Architect Tadao Ando designed the “Row House of Sumiyoshi” in 1976, which became one of his earliest and most famous works. Despite the fact that it was a tiny, low-budget/profile project, it ended up defining Ando’s career as it received the Architectural Institute of Japan Prizes in 1979, which transformed him from unknown architect a nationally recognized star. The project also highlighted the spirit of the “nobushi (maverick samurai)” architects – young and ambitious Japanese architects like Ando who emerged in the 70’s and sought unconventional value in architecture.
Japanese architecture in the 1970s
When the Row House of Sumiyoshi was completed in 1976, it stirred controversy because it was not like any other projects. Some people who did not understand its meaning criticized it, but others absolutely loved it. In a sense, the Row House of Sumiyoshi – that had no openings toward the surrounding community – was an “introvert” project whereas the conventional projects always focused on creating values for the society.
It was probably not a coincidence that Ando worked on unconventional and ambitious projects in the 70’s. It was the same year architect Toyo Ito designed “White U,” another “introvert” project. According to Ito, “From the end of the 60’s to early 70’s, young, budding architects including me were excited about the Metabolism movement, which offered a completely new value for what architecture could do for the society.” The Osaka International Expo in 1970, whose architectural project was led by Kenzo Tange and a group of Metabolism architects, showcased the calumniation of the movement. Although the event was a great success and people highly praised the design of many facilities, Ito was “disappointed.” He felt that the Metabolism lost its sense of purpose, and he was no longer sure how Japanese architects should or would move forward. “I think our generation came to a realization that architecture could not solve many social issues. It felt more appropriate for us to explore our inner world through our design.” It explains why Ando’s Row House of Sumiyoshi was a concrete box with no openings that connected it with the community.
The Row House of Sumiyoshi Project
住吉の長屋, or the “Row House of Sumiyoshi,” was a renovation project of the middle unit of a Japanese traditional “nagaya” style multiplex that connected three small traditional wooden houses. The project was, therefore, sandwiched by two similarly small nagaya houses. The owner asked Ando to demolish the old structure and build and furnish a new home with the budget of only about $100,000. Because of the setting, the project had limited flexibilities, but the owner requested Ando to somehow stay connected with the outside environment.
But how would you do that? As Ando himself grew up in nagayam he transfused his own nagaya experiences into the new house – in an unexpected and bold way.
The Nagaya that helped shape Ando’s architecture
The nagaya has a long history in Japan. Although the format has existed since the Middle Ages, it became popular in the Edo era (1601-1868) as the population grew in Japan and urban/commercial areas expanded. It was a horizontally long structure divided into many small units in order to accommodate as many families as possible in a limited space. Each unit was a small, narrow rectanglar space with only a couple of rooms. The entrance was on the short side.
The nagaya was the opposite of modern homes in every way. It was small. It shared structure and the surrounding environment with the neighbors, offering little privacy. It was wooden, frail and susceptible to bad weather. Ando’s own experience growing up in nagaya was not easy either. In winter, chilly wind would leak into the house through broken windows, freezing the 10 year-old Ando under a thin blanket. The storm would rattle the entire structure. The rooms in which he did homework became dark after the sun set. Bugs and pests could easily sneak in. The neighborhood was full of kids and the fights erupted all the time. But for Ando, the “discomfort” he experienced living in nagaya was never something he wanted to “eliminate” or pretend that it never existed. Quite the opposite, Ando always sought ways to embrace the environment and climate as is. Living in the nagaya, he learned to appreciate the overwhelming power of raw nature, which was both a threat and a blessing. Summer could be painfully hot and sticky, and winter could be grim, frosty or icy. But the same harsh nature delivered beautiful light, water, abundant beauty and precious resources. From Ando’s perspective, nature always had two faces with bright and dark side. It was embracing and menacing. It was kind but brutal.
Such duality made humans resilient. Faced with the overwhelming power of nature, people thought, tried, failed, tried again and endured. It was this honest collision of nature and humans, and the resilience humans exhibited that formed Ando’ fundamental philosophy that architecture needed to be “experienced.” And when Ando says “experience,” it means experience fully, not just the comfortable side of nature.
The Plan of the Row House of Sumiyoshi
His plan was to insert an almost completely closed, no-frill concrete box, which would be sandwiched between the wooden nagaya units. As you can see, there are no windows on the blank walls. There was no electricity or air conditioning either. It almost looks as if it was completely isolated from the outside environment. But of course, that was not how nagaya was traditionally designed, nor how Ando viewed the relationship of the environment and humans.
So Ando inserted a traditional nagaya device in the middle of the house: a small patio. Since the traditional nagaya (and also the machiya) was the collection of small houses standing close to each other, they typically had small patios called tsubo-niwa or tori-niwa (pass-through patio) in the middle of the house in order to secure sunlight and ventilation.
Ando embedded a tori-niwa patio in the middle of the house, which was literally a pass-through. It cut the entire house into two completely separated areas, and the residents had to walk through the patio in order to go to the other side of the house. As the bedroom was at the front and the bathroom was at the rear end, on a rainy day the owner family had to use an umbrella to cross the patio to go to the bathroom. When it was cold, it was hard on their feet.
Because there was no heating, the owner would ask: “Ando-san, what should we do in winter when it gets cold?” Ando would reply, “Sure, why don’t you put on a sweater?” And the owner goes: “What if it’s still cold?” “Put on more sweaters.” “What if it’s still cold?” “Sorry, there’s nothing more I can do for you. Leverage your physical strength and live with it!”
“Sustainable Living” according to Ando
It that was not enough, Ando added a small opening in the ceiling of the entrance through which the rain would come in. And because there was no electrical lighting, the residents had to leverage the sunlight coming through the patio. (But this must be where Ando’s mastery to marry the surface of the exposed concrete and the rays of light started.)
This project is definitely not what we think of as “sustainable living” or “living in harmony with nature” in the modern context, but Ando jokingly declares that it was the first 100% “net zero house,” because it used no electricity. For Ando, nature always had to be whole, and living was almost equal to survival. That’s how he grew up, and that’s how he perceived the relationship between nature and humans, and between society and himself.
In addition to the Architectural Institute of Japan Prizes in 1979, the project was also nominated for the Isoya Yoshida Award, for which renowned architect Togo Murano was one of the judges. When he visited the place as part of the selection process, he famously said that: “If this project were to with the award, it should be given to the brave owner who is living and surviving in this environment.”
Ando’s approach is eye-opening for us who live in the modern environment. When we think about “living in harmony with nature,” we only think about the nice, beautiful, comfortable side of nature. But Ando reminds us that we are missing half of the real face of nature.
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