architecture is often admired for its simplicity, attention to detail, contemplative atmosphere, and palpable

emphasis of material lightness and/or gravity (see my recent article “Learning from the 'Red' and 'White'
Schools of Japanese Architecture”). Though these characteristics are indeed common among recent projects
designed by Japanese architects, they fail to address a quality that is fundamental to understanding these
works.

This quality is embodied in the Japanese concept of ihyou (pronounced “ee-hyoh”), meaning something
unexpected or surprising. Ihyou is a unifying force in Japanese architecture today and a primary aspiration of
its designers. Regardless of project type, scale, or material character, they believe that a building must shift our
expectations—and by doing so, reveal the broader possibilities of experience within the physical environment.

Although there are many types of surprises, from subtle to abrupt, architectural ihyou is rarely shocking or
gratuitous. Rather, it awakens the mind of the user without causing alarm, sparking curiosity, intrigue, and
delight. The goal of ihyou is to make a conscious connection in order to impart an indelible memory. Three
primary strategies for achieving ihyou can be described by what the designers seek to convey: impossibility,
incongruity, and totality.

Impossibility
Practitioners often invoke Tadao Ando, Hon. FAIA’s name in relation to the pursuit of material perfection,
particularly in reinforced concrete construction. They also appreciate his work’s compelling manipulation of
light and shadow, processional sequences, and interlocking platonic volumes. His projects should also be
recognized for their purposeful intimations of defying gravity.
 Blaine Brownell Gravity-defying walls: Chichu Art
Museum by Tadao Ando, Naoshima, Japan, 2004.

For example, an exterior courtyard at Ando’s Chichu Art Museum, in Naoshima, Japan, is surrounded by a
concrete enclosure that appears to hover above a horizontal void, lacking any means of vertical load transfer.
The ceiling of an underground space in his Ando Museum, also in Naoshima, consists of a backlit concrete
disc with no sign of attachment. His renowned Church of the Light, in Ibaraki, Japan, is memorable not only
for its crucifix-shaped aperture but also for its lack of visible supports for the concrete planes that frame the
wall’s upper quadrants.
Blaine Brownell Floating ceiling: A concrete disc hovers below a skylight at the Ando Museum by Tadao
Ando, Naoshima, Japan, 2013.

The work of Kengo Kuma, Hon. FAIA, also appears to challenge the laws of physics. His Lotus House, in
eastern Japan, is sheathed in a checkerboard curtain of travertine. The clever use of inconspicuous steel
supports makes the stone seem to float in midair. Kuma’s Chokkura Plaza, in Tochigi, Japan, employs
chevron-shaped Oya stone blocks—also with hidden steel reinforcing—in an open arrangement that appears to
defy the vertical load-bearing logic of the masonry wall.
Incongruity
Along with “impossible” details, Japanese contemporary architecture regularly undermines conventional
expectations at a macro level. One method concerns the development of structural expressions that are out of
keeping with established practices. Toyo Ito, Hon. FAIA’s Mikimoto Ginza 2 building, in Tokyo, exhibits a
hybrid reinforced-concrete-and-steel-plate enclosure that lacks visible control joints. A collection of apertures
placed at seemingly random intervals—and at building corners—disguises what is effectively an internal
diagrid structure. The result is a curious absence of vertical continuity, distinct floor levels, and construction
joints—three tectonic indicators common to buildings.

Blaine Brownell Conspicuous absence: a lack of visible vertical load continuity, floor lines, and construction
joints. Mikimoto Ginza 2 by Toyo Ito, Tokyo, 2005.
Blaine Brownell Uniting disparate programs: Grace Farms by SANAA, New Canaan, Conn., 2015.

Another approach is to seek unexpected relationships between a building’s programmed use and its anticipated
physical arrangement. For example, SANAA’s Grace Farms, the recent recipient of the 2014/2015 Mies
Crown Hall Americas Prize (MCHAP), arranges a variety of modestly sized programs within an undulating
site. Rather than house them in separate buildings at different elevations, the architects united the functions
within a singular structure that traverses the site topography.
In contrast, Ryue Nishizawa’s Moriyama House, in Tokyo, deconstructs the typical private residence, treating
individual rooms as separate structures that are deployed across the site.

Blaine Brownell Forest of columns: Kanagawa Institute of Technology Workshop by Junya Ishigami,
Kanagawa, Japan, 2008.

Totality
Many Japanese architects seek to make an indelible impression by way of an all-encompassing experience.
This totalizing treats buildings more like landscapes: Foreground is merged with background, and the enclosed
volume’s delimitations are unclear. For example, SANAA’s Rolex Learning Center, in Lausanne, Switzerland,
combines multiple functions within a single outsized floor plate that rises and falls like rolling terrain. Junya
Ishigami’s Kanagawa Institute of Technology Workshop is similarly treated as a single volume, supported by a
forest of thin, irregularly spaced columns. Tokujin Yoshioka’s Lexus L-Finesse installation consists of
thousands of suspended transparent fibers, immersing visitors in a cloud.

Blaine Brownell A web of triangulated mesh at

Totalization is typically accomplished with a focus on a single material system. A severely reduced palette
enables architects to maximize the sensory impact of the experience. SANAA’s Glass Pavilion at the Toledo
Art Museum appropriately prioritizes the use of floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Collectively, the layers of curved
glass manipulate light in unpredictable ways. Kuma’s Sunny Hills store, in Tokyo, is enveloped in a deep
lattice of thin timber slats that mimic a bamboo basket. Sou Fujimoto has also emphasized singular material
strategies in his 2013 Serpentine Gallery Pavilion, in London, with its immersive steel microstructure, and his
2016 Naoshima Pavilion, composed of triangulated steel mesh.
Blaine Brownell Enveloped in glass. Glass Pavilion by SANAA, Toledo Art Museum, Toledo, Ohio, 2006.

A Common Aim
These three strategies—impossibility, incongruity, and totality—demonstrate the near-universal pursuit of
ihyou among contemporary Japanese architects. Although the approaches can vary widely, evoking the
unexpected is a common theme. Upon looking closely at these works, you may begin seeing ihyou everywhere.
Certainly, architects worldwide similarly seek to surprise and delight. However, one reason Japanese architects
have recently drawn so much admiration concerns their unparalleled perseverance in realizing their conceptual
visions.
Accomplishing ihyou requires both fearlessness and rigor: a confidence to make risky proposals combined
with a meticulousness to ensure their successful execution. By seeking to make the uncommon common,
Japanese architects continually help us experience the world anew.

Blaine Brownell, AIA, is a regularly featured columnist whose stories appear on this website each week. His
views and conclusions are not necessarily those of ARCHITECT magazine nor of the American Institute of
Architects.

About the Author

Blaine Brownell
Blaine Brownell, AIA, is an architect and materials researcher. The author of the three Transmaterial books
(2006, 2008, 2010), he is the director of graduate studies in the school of architecture at the University of
Minnesota.