The Ephemeral House

Why some of Japan’s most intriguing and beautifully designed homes aren’t built to last.

- Lucy Alexander

THE CHERRY BLOSSOM famously represents the fleeting nature of human life, a beauty meant to be admired, enjoyed and let go. But in Japan, the brief, bittersweet cycle of death and rebirth also applies – surprisingly – to houses. This unusual national ideology ends up nurturing bold new designs and a growing slate of award-winning architects, as evidenced by the annual Pritzker Architecture Prize. Japan ties the US with more winners than any other country: eight in total, from Kenzo Tange in 1987 to Arata Isozaki in 2019.

The Western concept of a residence as a stable and secure long-term investment – more tree than flower – that will gradually increase in value over time directly opposes the Japanese view, which sees a house as a temporary structure that expires with its owner. A Japanese building is a short-lived consumer product, not so different from a car or an iPhone, that undergoes a period of fixed-term depreciation, set by the government at 22 years, after which it’s considered fit for the scrap heap. If an Englishman’s – or Westerner’s – home is his castle, a Japanese one is a worthless piece of single-use plastic.

The happy side effect of this throwaway ethos is that Japan has become a sandbox for architectural experimentation, a sort of deregulated enterprise zone that has incubated a culture in which some of the world’s most innovative and pioneering architects have thrived.