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THE CHURCH OF LIGHT BY TADAO ANDO

After several years of living in Japan, I was finally able to visit the Church of Light in Ibaraki City, which was completed in May 1989. The main materials are off-shutter concrete, steel and glass with timber interiors. I must say that, even though it felt impossible to take a bad photo, I feel the images simply do not do the architecture justice at all. You really have to be there to feel your heart beat faster from the power of the building. 

I couldn’t stop rubbing my hands along the smoothness of the concrete walls. True craftsmanship! I also couldn’t stop looking up to the sky. The walls are really high and yet that seems to accentuate the need to look up. I know this is something that Ando does in his designs, but I feel it works especially well here in a church. 

I absolutely loved the contrast of strong geometric shapes, light and shadow, and cold and warm materials. It reminded me of a monochromatic 3D version of a Wassily Kandinsky German Expressionist painting. 

The only thing I regret is not going on a Sunday. Being in the two chapels made me long to hear the spaces filled with voices of worship. If you are ever near Kyoto/Osaka/Ibaraki in Japan, I would put this church at the top of your must-see list! 

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Kitanotenmangu Shrine

When you live and work in a city like Kyoto for long enough, you eventually stop appreciating the beautiful, historic architecture surrounding you. So, as a way to combat this, I decided to really engage with the history, architecture and stories behind the temples and shrines that I visit. And what I discovered was pretty damn awesome, even if I’m the only one who thinks so. 

As it’s spring, I decided to begin this new journey of appreciation at a shrine that is not well-known among foreigners. Kitano-tenmangu Shrine’s garden full of early-blooming plum blossoms, seemed a good place to start. To most people, it just looks like another timber-constructed shrine that is perhaps a little run-down. However, the history behind it really brings the architecture to life. 

So, what’s the story then? In the late 800’s, when Kyoto City was still the capital, there was a court noble who was famous for his strong mind. His name was Sugawara Michizane. The emperor at the time, Emperor Uda, thought Sugawara was so awesome and clever that he continuously gave him gifts and bragged about him. Obviously you can imagine that people were jealous of this rock star so they started rumors that ruined poor Sugawara’s reputation. As a result, he was eventually exiled to Kyushu, where he died in 903.   Fast forward a few years, back to Kyoto, when a whole lot of disasters started occurring. There were dramatic lightning storms, and raging fires, that were destroying people’s homes. This was pretty unusual, so eventually the locals reasoned that Sugawara’s spirit must have been taking revenge on them for sending him to exile. And thus Sugawara was the first man to be deified in the Shinto religion, and in 947 the Kitanotenmangu Shrine was constructed to appease his vengeful spirit. And now his deified form has the awesome title of Karai Tenjin (the God of Fire and Thunder).

With this story in mind, you can start to appreciate the shrine architecture and the way people use it. For starters, this is clearly the place to be during exam time. There are literally people of all ages queuing up to pay their respects to Karai Tenjin. As Sugawara was known for his devotion to knowledge and learning during his lifetime, his spirit is considered the patron of learning. Thus, during exam time, it’s common to see people flock to the shrine hoping that rubbing the head of one of the many cow statues will make them more intelligent and improve their test scores. I’m a bit skeptical, but hey – whatever you think will help!   Let's move on to the architecture. While many shrines around Asia are brightly colored, this is not common in Japan, apart from the orangey-red color of the tori-gates. This shrine is different, however, as it was constructed in the Momoyama period style, which is popular for its use of panels and statues painted in bright colors and gold leaf. But before I go into detail, check out this site map to get a better idea of the layout. *Sorry for the poor photo quality – It was impossible to avoid the shadows on the glass*

Like all Japanese Shinto shrines, Kitano-tenmangu has a tori-gate that marks the end of the human world and the beginning of the sacred world of the deities. There are actually three tori-gates before the entrance gate to the shrine, which has guardian lion-dog statues (komainu) on either side. 

Once you have gone through the Tower Gate at the entrance, you enter the main shrine complex. When you fork to the left and walk north, you pass several smaller shrines and cow statues (more opportunities to improve your cramming skills). And then you come up to the incredible Starless Gate - the entrance to the inner shrine courtyard. It is called the Starless Gate because a sun and moon have been carved into the wood panel, without a star. Along the west and east of the inner courtyard are music chambers, which are linked to the Starless Gate and Main worship building with one continuous roof structure. The cyprus bark roof structure is interesting as it was constructed in the yatsu-mune-zukuri style (or the gongen-zukuri style), which literally translates to eight-bridge construction, although there are only seven ridges. Apparently the original term yatsu simply meant many.

So basically, through creating this blog post, I rediscovered the joys of visiting a Japanese shrine, and I realised what a big part the story behind the architecture plays. There's always a reason a building is built, from a place to house a family, to a place to enshrine a new deified human spirit. Every work of architecture is like a monument to its own story and history, and its up to us to read between its lines and listen to its tales. The moral of this story: beware of becoming complacent to the beauty that surrounds you. [Oh, and if you see a cow, don't forget to rub its head!]

[archillustrator]

make your own tracks

“So you have a Masters degree in architecture? Uh … then what are you doing teaching English to high school kids in Japan?”

I feel like that’s the reaction I get when people find out what I studied. And to be honest, I often ask myself the same question. Obviously the norm is to go out and actually do what you spent the last 6 years studying to do. Right? Well I’ve never been one to do things the easy [boring] way. I just had to move to Japan. It felt like the best choice at the time, even though it didn’t make much sense to anybody (including myself). But looking back nearly 3 years later, I’m starting to understand why I needed the shift so badly.

A lot of it had to do with the fact that my degree resulted from 6 years of constant stress, all-nighters, crit sessions that continuously deflated my self-confidence, and a few nights spent in hospital on our research trip in Tanzania. In fact it was in that hospital bed where I made my crazy decision to get my degree and then get the hell out of the profession. I didn’t want anything to do with architecture for … well, I wasn’t quite sure how long at that point. I am convinced that I was suffering from a type of post-traumatic stress disorder that left me feeling anxious and shaky in social situations. It seems crazy that a few years at a university can do that to someone, right?

So I decided to throw caution to the wind and crawl out of the campus studio building, to explore this gigantic world around me. I felt so naïve, coming from a small, sheltered suburb in Cape Town. I had travelled fairly often, but those were just holidays, really. I hadn’t fully experienced the real depth of another culture outside of South Africa. I was determined to challenge my personal growth and ignore architecture for as long as I needed to. A part of me refused to think about going back to the profession. I was going to teach English in Japan. How much could that have to do with architecture?

Then I received the email saying that I had been accepted onto the JET Programme. And the city I was to live in? None other than Kyoto - the number one architecturally historic city in Japan. Great. There went my chance to run away from architecture for a while. When I moved, I did my bit as an interested foreigner, taking arty photos of local temples and shrines. But they soon started to look the same to me, and I began to immerse my time in all sorts of other activities, like learning Japanese, and picking up snowboarding. I really embraced my sabbatical and focused on my new life, friends and work. If anybody mentioned architecture, I quickly changed the subject. In a way it felt like I had had a bad breakup with my first passion, and it hurt to think or talk about it. So I rebounded by throwing my efforts into illustration instead. Maybe this was what I was actually meant to do? Maybe I had been kidding myself all along. I mean, come on. It is really difficult to be a good architect, isn’t it?

So, how do you know the decisions you're making are the right ones?

This seems to be the eternal question. I guess you never really know until things turn out OK in the end. But most times the wait-and-see-what-happens approach is no good for me. I'm a planner and a strategiser. I need to know that what I'm spending my time on is (or will be) worth something. But I also keep reminding myself of something my mom often says:

Everything is in perfect order.

After 2 years, the honeymoon stage of my life in Japan was starting to wear off and I realised I don’t want to be a teacher or an illustrator forever. It took a while and several meaningful moments for me to finally realise that architecture was calling my heart once again. When I started to listen, I felt the seed of my passion sprouting and very soon it was all I could think about. I honestly think that the break I took to move to Japan was, in its own way, the best thing I could have done. My heart and soul feel refreshed and re-energised. As a snowboarding friend of mine says, "Don't follow the tracks". Don't freak out when you realise you need to carve your own path in life. The journey may be different to other people's, but it will be oh so much sweeter!