Vertical wooden lattices design time—why they are beautiful and why they are Japanese

Why are vertical wooden lattices beautiful, and why are they Japanese?

When walking through the alleys of Kyoto, there are moments when your feet stop.

Fine shadows fall in an orderly fashion onto the cobblestones.
They are vertical wooden lattices.

They are not flashy.
Yet, they have the power to tighten the atmosphere.

I have long been strongly drawn to these vertical lattices.

Whether in residential, public, or commercial architecture,
I find myself placing vertical lattices somewhere in my designs.

However, at one point, a question suddenly arose.

"Why is this beautiful?"

And another.

"Why does this feel Japanese?"

Beauty lies not in sensation, but in dimensions

Even with similar lattices,
some are well-proportioned, while others feel unsettling.

Where does the difference lie?

Change the width.
Change the pitch.
Change the depth.

The impression changes with just one millimeter.

If too thin, they look weak.
If too thick, they become sluggish.
If the spacing is too wide, they look stretched; if too narrow, they become claustrophobic.

A vertical lattice is a collection of "lines."
And lines are honest.

Beauty is not a coincidence,
but is born from the balance of dimensions.

Even more important is the depth.

When a lattice has depth, light becomes a line rather than a surface.
Shadows fall, and time becomes visible.

Vertical lattices are also devices for controlling light.

So, why are they Japanese?

Vertical wooden lattices themselves are not unique to Japan.
Yet, we still feel a sense of Japanese identity in them.

I believe there are three reasons.

First, their consistency with wooden post-and-beam construction.

Japanese architecture is a structure of 'lines' where columns stand and beams are laid.
Vertical lattices are an extension of that.
Structure and design do not contradict each other.

Second, the culture of intermediate spaces.

Japanese homes do not clearly separate the outside from the inside.
Engawa, shoji screens, and bamboo blinds.

Vertical lattices also
soften the gaze, allow the wind to pass through, and receive light.

A boundary that does not close completely.
That ambiguity overlaps with the Japanese sensibility.

Third, the aesthetic of shadows.

A culture that appreciates reflected light and shadows
rather than direct light.

Vertical lattices convert light into lines.
Time dwells within that.

That is why they look Japanese.

It is not a style, but
the result of the overlapping rationalities of climate, structure, and daily life.

The day those drawings arrived

One night, I was struck by a wooden lattice I saw in an architectural magazine.

It was strangely orderly.
The shadows were quiet.

I took the plunge and contacted the design and construction firm.

A few days later, the office fax machine rang.

Paper was spat out along with the mechanical sound, and
black lines began to appear.

It was the detailed drawing of that very lattice.

Width, pitch, depth, and fixing method.
Everything was logically organized.

I stood there looking at the drawings.

"I see."

There was a reason for its beauty.

I still remember the weight of that paper even now.

Erecting lines at a construction site in Korea

I put that philosophy into practice at a construction site in Korea.

A vertical lattice to be attached to an exterior wall.
This time, I designed it from the start with the assumption of 'replacement after 10 years'.

I wrote more into the construction drawings than usual.

The position of the hardware.
The length of the screws.
A cross-section where water does not collect.
A structure that can be removed without damaging the exterior wall.

It looks perfect on the drawings.
But whether it works on-site is another matter.

The first piece is fixed.
The second piece goes in.

The slightest deviation in pitch affects the whole.

There was a quiet tension on the site.

The moment the last piece was set,
the evening light shone through.

The vertical lines cast shadows all at once.

It is aligned.

It wasn't so much beautiful as it was,
a sense of being orderly.

It is not just the form.
The dimensions, the structure, and the premise of time as well.

I felt as if the lines from that faxed drawing
were rising up right before my eyes.

Vertical lattices design time

The wood will change color from here on.
It may also warp.

But that is fine.

It was designed to be replaceable.
It was envisioned with time included.

The reason vertical lattices are beautiful
is not simply because they are orderly.

It is because they receive light,
receive time,
and are prepared to continue standing.

Watching the evening shadows,
I stood there for a while.