Revitalizing Old Homes - Traditional Cityscapes

Japan has a rich natural landscape.

People have long lived in traditional homes made of lumber and thatch.

But as Japan becomes increasingly urbanized, many homes are being left empty.

Several new projects are underway to use these empty homes to foster communities and preserve local landscapes.

Our first stop is Onomichi, in Japan's west.

It's a harbor town close to the city of Hiroshima.

Ozu Yasujiro's "Tokyo Story" and many other movies and novels took place in this hilly setting.

Presenter Andy is here to look into a project that's revitalizing old homes.

What a beautiful place this is.

The uptown district of Onomichi has narrow, winding paths and a host of traditional homes.

What a great atmosphere.

No traffic.

Only pedestrians up here.

Though it's quite a climb!

Oh, hello!

Hello, welcome!

I'm dripping with sweat, sorry!

It's a long way up!

Good to see you again.

Likewise!

Thanks for inviting us.

It's a pleasure to have you.

Today's guest is architect Nagasaka Jo.

He has continuously challenged the architectural world with cutting-edge renovation projects.

His upcycling designs have brought a unique sensibility to many pre-existing items.

In 2021, Nagasaka bought and renovated this 110-year-old traditional home.

It's a two-story wooden structure, playfully named "LLOVE HOUSE", with two 'L's.

Oh wow, just look at that view!

Incredible, right?

It feels so open.

It's gorgeous!

The water runs from east to west in a straight line.

It's an extraordinary view, even for this neighborhood.

I'm sure!

I love the sounds.

Yes.

It's not just the view - I hear the ferries puttering along, and metal sounds from the ship-building firm.

I'm from the Tokyo region, so the whole Seto Inland Sea area was new to me.

Yet it felt so familiar when I arrived.

Nostalgic.

Yeah.

A landscape that's familiar through film and novels.

Nagasaka fell in love with this particular corner of it.

After buying the house, he decided to bring it back to life.

The house was built in the "Saen" style, unique to Onomichi.

It was a villa where local merchants would host guests to enjoy tea and the view.

Nagasaka plans to use the home to accommodate international creators while they make and exhibit their artwork.

He wants it to become a community space for cultural interaction.

He focused on repairing damage and keeping new designs to a minimum to ensure the renovation stayed in keeping with the landscape.

Are the earthen walls here original to the house?

So I actually hold a kind of workshop for students and young people.

The walls in here were pretty dirty, of course having been here so long.

So we scraped away the surface to reveal this rough texture.

Then we painted on a clear seal to harden it.

It was a group effort.

I see.

That's red cedar - a north American tree.

The lumber store provided us with a whole lot of it and a woodworking group from Musashino Art University came and put it all together.

The construction.

All of the upstairs framework.

So everything from the materials to the work has been a collaboration.

Very much so.

When I asked for quotes from regular firms, they were all very wary and gave me crazy estimates.

Right.

I suppose all the materials have to be brought up by hand, don't they.

That's right.

The hilly neighborhood can only be accessed on foot, and using heavy machinery would see costs balloon.

So Nagasaka and his collaborators took the painful step of carrying machinery, materials, and waste on foot.

Nagasaka himself took the lead on the renovations, with friends, colleagues, and crowd-funders all coming together to support him.

It's these very obstacles that have left the Onomichi landscape largely untouched by development.

Nagasaka wants to share this extraordinary remnant of Japan's history with global creators.

I want it to be place for international exchange.

I want artists and designers to come here, to see the views, and to incorporate them into their work.

The environment of the house and the town.

Exactly.

I think it's a new perspective.

When people hear the name Hiroshima, it carries a weight that other regions don't.

Sure.

This area still has buildings that were built long before the war.

And everyone wants to preserve them.

I'm not just talking about local residents - I'm talking about people from around the world.

Everyone is coming together.

I think it's the history of Hiroshima that makes this rallying cry so powerful.

A beautiful landscape that bewitched Nagasaka.

How does he hope to preserve it for the future?

It's rare for a pre-war building like that to survive in Japan, isn't it?

How old is it, exactly?

110 years.

110.

Yes.

It's so beautiful.

But how did you come across it?

It doesn't sound like you went looking for a place.

So what was it that drew you to that location?

In May 2019, before the pandemic, I heard about a new hotel in Onomichi.

In the town.

Yes, and I went to stay there.

But I arrived much earlier than I'd anticipated, so I just started walking around the town.

There were no cars anywhere.

Just a few very smug looking cats.

That sounds incredible.

The whole thing just felt unreal.

Almost like a dream.

Eventually, I went to check in.

It was evening by then, and that building was visible from the hotel window.

The sun had just gone down, so I could see dim lights through the glass.

Gazing out at this dusky landscape from my window, I could feel scenes from the movie "Tokyo Story" flash through my mind.

So I actually asked the staff what kind of place it was.

They told me it belonged to an elderly man who only used it on the weekends.

He would turn on the lights for the hotel guests.

I couldn't help asking...

I'm not normally the kind of person who asks things like this, but I asked, "Do you think he would sell?"

You asked.

And things just snowballed from there!

It sounds like fate.

I had no connection to the area.

What are your future plans?

Going forward, the house will need people on-site to support.

I actually reached out to some former staff to see if there was anyone looking to change up their lifestyle and possibly move there.

You were looking for someone to move there?

Yes, and Matsui and Nakata spoke up.

Former colleagues.

They moved down with their family.

The whole family?

Yes, they really uprooted their lives, in a way.

They're a married couple, and they work as an architect and manager.

Having them there is really valuable.

It means that if another empty home were ever to come up in the area, they could be there on the ground, in contact with the physical space.

I see.

There are still so many other problems we need to tackle.

How to handle waste after a build, for example.

But by sharing this expertise, we can ensure that the local landscape remains untouched.

We're all talking over how to make that happen.

And how to finance it.

That too.

There are a lot of moving parts.

Lots of people dream of this kind of work, but not many actually take the next, practical step.

By publicizing your approach and methods, perhaps more people will take up the work.

I think some people are ready to tackle a big project, at least once.

Definitely.

As a group, we can really change things.

Yes, you don't want that home to become a lone star.

I'm guessing that the long-term idea is to inspire people to revitalize the whole town.

I don't think it's enough to simply preserve one plot of land, or to showcase the beauty of a single home.

Everything surrounding that home - the entirety of the landscape needs to be considered.

That's one reason why I'm thinking of inviting international creators to visit.

That's not something that really happened much before.

I think it could provide inspiration for a lot of people to take a new approach.

If we have creative people staying in the house that will encourage other visitors to Onomichi.

Other empty homes will gradually evolve into different places with new uses.

I'm hoping that our work will inspire that kind of long-term, natural change.

Right.

Another urban design is looking to forge connections between old homes and local communities to preserve the cityscapes of Tokyo.

Takinogawa in Tokyo's north has old-fashioned public baths which are very popular with locals.

Welcome.

Japan's public bathhouses come from an era when most homes had no bathing facilities.

A popular place for ordinary people to relax, they were a core part of everyday life.

Beside this bathhouse is a century-old wooden home.

It was originally a residence for the bathhouse staff.

In 2022, it was turned into a community salon for both bathers and general visitors.

It was designed by a group of five volunteers who work to preserve bathhouses.

They first discovered the empty home in 2017.

With support from an international group that preserves cultural artifacts, they created a community space for the neighborhood.

The building is a "Nagaya," a traditional style of housing.

Two families lived in sets of identical rooms.

One side was restored to its original appearance.

The other had its ceiling and floor removed to create a space for visitors to enter with their shoes on.

The wall between the rooms was removed to allow visitors to enter casually, and take their shoes off to relax inside.

The design recreates the nostalgic feel of a "nagaya" home.

The group's leader is Kuryu Haruka.

Bathhouses have always been
he heart of communities.

People held events there,
and formed connections.

Adding an extra space
is a way to open up the bathhouses.

People unused to public
bathing can still drop in.

Bathhouses are less familiar to Japan's younger generations.

The new addition encourages such visitors to try the baths.

We bathe here regularly since
we started using this space.

An older lady stopped us from
getting in the hot bath.

"It's too hot for little ones!"

A place for casual communication.

Restoring the "nagaya" was also an opportunity to forge new connections.

Repairs to the earthen walls were carried out as a workshop, with an expert guiding local residents.

Woven bamboo was set under the plaster, a traditional technique that makes use of natural materials.

A nostalgic atmosphere created by the local community together.

Some folks remember living in
"nagaya," others just enjoy the space.

Sitting here, you can catch
the eye of a passerby and chat.

People used to live much
closer to one another.

It's a surprise, and
a very pleasant change.

Architecture that reminds us of our proximity to other people.

The "nagaya" and bathhouse are rare, pre-war survivors - part of Tokyo's historic landscape, and a reflection of community bonds.

Rebuilding those bonds will help enhance everyday life here for the next generation.

I love that local communication and community.

Catching someone's eye while relaxing in the "nagaya."

I really like that.

I think we've lost that kind of connection, haven't we?

Yes, I feel like we don't remember what it means to center people in our neighborhoods.

I think having people at eye level is extremely important.

Especially when you're building for connection and community.

It makes it much easier to connect with other people in your community when you can look out and see them.

That only happens when you're on the ground floor.

Very true.

Having just worked on something similar, I know how much effort goes into removing old earthen walls, weaving bamboo, and remaking it all.

It's quite a job.

It's really about building on what makes each location unique.

It just looks like the perfect place to doze off after a long soak in the bath next door.

From a spatial perspective, bathhouses are really wonderful.

People bathe every day.

Going to a bathhouse gives an external outlet to everything that's happened at home that day.

It improves communication.

I think it's a similar experience to a sauna, or having a beer with someone.

Having an activity outside the conversation helps people to open up more honestly.

It promotes better relationships and a stronger community, I think.

I agree.

Although the immediate goal is to rescue old houses, the result is actually closer to community design.

And in Onomichi too - the plan is to open the community to outside visitors.

I'm hoping LLOVE HOUSE will serve as a base for cultural communication.

Personally, I really enjoy international exhibitions and fairs.

But at the same time, there are some aspects about them that make me feel uneasy.

Everyone gathers in one single city, boarding long flights to attend from all over the world.

There are so many exhibitions and you can't possibly see them all, so lots of them get overlooked.

I'm not sure there's actually much real communication happening.

I'd like to put more time and effort into building real relationships and achieving true communication.

I think that's a better goal.

I feel the same about those big fairs.

So with LLOVE HOUSE, I'm trying to create a space where people can take their time and luxuriate in that view and in each other's company.

Next, a wooden condo that played a key role in the history of Japanese manga.

An ordinary shopping street in Tokyo's Toshima ward.

A building stands in the neighboring park.

It looks very old, but was only built in 2020.

It's a replica of a two-story wooden apartment building that once stood nearby.

Tokiwa-so was a legendary apartment block.

During the 50s and 60s, it was the home of Tezuka Osamu, known as the god of manga.

By chance, he shared it with other foundation stones of Japan's manga culture.

All still in the early days of their career, they honed their skills and competed against one another.

Despite the building's deep history, it became unsafe and was torn down in 1982.

Nearly 40 years later, enthusiastic local support led to its full-size recreation as a museum.

The chair of the local shopping arcade Koide Mikio dedicated a decade to ensuring its completion.

They lived here until 1962.
This was a proper downtown.

Bustling with shops
on the side streets too.

People flocked here.

But Tokiwaso itself was gone.

The cityscape changed.
Nothing was left at the site.

But the roots of manga culture
first grew here.

That's pretty special.

I think we all wanted to build
a proper hub for it.

Young dreamers made a home in Tokiwa-so when this was a bustling neighborhood.

Only after it was gone did people realize what they'd lost.

Local passion led to its recreation.

A two-story block with no baths, and a row of rooms along a central corridor.

The recreation is designed as a museum for visitors to experience the stories the artists tell of their friendships and enthusiasm.

One room has two desks in a tiny, seven square-meter space.

Residents would have ramen delivered from a nearby shop and work through the night.

These areas were recreated from photos and interviews.

Former residents also assisted with the recreation.

This is very well done.

Manga artist Mizuno Hideko was the only female creator who lived at Tokiwa-so.

This takes me back.

Everyone who lived there
was dedicated to manga.

It was heaven.

Creative director Kato Tsuyoshi paid close attention to the original design.

Wood rubbing against itself
causes the creaking stairs.

They used to hear that and
worry it was an editor.

Angry they'd missed a deadline.

You get a sense of their shared
dreams and passions from books.

But a physical space like this
is important as well.

The location is a real boost.

This is where it all happened.
That's really powerful.

This idea influenced my design.

A group of young creators who shaped a culture from this neighborhood.

Recreating the lost building has helped preserve that passion and the local cityscape.

The museum is in the Ikebukuro area.

There were lots of black markets and general chaos after the war.

It's no surprise it became a cultural hub too.

I'm delighted the area is reclaiming its identity in this way.

And that story about the creaking stairs is wonderful.

They've put a heart and soul into the recreation.

You can really feel the love!

In those days, I feel like it was much easier to reach out to others with a shared passion and come together in a space like that one.

I'm envious of that era, if I'm honest.

It was an extraordinary time for creativity.

It was legendary.

Exactly.

It made me think about new ways to revitalize the entire neighborhood.

Perhaps we could put out a call to today's young manga artists and support them.

We could make use of the empty storefronts along the old shopping arcades.

Maybe turn them into spaces for them to work.

Though I suppose they'd be spread along the length of the arcade.

That would be great.

We could encourage them to do the places up in whatever style they want.

It would lead to more communication with the older folks in the area.

I feel like that's one alternative approach to regenerating the neighborhood.

Interesting.

A way to rebuild several smaller versions of Tokiwa-so, perhaps?

Going back to Onomichi, I know there are new projects that are just getting started.

Have you found any other buildings in the area that you might want to use for something else?

There's actually another building just nearby.

It's situated on the same plot of land.

The famous Japanese author Shiga Naoya lived there for some years.

He wrote all about his experiences living there in his novel "A Dark Night's Passing."

It's a literary masterpiece.

Oh wow.

It's a similar situation to Tokiwa-so.

I think it should be preserved as a key part of the town's cultural heritage.

A physical reminder of the memories that were created there.

I think these tangible memories are so important.

They aren't something you can create for yourself.

So the question becomes, how do we protect these cultural treasures while also inspiring locals to preserve the greater landscape?

I've been getting involved myself, coming up with new designs to see if we can spark this kind of revitalization.

To preserve the local landscape.

I hope we have the opportunity to visit you again.

Thank you for joining us today.

Thank you.

Thank you.