We’ve all heard that travel broadens the mind. But beneath this cliché lies a deep truth. Things stand out because they’re different, so we notice every detail, from street signs to mailboxes to two you pay at a restaurant. We learn a lot when we travel, not because we are any smarter on the road but because we pay such close attention. On a trip, we become our own version of Sherlock Holmes, intensely observing the environment around us. We are continuously trying to figure out a world that is foreign and new.
Too often, we go through our day-to-day life on cruise control, oblivious to huge swaths of our surroundings. To notice friction points – and therefore opportunities to do things better – it helps to see the world with fresh eyes. When you meet creative people with lots of ideas constantly bubbling to the surface, you often come away feeling that they are operating on a different frequency. And they are, most of the time. They have all their receptors on — and frequently turned up to eleven. But the fact is, we are all capable of this mode. Try to engage a beginner’s mind. For kids, everything is novel, so they ask lots of questions, and look at the world wide-eyed, soaking it all in. Everywhere they turn, they tend to think, Isn’t that interesting? rather than, I already know that.
By adopting the eyes of a traveler and a beginner’s mindset, you will notice a lot of details that you might normally have overlook. You put aside assumptions and are fully immersed in the world around you. In this receptive mode, you’re ready to start actively searching out inspiration.
It’s quite difficult, to fight back against the seeming wisdom of axiomatic “truths,” when the language itself has been weaponized through the power of pattern. Through rhythm, rhyme, alliteration, and consonance.
The last time I was in England was at the invitation of Nomensa, to give a talk at a conference wherein I encouraged the audience to discard an axiom that I feel has done users of the English language more harm than good through endless and glib repetitions.
Like “Curiosity Killed The Cat,” “You Are Not Your User” sounds so good that we keep on saying it, without appreciating what we’re reifying through repetition. The pleasure of repetition, the pleasure of pattern matching, the pleasingness of Kuh Kuh Kuh consonants on the one hand, and of the round vowelly Yuh Yuh Yuh on the other make these things we say seem true because they sound and feel so good to say.
Her poems, [Kay Ryan] says, don't begin with a simple image or sound, but instead start "the way an oyster does, with an aggravation." An old saw may nudge her repeatedly, such as "It's always darkest before the dawn" or "Why did the chicken cross the road?"
"I think, 'What about those chickens?' " she says, "and I start an investigation of what that means. Poets rehabilitate clichés."
When a space resonates with our humanity, when it feels really pleasant or splendid and beautiful—when you place yourself in such an environment, I've always believed that people will be drawn in. So I guess you could say it's this sense that I try to reflect in the plans; I believe that this will lead in the right direction, to an honest lifestyle.
Mrs. Shimada is very cheerful, and Mr. Shimada is very intelligent; he is able to perceive things objectively, and discern what is precious. I get the sense they live critically, evaluating what is important. Keeping these characteristics in mind, I think about what kind of plan should be provided, in what proportions, and in what kind of house—to best suit these people. I'm constantly reminded of their faces as I prepare the plans. I'm always thinking about human happiness. If it doesn't make you happy, I don't think it's worth building.
I've been doing this for decades, so I've found tools that can't get any better. Tools by a good blacksmith cut well for the entire day, as well as the next; occasionally, even on the third day. I'll think, maybe I should sharpen soon, even though it's still cutting okay.
So that's what it's like — it's all about how good your tools are.
What of machines and prefabrication? How do they compare?
Well, the machine has its limits. We, using handcrafted methods, do things that machines cannot do. Of course, it's not fast like a machine. And in complicated areas like here, things wouldn't go the same using a machine as it would by hand.
We use numerous variations of all these connecting and splicing joints. Using a machine, [the wood joints] can all be made uniform, but really, we need to consider whether that's a good thing. It's better to make each mechanism and joint by considering what's suitable for each unique condition.
I suspect that these tools and these shapes each have their own era. And, well—recently, mass production has made fabrication more practical by using machines, and producing joints that are even easier and faster. Currently, [composite joints] are the most practical—economically as well. That's probably how it became so simple.
The precision [of a prefabricated joint] is by no means bad; a prefabricated joint is more precise than one made by hand with poor skills. Of course, with craftsmen, some are good; others, not so good. It's fine if only people with excellent skills make these joints and build houses; but occasionally, you'll get someone who doesn't. In this case, there's a possibility that prefabrication will provide a more uniform, better outcome.
With prefabrication, they don't really have as much variety in types of joints. Most splicing joints are kama-tsugi, and most connecting joints are ari of a dovetail type; it's even all the same dovetail. In comparison, we use roughly ten times that in variety—perhaps more than ten times.
You have something that is fast, easy, and cheap...
Tōru Abo: Yes, the question is which is better in comparison. I mean, there's no point having a joint made without precision. If you can't chisel with a certain degree of accuracy, there's no point cutting by hand. We often say, "Work accurately and precisely." It's labor-intensive and costs some money, but it's overwhelmingly stronger. The structure becomes more solid.
The kanawa-tsugi allows for easy replacements, without having to raise the building a great deal. However, these days buildings are demolished in less than 30 or so years, so we live in an era where such measures aren't necessary. Because we're living in an era where you demolish the house before things are replaced, we don't have to do this. But in doing so, the two wood members fit together smoothly; the fit becomes incredibly good. This splicing joint, it's surprisingly rigid once assembled; so, even in an era where we have foundations like these, we still use the kanawa-tsugi.
If you consider the inheritance of skills, we can keep this heritage by having young people do the work properly, as they did in the past. If you don't do this, or you become too practical, you'd only make simple things. It's very low tech, this inheritance of skills—using carpentry tools to do manual work. We deliberately put effort into these things, completing work properly in unseen areas.
Architecture equals structure. Design is also important, but structure is the basis of architecture.
By taking the good aspects of both traditional and conventional construction methods, we assemble it securely...So the reason we lay out the marking lines, and carve by hand, is to utilize the good aspects of wood framing from the past when building contemporary wood-framed structures.