Traditional Japanese Interior Design

Interior Features: Screens and sliding doors​​​​​​​​​​​

Shōji

Shōji (Fig. 106) are sliding doors made of a latticework wooden frame covered with translucent washi. They diffuse light throughout a room when closed, and can be removed completely in summer to open the house to outside ventilation—an appealing feature in Japan’s high, often stifling humidity. Shōji have been a mainstay as interior fixtures in traditional Japanese architecture since the Heian period (794-1185). They were originally used to reconfigure interior space according to functional needs, or to separate interior from exterior, but their distinctive ability to disseminate light through washi “windows” has become a signature feature of Japanese domestic culture and distinctive element of home life.

Washi

Known worldwide today for its color stability and durability, washi (Fig. 107) is produced primarily from the fibers of mulberry tree bark. This bark is peeled away to the inner white layer, then soaked in water, where the scum from any water-soluble impurities is removed and the fibers softened. (The traditional method of "river bleaching" involved soaking the mulberry bark in the flowing water of a river for two to three days.) Following this step, the bark undergoes a series of processes, including boiling, removing discolored parts, and beating, before dipping with a screen to make the paper sheets. After the process of rocking the fiber into sheets, the moisture is pressed out, then the sheets are separated, pasted onto large boards and sun-dried. The finished paper is carefully inspected sheet by sheet. This involves holding it up to natural light and removing sheets with flaws, foreign matter or irregularities. Sheets are then sorted by thickness.

Shōji Features

• Illuminating rooms with soft, even ambient light: White, translucent washi filters and dissipates forty to fifty percent of direct sunlight. Appearance-wise, this feature maintains the soft feel of ambient daylight, while blocking the direct rays of the sun. As the light passes through the paper, it is diffused in all directions, evenly illuminating the entire room. The contrast between the sharpness of light near windows and dark areas in the back corners of the room is eliminated, bathing the room in soft, uniform natural light.

• Natural geometric aesthetic appeal: Shōji are typically made of wood and paper. They are incorporated into interior design plans to provide a natural feel. The perpendicular lines of the wood frame and the textured weave of the white paper work to create a unique geometric aesthetic, which not only helps unify interior space, but serves as the focal point of the room. Moreover, replacing washi panels at regular intervals rejuvenates the look and feel of a room for a refreshing change of pace.

• Enhanced nighttime illumination: The surfaces of shōji doors become one with the surrounding walls, as the high reflection rate of interior light sources off shōji paper generates an atmosphere of warm indoor illumination. This reflected light harmonizes with the color of wood and other room items in creating a unique Japanese aesthetic.

• Warms in winter, cools in summer: Shōji are also effective energy savers. Since the wood-and-paper panels absorb solar radiated heat, they decrease inflow heat to approximately half that of clear glass windows. With cooling by fan or air conditioning necessary to offset the solar heat source, only half the cooling resources are needed; thus, the energy savings can be substantial. Shōji act as an insulating barrier to prevent heated air loss from windows and other escape routes, significantly lowering the level of overnight dissipation from radiative cooling of heat accumulated in the room during daytime hours. If the room-side interior is primarily wood, it will have low thermal conductivity, making it more advantageous in terms of thermal loss than that of a double-glazed window with a metal sash.

• Comfortable interior room temperature control: Even in heated rooms, the human body may become chilled near windows or outside doorways—a phenomenon known as “cold draft.” Air cooled by walls, windows, or doorways sinks, collecting in pockets of cold air near the floor beneath the cold draft source. Installing inner shōji helps reduce body chilling by working to prevent cold drafts from entering the room. As cold air falls, glass surfaces are not exposed directly to the cold air, sharply decreasing indoor air cooling. Since the washi used in shōji is porous, it provides natural ventilation and filtration properties, another important feature. It also helps control room humidity, which in turn, prevents extreme indoor temperature changes. These benefits make shōji ideal for Japan and other humid climates.

Other Interior Features​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Japanese interiors highlight the flexibility to adapt to diverse needs quickly and easily. Adjoining chambers complement each other in cases of separate use and, when necessary, shōji panels can be removed to combine the compartments into a single multifunctional space. Depending on the occasion, futon, interior furnishings and other necessities are stored in spacious closets when not in use.

“Furniture was sparse in medieval Japanese homes, but might include floor cushions (zabuton), a low table (chabudai), small storage cabinets (kodana), and chests (tansu). These items were often made of unusual wood or bamboo, with decorative designs using lacquer and gilding. Swords, jewelry and other valuables were often kept in chests in the northeast corner of the house, where according to Ainu tradition, its guardian spirit was said to dwell.” 

Climate Control

Another sustainable feature of traditional interiors were the passive climate control measures in place to maximize indoor comfort at a time when technical capabilities to compete with the natural elements did not have the advantages of electricity. These measures included:

• Evaporative cooling

• Cross ventilation through long, narrow passageways

• Central and rear courtyards allowing flow of air and providing natural light

• Use of deciduous trees and vines for filtering direct sunlight

• Deep eaves to create shadows longer during the day

Natural Lighting

Outside light filtering through shōji was the key element of the natural lighting of traditional Japanese interiors and the understated ambience they are famous for. Many rooms had no ceilings, with interior space extending upward to the underside of the roof, producing a pattern of natural light in which brightness was strongest in the lower part of the room, and weakest toward the ceiling. Fixtures made of natural materials—reed blinds (sudare) (Fig. 108), latticed wood shutters (shitomi) (Fig. 109), tatami mats—worked in concert to create a soothing, balanced feel. Below is a sampling of accessories used to complement natural lighting when necessary:

Home Interiors in Satsuma

Below are two examples of sliding doors in Japan. The picture on the left shows both fusuma and shōji, while the righthand picture is shōji only.

Week 5: The Spectrum of Tradition

Finally, some great news on the apprentice front! Renovations begin July 4th—and if things actually go as planned, the timing couldn’t be better. Now that my App State course is done, I won’t have to go through the nightmare of shutting down my laptop most mornings at 3:00 a.m., only to strap on my carpenter’s belt three hours later.

Also this week, even the weather was on our side, so my aunt and I took advantage of the sunny skies to inspect some must-see venues. First, Sogi Falls (Fig. 116). Known locally as the “Niagara of the East,” the resemblance of this complex of forty-foot falls and rapids to the real Niagara of the West, if on a smaller scale, is unmistakable. We had scheduled the falls as a quick recreational stop, but before reaching the water, we discovered sugi (cedar) (Fig. 117) and akamatsu (red pine) (Fig. 118) trees in abundance! (Sugi and akamatsu are important sources of residential timber mentioned in Week 4.) I shot photos of both those species from a distance for that post, but up close—touching the bark and leaves, looking straight up from ground level—I came away with a new sense of reverence, maybe even a better appreciation of how Japanese carpenters felt.

Next, not far from the falls, we came upon Shimizu Jinja (Fig. 119), a Shinto shrine, which, to our surprise, enshrined the god of love and relationships—a love shrine! There is no resident priest, but local singles hoping to find romance and marriage partners come with offerings to pray and purchase good luck artifacts—omikuji (sacred fortunes) (Fig. 120) and ema (votive tablets)—to boost their odds. After tossing a donation of small-denomination coins into the saisenbako (offertory box) in front of the main hall and ringing the nearby prayer bell to alert the goddess, they offer silent prayers, which they then write out on heart-shaped wooden tablets to leaving hanging on the shrine walls in the hopes of receiving her blessings.

I had heard my father talk of Buddhist “love temples,” which had changed their “specialty” to matchmaking from their previous benefits in the interests of greater name value and commercial traffic. He had also explained that with this new breed of temples came online sites that reported to young people looking for marriage partners and dating opportunities, but this was the first I had heard of shrines following suit. Many Buddhist temples were famous for specialties like success in college entrance exams, healthy childbirth and business success in addition to matchmaking, but a love shrine was a first for me.

Two days later, she and I visited Inadome Shrine (Fig. 121, 122), a historic site built in 1669. For centuries it had held festivals, holiday rituals and children’s rite-of-passage celebrations, but in recent years has fallen into disuse due to Covid. The three gods enshrined there are among the highest-ranking Shinto deities:

• Ame no Uzume no Mikoto: the goddess of dawn, mirth, meditation, revelry and the arts, and wife of fellow god Sarutahiko no Mikoto

• Sarutahiko no Mikoto: the leader of the earthly kami and husband of Ame no Uzume no Mikoto (above)

• Toyouke-Ōmikami: the goddess of agriculture and industry.

Temples, which I have focused on until now, are generally larger than shrines, but offer a more limited selection of goods and services, although many of the attractions and good luck charms they offer overlap with their Shinto counterparts. Shrines hold festivals for many occasions, sometimes honoring different gods, whereas temples focus on funeral rites, obon (Festival of the Dead) and services for ancestors’ souls up to fifty years after death.

But here, too, the main attraction for me were the kashi (oak) trees on the shrine compound. The largest featured sacred shimenawa rope festooned with sacred paper streamers (shide) encircling the trunk—the standard designation of sacred trees (Fig. 123). (Shimenawa are also used to indicate sacred boulders, if less frequently than trees.) It’s one thing to see photos of these huge monoliths draped with sacred rope, but standing next to this ancient relic was a humbling experience I had never felt in natural surroundings in America. This sacred giant and others like it are a tribute to the significance they still hold for the Japanese, especially for seniors in Satsuma and other rural areas.

It was only a matter of days later, however, before I encountered several examples of how those Shinto-inspired traditions are beginning to disappear. There is a house several doors down from my grandmother’s that is being completely rebuilt (Figs. 125, 128). My aunt knows the owners and they agreed to let me do a mid-construction walk-through. The first thing I noticed? The unsparing reliance on metal screws. There were some joinery-like connections, but they, too, were fastened with these screws (Figs. 126, 127). I was even more surprised, however, to find no signs of an engawa (veranda), though I decided not to ask whether that was due to issues of space, budget or preference. Whatever the reason, the reality is that the engawa is just one of many traditions that, even here in Satsuma, the modern world continues to chip away at.

In that same house, I also found fewer sliding glass doors than I had expected serving as outer walls (Fig. 129). I could tell from the stick framing that traditional fusuma and shōji would be used in the house interior, but I saw only two sets of sliding glass doors for the entire house. The traditional versions of these doors were once a mainstay of Japanese homes that allowed the structure to be completely opened to the outside—a feature in less demand with the advent of air conditioning. And once I noticed the insulation used in cavities throughout the structure, I realized how significant the inroads of Western architecture had become.

With an eye on Week 6, only seven more days until my App State class is over! It’ll be a huge relief to get back to a normal sleep schedule, not to mention having more time to focus on what I came here for. Next week, my aunt and I have planned a road trip to the Iriki Fumoto samurai residence, while the larger Izumi Fumoto samurai settlement is tentatively scheduled for July 9th. I am glad to report that the more I see of Japan’s traditional architecture, the more I look forward to working with it in the future. I hope everyone has enjoyed this post, and look forward to seeing you again for the next installment.