In the labyrinthine back streets of Tokyo stands an odd geometric structure that looks nothing like the houses surrounding it. With its vertical wood siding, imposing oblong form and almost total lack of windows, it looks like an artwork, or a mini fortress. Appropriately enough, it’s called The Keep. And it’s designed as a home.
Past its sliding front door, the interior is small and spartan. There’s no furniture, only three windows and a skylight. Two floors are separated by translucent grating. Its modern conveniences include an induction stove, a shower and one air-conditioner. A ladder reaches a lofted sleeping area.
Shigeru Suzuki, a real estate agent, built this unique abode in Tokyo’s Asagaya district both as a second home and as a kind of showroom for a revived architectural trend, known as kyosho jutaku, that prizes compact homes.
With some of the most densely populated cities in the world, the Japanese are old hands at living in close quarters. From the spread of nagaya tenements and machiya townhouses in the Edo period (1603-1867) to postwar “barrack” tenements, danchi apartment complexes and capsule hotels, Japan has long used innovative designs and multipurpose rooms to make the most of limited space on its archipelago.
Tiny houses can be a more individualistic spin on this tradition. These days, they’re also a response to economic and social changes. With its low birthrate and shrinking population, Japan doesn’t need as many homes to fit large families. One result has been more subdivisions of larger lots to expand the market of affordable homes. Some younger workers in Tokyo are snapping up tiny houses because they don’t want to spend hours each day commuting from cheaper cities outside the capital.
The trend has become so pervasive that some wards in Japan have restricted subdivisions out of fear that too many tiny houses pose a risk of fires and other disasters.
“Tiny houses continue to proliferate in Japan due to real estate economics, social change and, frankly, their appeal,” said Naomi Pollock, an architect and author of “The Japanese House Since 1945.” “Exorbitant inheritance taxes can make it hard to hold onto property when it passes from one generation to the next. Instead of selling the whole lot, a slice is carved off, sold and the proceeds used to pay the tax.”
While there’s no standard definition, tiny homes in Japan often sit on lots of no more than 50 square meters (or 538 square feet). Some are tall and thin, barely wider than a common family car. Many are built on oddly shaped lots — the leftovers of disaster, war or subdivisions of the past.
Mr. Suzuki’s vertical house is shoehorned into a triangular lot measuring about 140 square feet, with a total floor space of roughly 250 square feet. Completed in 2018, it cost about 30 million yen ($200,000) for the land and construction, much less than what larger homes nearby could fetch.
“It’s small, but it’s unique in the world,” said Mr. Suzuki, 76. “Even though the lot is less than half that of your average smaller home, I’ve had people tell me they want to buy it and experience what it would be like to live here.”
The home’s designer, Souichi Kubo, an architect with the Tokyo firm Arch-Planning Atelier, has created many small abodes in unusual locations, often for people who live alone.
When a local street was widened, leaving behind a compact triangular plot, Mr. Kubo filled it with a sleek, two-story home with a mini garden and a living room that doubles as a gallery during the day. For another project in Tokyo’s Setagaya ward, he designed Mogura House, a two-story main residence for Mr. Suzuki measuring 5.9 feet wide and 46 feet long on a narrow plot where a large residential estate had been broken up. It has a tunnellike construction, with an interior courtyard that fills the cramped rooms with light. It maximizes its limited space with a spiral staircase and shelves suspended on ropes.
Mr. Kubo’s work reflects the rippling influence of Japanese minimalism, particularly architect Tadao Ando and his prizewinning 1976 Sumiyoshi House in Osaka — a windowless concrete box, just under 12 feet wide, nestled among more conventional residences. An inward-facing structure, the Sumiyoshi House is centered around a courtyard joining two halves of the structure via stairs and an elevated walkway.
“People want to live in urban centers for the convenience, but many can’t afford large properties,” Mr. Kubo, 62, said of his small designs. “Tiny houses can feel big despite being small. They also appeal to the Japanese love of minimalism and small places.”
Now, tiny homes are sprouting all over the country. In Zushi, a seaside community of 55,000 residents about an hour south of Tokyo, Yoshiki and Tomoko Shimura and their son, Takina, live in a small home they helped design. Perched on a plot of 1,097 square feet, it’s not the tiniest of houses, but it stands out for its thoughtful use of space and surprising number of rooms.
On the second floor, the living room is spacious enough for parties of 17 people. Divan-style seating conceals storage compartments below, and there’s a blank wall for projecting movies. Archways evoking a Moroccan feel separate the living room from a bedroom and the kitchen. Squeeze through an especially narrow arch and you’re in a study that’s barely big enough for a desk and a ladder that leads to a reading loft. Another such nook, reached by a longer ladder, overlooks the other end of the living area.
“During the planning, we envisioned it a bit like a ninja house,” Mr. Shimura, a product designer, said of the home’s pocket-size hide-outs. “We didn’t have the budget for a large place, but we wanted one with multiple spaces. It’s small but there are many ways to enjoy oneself here.”
On the ground floor, Ms. Shimura practices tea ceremony in a traditional Japanese room with tatami mats. There’s also another small bedroom, study and shared family wardrobe. Ms. Shimura said the home’s private areas were a great advantage during the pandemic, when the family was housebound much of the time.
“If clients are willing to try a tiny house, perhaps with a distinctive exterior and adding outdoor elements, the small size is not a negative at all,” said Naoko Mangyoku, chief design officer at On Design Partners, the architecture firm in Yokohama that designed the Shimura home.
In the Negishi district of Yokohama, Junko and Hiroyuki Tashiro built a minimalist house where they could comfortably raise their daughter, Nonoko, and commute to Tokyo in about an hour. “We planned out every inch to eliminate waste,” said Mr. Tashiro, 57, who works in advertising.
Built in 2019 on a 538-square-foot plot, the house has a sheet-metal exterior and a typical tiny layout: a home office and bedroom on the ground floor; a living room, kitchen, balcony and another office on the second floor; and a bathroom, bedroom and balcony on the third. A spiral staircase links the levels, while a skylight and large windows enhance the light and sense of space.
“As a family of three, we wanted to live in a functional space with only the things we need,” said Ms. Tashiro, 58, who does furniture design from home. “Housework is very easy because you don’t waste your energy moving around a big space. We’re very satisfied with our tiny home.”
Living Small is a biweekly column exploring what it takes to lead a simpler, more sustainable or more compact life.
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