The emptiness of space: kukan
Space in Japan is first and foremost thought of as “empty space”, as a potential in which human activities can develop.
The combination between space and emptiness is a very old philosophical system deeply rooted in the Asian way of thinking. Indeed, space, kukan in Japanese, is composed of ku, the area between heaven and earth, the emptiness, and kan, meaning interval. Kukan, and the connotation of emptiness that comes with it, is therefore inherent to the Japanese perception of space. This view is tightly knit with Asia, in fact it’s been there for most of its development:
“Already in the 6th century BC, emptiness was one of the most important prerequisites and characteristics of everyday life for Lao Tse, the Chinese philosopher and founder of Taoism.” Wolfgang Fehrer, The Japanese Teahouse
Indeed, in the Japanese worldview, space is most of all a potential, which will only make that space into a room. Without its emptiness, which has the potential to be filled by life, space is nothing.
“Thirty spokes unite to form a hub: The adequacy of their nothing is the carriage’s usefulness; one needs the clay with regard to the pot; the adequacy of their nothing is the pot’s usefulness; one lifts out door and window with regard to the house: the adequacy of their nothing is the house’s usefulness. So: the purpose of being is advantage, the purpose of nothing is usefulness.” Lao Tse, Tao Te King (The Book of the Right Path and Right Conscience)
In our structure, this notion is picked up in the emptiness of the space in the natural knot, inhabited by our anchor. Without its usefulness as a trou de boulin, our ROOM would not be. The natural knot is the physical expression of kukan resulting in our ROOM.
Ma
“The empty space is more important than the solid, because the reality of a space is not to be found in its enclosing surfaces, not in the floor, roof or walls, but only in its emptiness itself. And yet none of these aspects exist by themselves, independently of the others: building structure and empty space are mutually dependent.” Wolfgang Fehrer, The Japanese Teahouse
This concept is known as ma, another expression of the kan in kukan, in the philosophy of Buddhism, on which it had great influence. Since Buddhism became so popular in the 6th century, it was widely accepted in domestic thinking as well, influencing art and the general appreciation and worldview.
From an aesthetic point of view, ma corresponds to the sensibility for the beauty of empty spaces and surfaces (yohaku no bi), which is of great importance in various Japanese art genres. Zen masters refer to it as “painting by not painting”, meaning the balance of form and emptiness that characterizes many masterpieces of Japanese art. This is also a major concept in Japanese calligraphy, as well as traditional dance.
In architecture, this view finds its culmination in the teahouse, a “mode of symbolic building wherein nothing was symbolised, or, more precisely, where void, emptiness or no-thingness (mu) was symbolised.” (Botond Bognar, quoted from Robin Noel Walker, Shoko-ken, A Late Medieval daime sukiya Style Japanese Tea-House) ; quite literally, the teahouse becomes physical and architectural representation of the Buddhist heart sutra “emptiness is form, form is emptiness”. (The literal translation of the core sentence of the heart sutra is: “The appearing is just the emptiness, the emptiness is just the appearing, appearance is [as] appearance.”).
The temporality of space
Buddha teaches that things are not only empty, but also ephemeral, and that suffering comes from focusing on things that are not persistent. Change is the only eternal component. This worldview is the basis for another main Japanese spatial perceptive concept, that space, just like any other component of the universe, is not constant. Indeed, the temporal factor is a major part of the whole concept of space. This explains why, in the Japanese perception of it, space needs to be inhabited to come to life, and shows the importance of the temporal factor of use: “space is not a fixed entity, but a continuum subject to dynamic changes and permanent modifications. This aspect is also contained in the word kukan: the character kan or ma means interval, both spatially and temporally. In Japan, space and time have never been understood as independent facts, but have always flowed together in a concept that seeks to overcome this duality. Without exception, every spatial experience is bound to time, just as every experience in time is a spatially structured process.” (Günter Nitschke, From Shinto to Ando, “Ma – Place, Space, Void”). This also explains why Japanese homes are of flexible use usually, illustrating the uniqueness of the teahouse. However, even the teahouse will be completely empty if not used, and no utensil or decoration remains there outside of human presence.
If one follows this concept, this would mean that our ROOM is not actually one before a use. Following Japanese worldview, no precise use need to be dictated either.
This element of Buddhism was probably inspired or taken over by the already present notions of religious beliefs. In early Shintoism, when temples were yet unknown, sacred places, called yorishiro, were marked by four corner pillars and a simple rope. Indeed, it was believed that gods would inhabit these empty spaces, making it more meaningful or vital than any other physically filled one.
The concept is particularly vivid in the Nô theatre, the oldest form of traditional theatre in Japan, founded in the 14th century. It derived from the religious dances of the shrine maidens and monks, and the more popular Kabuki theatre derives from it, along with the imperial palace dances and Bunraku (puppets) theatre, which both influenced and was influenced by Kabuki.
Dance is a very complex theme in Japan: there are two Japanese words designating it, mai and odori. Mineko Iwasaki of the Iwasaki okiya in Gion Kobu, arguably the most famous geisha of the 20th century and one of the greatest in history, explains it best in her autobiography:
“Mai is considered sanctified movement, and is derived from the sacred dances of Shrine maidens that have been performed since ancient times as offerings to the gods. It can only be performed by people who are specifically trained and authorised to do so. Odori, on the other hand, is dance that celebrates the vicissitudes of human life: that commemorates joyous occasions and solemnises sad ones. It is the kind of dance commonly seen during Japanese festivals, and can be performed by anyone. There are only three forms of dance that are termed mai: mikomai, dances of the Shinto Shrine maidens, bugaku, dances of the Imperial Court, and Nô mai, dances of the Nô drama. Kyoto-style dance is mai, not odori. The Inoue School is specifically associated with Nô mai and is stylistically similar.” Mineko Iwasaki, Geisha of Gion
The geisha districts in Kyoto are all home to living treasures of traditional dance, and every district prides itself in the culture of a different school. The Gion Kobu district of Kyoto, the most famous and largest geisha district in Japan, cultivates the Inoue School of dance for example, which is derived from Nô. The Inoue School was founded around 1800 by Sato Inoue, who was a lady in waiting at the Imperial Court and also taught the dances used in ceremonies at court. The Inoue School is only taught in Gion Kobu, unlike all the other dance schools taught in Kyoto’s hanamachi (geisha districts, literally “flower towns”), which are taught nation-wide. This is why, and because Kabuki is relatively new, dating only back to the 17th century, the Gion geimaiko actually have a reputation of being snobbish about it, feeling superior to other geisha affiliated to a different school of dance, like the geisha of Ponto-chô or Kamishichiken, also notable geisha districts in Kyoto, who are affiliated to the Onoue and Hanayagi Schools of Dance respectively. It comes to no surprise knowing Japanese culture, that even though the popular Kabuki-inspired dance schools use a much wider set of moves, display a broad and dramatic variety of emotions and are visibly more dynamic than the aristocratic Nô-inspired Inoue School of Dance, using lavish costumes and scenery, the Inoue School with its very static and minimalistic movements, breaking down complex emotions and stories into small, seemingly simple and strong and decisive, yet graceful movements, is the most famous and most venerated Dance School out of the five in Kyoto (each affiliated to its hanamachi). One can notice the influence of ma and Buddhist beliefs in the Japanese culture in general.
In Nô, ma uses the term senuhi-ma to describe the time between the individual actions of the actor. It is an interval that is more than just a “pause” in which one does not act, but the moment of greatest concentration. “It is the moment when nothing is portrayed and yet everything happens.” (Masao Yanagi).
In our structure, we picked up the notion of ma in the anchoring structure of the natural knot. Indeed, it is an empty structure, but that emptiness only made the trou de boulin and thus our whole structure possible. Without this emptiness, our ROOM would not be.
It is worth noting that when comparing the characters kan and ma, it is because Japan adopted the Chinese script since about the 5th century. However, since the language structures of Chinese and Japanese differ greatly, all the characters have a purely Japanese reading, in addition to the Sino-Japanese meaning.
The literal translation of ma truly encompasses the spatial and temporal aspect: in the Iwanami Dictionary of old sayings (by Botond Bognar, Contemporary Japanese Architecture, 1985), ma is defined as (1) “the natural distance between two or more things existing in continuity” and (2) “the natural pause or interval between two or more phenomena occurring continuously”.
Beyond its expression in architectural design, ma is present in the arts of calligraphy, painting and the tea ceremony of course as well. Indeed, ”ma forms a space of imagination that is not filled with objective content, but must first be brought to life by one’s own mind.” (Wolfgang Fehrer, The Japanese Teahouse).
The term used to designate architectural design was madori, which means literally “to grasp the space”, making the importance of the temporal use of space vivid once again. Not only the spatial connections were structured, but all temporary processes such as the replacing of furniture according to specific use or the removal of individual sliding doors to expand the space were also made possible. Today however, Japanese has taken over the word “design” from the English language.
“The tea-room is made for the tea-master, not the tea-master for the tea-room. It is intended for posterity and is therefore ephemeral.” Kakuzo Okakura, The Book of Tea
This is based on the Shinto belief that every dwelling should be evacuated upon the death of its main resident.
In our case, we picked this notion up in the temporality of our structure: it needs to be disassembled and reassembled in order to stay alive, since it otherwise restricts the tree growth, and thus ceases to live, considering the fundamental role of the site in our ROOM.