will regularly carry trash home with them to dispose of there.
Secondly, you'll note the yellow strips on the floor. These are ubiquitous in train stations, public places, and sidewalks of main streets. They apparently function as a means for the blind to find their way about, following ridges in the strips until they arrive at areas of raised dots that mark either a junction where paths split off or a stopping point such as a doorway into a building or a bus stop.
After meeting up with Ralph, he took me out to an Italian restaurant where I was pleasantly surprised to find excellent margarhita pizza, with a thin crispy crust, that went quite well with Japanese beer. I also had a tomato, mozzerella, and basil salad along with spaghetti carbonara. Again, I was surprised how good the Japanese were in making Italian food...though, of course, rumor has it that Italian food was brought back by Marco Polo from China (though tomatoes are New World), so perhaps it's not that big of a stretch for them.
(continue to next post: saturday lectures)
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