Japanese mountain deities

Architectural Review, The, Oct, 1997 by Fred D. Thompson

Ma

The notion of a continuum, therefore, is ultimately the key to our understanding of Japanese space. Japanese ma,[5] or space time, is not fragmented, labelled and contained like space in the West, but is rather an emptiness or void that gains its form only in relation to unseen boundaries created by the activities performed in it.

We can therefore think of the ma referred to by architects as a sort of spatial current, a combination of spacing and timing as a constant flow of possibilities, a tension between things allowing for different patterns of interpretation. A Japanese room, for instance, can be used simultaneously for living, sleeping and eating, and is called an eight mat ma. Or, the context of a space might change from a study to one for a tea ceremony by the addition of a flower arrangement. These artitacts are, to use the etymology of the word 'symbol', a 'bringing together' of the space with the utensils, giving the spatial current its temporary form. Like the form of a stream, the form of spaces in a house is the result of process patterns. In fact, Kikutake Kiyonori[6] has said that form is not merely the visible delineation of a space but is rather the total consideration of space with its function. Ma is constantly awaiting or undergoing transformation by the availability of physical components and potential uses. Kikutake, like Itoh Teiji, is recognising process patterns rather than objects.

The interval of Shinto is therefore closely bound to the intervals of nature which cause fields to yield the harvest and then to lie in fallow. The Shinto deities are invited for the season of fertility, production and harvest to an impermanent resting place in the fields. This temporary resting place for the deities might be symbolised by a straw rope hung between four bamboo saplings set up in a rice field. While the deities are invisible, the way of formalising and experiencing their presence is postulated by the temporary preparation of a space for the gods to visit. The void in the rice field created by these four saplings (or symbols) is then filled with the spiritual form of the deities called ki. The presence of this spiritual force spreads out and transforms the fields, temporarily, from a profane place for growing rice to a sacred place for the deities to rest. The sense of ma here, too, is therefore indefinite and temporary, like that of the eight-mat room which can be transformed by sliding doors and the addition of various accoutrements to take on one form after another.

More difficult to understand, however, is the lack of Japanese civic spaces with a monumental character typical of the West. Japan does have great temples and shrines which are, in many ways, equal in scale and grandeur to Western architecture. There are also great open spaces in front of and around buildings; yet, as Itoh Teiji points out, these spaces were to be experienced by moving through them rather than by viewing them from a fixed vantage point: 'Sequential spaces', he says, 'may be understood as a distribution of memories of the experience, noting that the content of memory includes not only the beauty of physical space, but also the story, or legend concerning the elements along the path.'[7]