Rethinking Space: What an Architecture Hackathon in Tokyo Taught Me
I have always been interested in architecture — creating immersive, innovative spaces. When I was in Tokyo, not only did I get to soak up the beauty of the unique structures around me, but I did an architecture hackathon at the university! This article sums up my main learnings and takeaways.
Japanese architecture differs from the West in quite a few ways. Japanese beauty is rooted in the subtle interplay of light and shadow, emphasizing dimness, texture, and the patina of age rather than the bright, sterile illumination favoured in the West. Patina is the thin film that forms on surfaces like bronze and other metals due to oxidation over time. In the West, metals are cleaned frequently to remove and replace the original patina. However, in Japan, age is beautiful and patina is an indicator of that. Aged materials, like weathered wood and tarnished metal, reveal the passage of time. It is interesting to reflect, then, on how Japanese architecture reflects in their values (and same with the West).
A large value of Japanese architecture is experience over functionality. In the West, many structures are built solely to serve a specific function. However, in Japan it is believed that architecture should transcend physical structure to become an emotional and sensory experience. Texture, sound, and even temperature shape how a space feels. Designs should allow for reflection and stillness. Architecture should be experienced holistically through touch, sound, and movement. Norberg-Schulz introduced the concept of genius loci, or “spirit of place,” arguing that architecture should enhance and reveal the unique character of a location. Buildings should respond to their surroundings — their climate, landscape, and history — rather than being context-free and universal objects. They are part of a broader system of signs that communicate meaning, identity, and belonging. It’s all about transforming a space into a place; a space is abstract and open, whereas a place is imbued with memories, experiences, and meaning. Darkness is often leveraged, creating depth and mystery in traditional Japanese architecture. For example, lacquerware is quite popular in Japan —I learned about how in Japan, as early as 500 BCE, lacquer began being taken from tree sap and coated onto materials for a shiny, hard surface. There is a reflective darkness to lacquerware often employed in Japanese architecture.
In February, I had reached out to an alumni of a research grant organization I am a part of called the Masason Foundation. His name is Takatoshi Yoshida and he builds intelligent living environments, having done research at MIT and now Keio University. He introduced me to an architecture workshop he was organizing at the CAADRIA conference, and placed me as a participant. I showed up on the first day to a giant lecture room at the University of Tokyo and quickly realized I was surrounded by many masters and PhD students studying architecture or related subjects. I also realized this was not a typical workshop but more of a hackathon, where we worked in small teams building our own exhibitions all day every day over four days. I was led to a design lab in a group of nine people–three instructors who were leading the workshop, and six participants including myself. We got to listen to a few keynotes from the instructors on the topic of reduced perceptual cues, essentially reducing the number of visual cues in an atmosphere and subtly engaging every sense through architecture–tactile, olfactory, etc.
My group had to recreate in a small space a very niche experience. One of my teammates had worked at a paper mill and we decided to recreate this, playing with light on large sheets of paper hanging from a circular structure we built to attach to a ceiling. We wanted to create a water-like effect on the ground, and because we were avoiding mechanical means, we built little fans into our base of a reflective sheet.
We narrowed in on light and sound, using softwares like PureData and Arduino to program various sequences. Sound is something I had never considered too deeply in architecture, but something like frequency modulations can certainly change how one interacts with a space.
One of my favourite parts about this week was the incredible group of people I was working with, as well as the instructors. A highlight was eating bento boxes for dinner together around a table on a thirteen-hour day. Overall, I can say I developed a far deeper appreciation for Japanese architecture and I am very grateful for the experience!
