Architect Tanijiri Makoto is known for his off-the-wall designs that both innovate and inspire people to rethink architectural conventions. Besides designing houses and business facilities, he also takes on landscaping, product design and various other projects. At the core of his thinking is a desire to make something that has never been done before. Venture into a world where the unconventional gives rise to new designs!
A series of overlapping umbrellas.
This curious structure is actually a bus stop.
An astonishing design that brightens your commute.
In this park is what looks like a piece of public art.
It's a climbing structure for children.
It's also a bench for adults.
It transforms itself for each user.
Today’s topic is 'Defying Common Sense' - upending old boundaries in an age of diverse perspectives and values.
Our guest is unconventional architect Tanijiri Makoto.
Explore his latest work...
and the future of design.
Wow, so Shaula, today we are in Isumi in Chiba prefecture.
Yeah, we are.
I mean, what a beautiful day.
It's beautiful.
Just imagine it's 90-minute car drive from Tokyo.
- Yeah, it's so close by.
- And you're around in this wilderness and this nature, you know.
The air is great.
Yeah.
Well, listen now, you know, it's a beautiful area.
There's a special new project by Tanijiri-san that we're going to be checking out today.
I'm really excited.
It's nearby so.
Great to see you again.
It's a pleasure.
Hello!
Thanks for coming today.
It's great to be here.
Today we're exploring the idea of defying common sense.
And you seemed like the perfect person to explore it with!
That's why we're here today.
Everyone who's ever changed the world defied the common sense of their era.
So I'll take that as a compliment!
A positive.
Of course it is!
Tanijiri has designed around 200 structures along with his architectural partner Ai Yoshida.
Their unconventional ideas bring new values and perspectives to buildings and spaces.
This is the firm's office.
A focused team of architects pore over plans and drawings.
Beside them?
A large open kitchen.
Most of the office's floorspace is actually a restaurant.
It's open to all customers, not just staff.
The idea was for visitors to enjoy the atmosphere of an architect's office alongside their meal.
Tanijiri also challenged the status quo in 2020 with a new design for public restrooms.
There's only a single entrance.
Users of all genders enter and wash their hands in the same space.
It's another way to approach gender-free public bathrooms.
Today, we explore Tanijiri's latest work, completed in November 2022.
This two-story building overlooking the Isumi river is Tanijiri's holiday home.
Thank you.
Do mind your head!
What a lovely smell.
Really?
Oh wow!
Look at that!
Where are we again...?!
Right?
It's incredible.
That low entrance makes you really feel how it opens up here.
Yes, that was the goal.
Is that a river?
It is.
And a pool.
This doesn't feel like Japan.
I know what you mean!
But just look at that view.
It's gorgeous.
An amazing location.
Can you talk about some of the unconventional aspects of this design?
I'm already blown away by the view, but I'm sure there's plenty more going on.
Well, firstly, we didn't want any air-conditioning.
I'm guessing it must get pretty cold in the winter then, right?
It's just the wood stove in winter.
And it honestly works great to heat the space.
But hot in the summer - Japanese summers are so humid these days.
It must be hard.
Yes, so we open up the windows on the north side.
What huge windows!
Oh wow! They all open up?
That's amazing.
It really gets a breeze going.
It does!
That's one reason we chose to build in this riverside location.
There's always a cooling breeze near water.
Of course, warm air rises, so we are taking advantage of this by allowing air to escape out of the high windows.
The windows are basically left open all summer.
We live like we're outdoors.
This is lovely.
Why did you decide to avoid air-conditioning?
Once there's AC, people stop opening windows.
We open the windows when it's hot, and light a fire when it's cold.
If your holiday home feels the same as a hotel, or city house, why bother going at all?
You need that inconvenience to remind you where you are.
Tanijiri goes camping upwards of twenty times each year.
He wanted this house to feel rooted in the earth.
The house is owned by four people and rented out when none of the owners are using it.
The rent income is shared, turning the holiday house into a new source of revenue.
He started the build when his other projects came to a halt during the pandemic.
Everything stopped with the pandemic.
It did.
Delayed or canceled projects.
It was exactly twenty years since I'd gone independent.
Business had been steady but suddenly all our work was gone.
I was worried, but I realized that twenty years ago I'd had no home, no work, and no money.
And that was actually exciting.
Right.
So why not start again from here?
Since we have the skills to draw up plans, why not find a plot, plan a house, and build it ourselves?
Running the house ourselves seemed like a very straightforward, natural approach.
I love being in nature, so building in this setting felt like another way to achieve that.
That makes sense.
It was an opportunity to combine something I enjoy with my work.
It's a difficult world we live in, and I knew that if I didn't do it then, I'd never have the chance to start from scratch again.
The design of Tanijiri's main home also defies common sense.
It's a central Tokyo building with one basement and two above-ground floors.
The dim living room's only light source is a central courtyard with high walls.
The floor has different levels, presenting several literal stumbling blocks.
There's no air conditioning here, either.
The design goes against every expectation: no bright, sunny living room or comfortable, relaxing spaces.
Both the upper floor and basement are rented out, enabling the home to produce an income as well.
Tanijiri continues to push new boundaries as an architect.
I feel a connection between your Tokyo home and this house.
I grew up in Hawaii, so I'm used to very bright, sunny spaces.
So it definitely did feel dark to me.
Why did you pursue this kind of design?
I'm always asked for bright houses as part of my work.
I'm sure.
I wanted to build a dimmer home.
Interesting - why is that?
There's this very strong belief in society that light is good and dark is evil.
But having a meal in a dim restaurant creates a sense of privacy.
It encourages you to open up and talk about subjects you might not broach in broad daylight.
I think there's a real beauty and appeal to darkness.
Architectural proposals that are full of light always get accepted, but never dark ones.
I wanted people to see the physical result of designing for darkness.
So it seemed simplest to just build one for myself.
What did your family think of it?
I took my wife there during construction and the first thing she said was, 'It's so dark!' She wanted to add a window somewhere but it wasn't possible.
It's designed to get darker the further into the house you go.
You have to put lights on in the living room or it's pitch dark.
Where do you think this... love for dark spaces came from originally?
One thing I noticed was that when I go camping, all my senses sharpen in the dark.
Taste and smell - things I often don't notice become honed.
And yet, I find myself able to relax.
I really enjoy that sensation.
Looking at an open fire in a bright room is a very different experience from sipping a drink and watching the flames in a dim room.
Personally, I much prefer the latter.
Another aspect of the design that defies common sense is the choice to include those steps.
I suppose normally, you wouldn't want to include any potential obstacles like that in your proposal, right?
It's the same here - different levels.
I often say that you can remove obstacles at home, but as soon as you step out the door, they're everywhere.
That's very true.
Absolutely.
Of course it's important to make sure that anyone with a condition that requires even floors should be able to have them.
But I feel that minor inconveniences at home ensure we remember how to deal with them when we're outside.
And steps like this create a seating area without chairs.
That's true.
Someone seated at a dining table will have a different eyeline from someone standing in the kitchen, or seated on a couch.
But by adding different levels, you can put everyone on a similar plane.
It makes communication more comfortable, I think.
That's another dynamic to consider.
Tanijiri wants visitors to reconsider their preconceptions about homes.
It's part of a larger goal.
Everything about society is pushing us further and further toward greater convenience.
So we don't have to think about our everyday lives.
An inconvenient home requires us to be smart.
We have to actually think about what we're doing.
So yes, things are becoming more convenient.
But I feel like too much convenience is making us stupid.
So why not reexamine historical lifestyles, go back to more traditional approaches.
I think that matters.
Modern homes do come with a lot of conveniences.
And that's not a bad thing - I just think there should be more options.
Sure.
Tanijiri previously designed another inconvenient home.
The top floor has the bare necessities.
The first floor, meanwhile, has bare earth and no glass in the windows.
Every breeze stirs up dust.
It looks as if it's still under construction.
Tanijiri handed it over to the owners in this condition.
After ten years, what have the Matsunagas done with their family home?
This is the first floor now.
We added glass and a
toilet. Behind the yellow wall.
We painted the walls together.
We added a floor and made a hall.
This is the raised area.
It's the kids' play space An unfinished house... sounds fun!
Really interesting.
Like a warehouse, or a factory shell.
As if we'd stopped during the construction and handed it over.
But that was the original design?
It was.
Definitely unconventional!
Not common sense.
Why did you suggest that approach?
When I come up with a design, I always make sure to visit my clients' current home.
This family had made their own bookcases, their own dining table, cupboards, everything.
I saw that, and I felt that the regular approach of an architect simply handing them a completed house was, perhaps, the wrong one.
That definitely sounds like you!
I suggested the idea of stopping construction partway through and handing over a house that would still be incomplete.
And that they could mold and develop it to suit themselves.
They were delighted by the idea.
They liked it.
Much less expensive too.
Oh yes, it made a huge difference to the cost.
Nobody wants to pay more than they need to.
Naturally, not building a house costs less!
So I only built the bare necessities required for them to move in.
A space for windows, but no glass.
Exactly.
I gather that this is the first time you've seen how the house has developed, is that right?
First time.
They've done so much more than I expected.
The high ceilings on the ground floor were designed in a way that would allow them to add an extra floor in between.
And they've gone ahead and done that themselves.
When was this project completed?
At least ten years ago.
So they had no kids?
That's right.
So they've put their DIY skills to use, adapting their home to suit their growing family.
Usually people add extensions or renovate their houses as their family needs change.
But in this case, the house was originally just a shell, and they were able to naturally adjust over time.
Looking at how they've poured their own floor, how they've added their own windows, and painted the restroom all together as a family -
it really feels to me like this is truly their home in a way that most houses aren't.
I'm sure there are so many memories there.
Yes, a real family treasure.
Another of Tanijiri's unconventional designs was created for a tourist spot in his hometown of Hiroshima.
A contest for an observation deck overlooking the World Heritage-listed Miyajima Island.
Tanijiri's entry defied common sense.
I climbed the mountain and looked around and thought, there's already an observation deck here.
No need to build one.
Exactly.
But the contest required some kind of design.
Sure.
After a lot of thinking, I tried to create something that was, and wasn't, there.
There but also not?
A transparent observation deck.
Something that's invisible, but at the same time, tangible.
Transparent?
So it doesn't break up the view or the immediate environment.
Yes. I spent a lot of time thinking about what 'transparency' would mean for this design.
There has to be a physical presence for that word to mean anything.
Water is transparent, but nothing is not.
So I submitted a transparent observation deck that would both exist, and be invisible.
A see-through deck.
Tanijiri suggested sheets of metal mesh to provide an optical illusion that would blur the deck from a distance.
So what was the result?
Did you win?
I lost!
Oh no!
It was rejected?
It was.
Something else was built?
Another architect's design was chosen.
I could have submitted something more... normal, I guess.
But once I see a better alternative, that's the only thing I want to put forward.
I think creators have a duty to offer improvements, new ideas and values.
That's very true.
I think I'm just a contrarian, at heart.
Lighting designer Izumi Okayasu is a friend of Tanijiri's.
He also defies expectations.
The strong directional light of LEDs has long been considered unusable in traditional lighting, which prizes dimness and shadow.
But Okayasu disagreed.
A chapel in snowy Niigata prefecture.
Six hundred LEDs are tucked into a wooden frame and directed into the ceiling.
The result is a natural, gentle glow that fills the space.
Drops of water and light seem to stutter upwards in this exhibit.
It's made by having LEDs blink sixty times a second.
Visitors feel they can reach out and touch water.
A totally new vista makes for
an unforgettable memory.
I want to stir people's
emotions through LEDs.
I'm building the LED fan base!
This hospital was completed in May 2022.
The waiting room light has an unusual design, like a hole in the ceiling.
A thin layer of scrunched foil is lit by shifting LEDs, displaying an ever-changing sky.
A warm, comforting light that makes the hospital feel a little cozier.
Okayasu wanted to brighten patients' spirits.
It shouldn't bore you.
I wanted a space that felt
comfortable for hours.
So why not build a sky?
I'm thinking about
lighting and spaces now.
Okayasu has worked hard to change people's perceptions of LEDs.
His background as a former engineer plays a role.
This one, for example.
It flickers like a candle.
We talked about mass production
for outside tables and terraces.
But I got kind of bored
and left it....
As a former engineer, he strives to create things that don't yet exist.
How does Okayasu want to disrupt our ideas about lighting?
Eventually, we'll need lights
that move with us.
This kind of thing for reading.
Something at floor height for
nighttime bathroom visits.
And then like this for eating
in a living space.
Lights today are so wasteful.
We light spaces we don't need.
We light everything and
don't consider the individual.
I want to build something
that responds to each person.
A friend of yours, right?
We've known each other for years and we often work together.
He's Japan's top defier of common sense!
There aren't many lights in here, are there?
Initially I... actually thought we could go without any lights at all.
No lights!
Yes.
I mean, the sun is right there after all.
When it's dark, we can always use candles if necessary.
That seemed to me like a more pleasant way to live.
But, in the end, because we rent the house out, there was a requirement that we provide a certain level of brightness.
So there are regulations.
We did need to add some artificial light to meet them.
But you kept it to the bare minimum.
Maybe even just below that.
That's what you were aiming for!
Talking about the future of lighting, it sounded to me like Okayasu-san feels very frustrated by excess light.
Almost as if seeing the waste is a source of stress for him.
I suppose my personal perspective is that lights are lights.
Furniture is furniture.
A kitchen is a kitchen, and a chair is a chair.
All these things have functions, but we shouldn't be so rigid about them.
For example, why not design a home with no lights, but with a glowing table, instead?
Or windows that light up at night, perhaps acting as curtains to shut out the outside, while also brightening the room at the same time?
I like that idea.
You wouldn't need lights or curtains, but you'd have the same functionality.
And this could improve the living space.
I'm looking forward to future fusions like that.
Our topic today was defying common sense.
We're talking about ideas that seem totally off-the-wall right now, but might be taken for granted in just two or three years.
It's really about defying the status quo, isn't it?
Everything we think of as 'normal' today was once an absurd dream that nobody took seriously.
Very true.
So, things that seem nonsensical today could well become the standard of tomorrow.
And those same things could become history further down the line.
So I want to keep challenging our preconceptions.
I can't wait to see how that unfolds.
I hope we have the chance to learn more about your work.
It would be a pleasure.
- Thank you.
- Thank you!