Interviews with Genta TAKANO

In Forest Archetype House, biophilic design was not understood as the act of incorporating natural colors, materials, or forms into a residence. Rather, it was an attempt to translate the spatial logic of the forest itself into an architectural order. While many conventional references to nature tend to remain at the level of visual elements such as wood grain, greenery, or curved forms, this house reconstructs the repetition of trunks, density, depth, fluctuation of light, and overlapping lines of sight experienced within the forest as relationships between structure, furniture, circulation, and places to dwell.The trunk-like structural elements arranged in four layers are not merely symbolic. They serve as an architectural framework that divides space, controls views, and gently embraces the daily life of the family. Furthermore, by layering what I call the “forest of furniture” within this framework, the house becomes not a closed box, but an environment that generates a multilayered spatial experience, as if one were walking through a forest.The coexistence aimed for in this residence is not about aesthetically borrowing from the surrounding nature. It is about receiving the logic of the forest while creating an autonomous architectural order, allowing nature and human life to resonate with one another without either overwhelming the other. The essence of this project lies in treating nature not as an object to be viewed, but as a principle that forms the very structure of living.

In Forest Archetype House, creating a forest-like space through large vertical elements within a wooden structure was an important theme both architecturally and structurally. At the same time, the more strongly this verticality was emphasized, the clearer the structural challenge became: how to resist lateral forces during earthquakes. The reinforcement using aramid fiber sheets was not merely a technical treatment for this issue, but an essential element in making the architectural design language possible.Through this reinforcement, it became possible to retain the mass, warmth, and physical presence of wood while incorporating the necessary structural performance within the building itself. As a result, the structural elements do not close the space as walls, but stand like tree trunks, gently dividing the interior while allowing light and lines of sight to pass through. In this sense, the structural constraint did not limit the design. Rather, it became a catalyst for strengthening the layered spatial composition of the house.In considering earthquake-resistant wooden architecture in residential design, I believe that this kind of hybrid material strategy expands the possibilities of timber construction. By combining the traditional texture and bodily quality of wood with advanced reinforcement technology, wooden architecture can achieve a freer and more delicate spatial expression. What is important is not to conceal technology, but to allow it to support the architectural concept and spatial experience at a deeper level.

I believe that the four-layer structural system of Forest Archetype House responds very specifically to the evaluation criteria of spatial harmony, natural light, and integration with the surrounding environment. In this residence, the adjacent forest is not treated merely as a background. Instead, the verticality, density, depth, and overlapping lines of sight created by the trunks of the forest are incorporated as fundamental principles of the architectural composition. The structural elements arranged in four layers do not function as walls that close off space. Rather, like tree trunks within a forest, they gently define places for people to dwell, creating multiple layers of depth and rhythm within the interior.In addition, the silver steel plates used on the ceilings and walls play an important role in softening and blurring the boundaries within the architecture by reflecting and diffusing the surrounding scenery and light. These reflective surfaces draw the presence of the forest and sky into the interior, creating the illusion that the ceiling extends upward into the sky and the sensation that the depth of the walls gradually dissolves. Natural light does not simply enter through large openings. It passes through the structural elements, furniture, and reflective steel surfaces, appearing as multilayered expressions of light that change according to time and season.For our studio, this award signifies an international recognition of our attitude toward architecture: not to quote nature decoratively, but to read the latent spatial logic of the site and translate it into structure, material, light, and the movement of the body. We hope to continue pursuing architecture that neither submits to the natural landscape nor stands in opposition to it, but instead creates a genuine dialogue in which architecture and nature enhance one another’s presence.

In Forest Archetype House, I understood the sensibility of small, fragmented spaces often found in Japanese houses and the openness and continuity required by contemporary life not as opposing conditions, but as qualities that could coexist. Traditional Japanese spaces contain a delicate sense of spatial division created through fusuma sliding doors, shoji screens, columns, furniture, and gradations of light. These elements do not completely close off space, but instead divide territories while allowing atmosphere, presence, and traces of life to remain. I wanted to reinterpret this sensibility in a form appropriate for a contemporary residence.In this house, the trunk-like structural elements arranged in four layers and the “forest of furniture” gently divide the space, rather than subdividing rooms with solid walls. As a result, the family can inhabit one large continuous space while still having distinct places to dwell and different degrees of distance from one another. Views are not completely blocked, and light and atmosphere remain continuous, yet the body experiences the interior as a collection of smaller places. This ambiguous form of division became the key to connecting a Japanese sense of space with contemporary openness. At the same time, it is experientially equivalent to finding air-pocket-like places to dwell within a forest.Through this challenge, I came to understand that Japanese spatial tradition can evolve not by reproducing past forms as they are, but by reinterpreting the sensibility that lies behind them. Concepts such as small rooms, voids, atmosphere, and depth remain meaningful in contemporary life. However, they need to be reinterpreted not as devices of closure, but as devices for creating relationships. In Forest Archetype House, tradition is inherited not as a fixed form, but as spatial intelligence, and is developed into a new continuity that connects the forest with the life of the family.

The metal ceiling surface above the central void was conceived not as a material intended to make a strong visual statement, but as a surface that quietly receives the surrounding environment. In Forest Archetype House, the aim was not simply to view the forest and sky as scenery outside the windows, but to allow their changes to permeate the light and atmosphere of the interior. To achieve this, I needed a surface that was not merely bright, but capable of gently registering sunlight, the movement of clouds, the swaying of trees, and the seasonal changes of greenery and snow, without reflecting them too explicitly.I chose a metal surface with a restrained gloss in order to diffuse light, color, and the presence of the surroundings softly, rather than reflecting images clearly like a mirror. If the reflection were too strong, the material itself would become the visual focus and dominate the space. If it were too weak, however, the continuity with the external environment would be lost. Through this intermediate, ambiguous reflectivity, the ceiling retains its physical presence as a material while functioning like a thin membrane that receives the changing sky and forest.This ceiling surface is not so much a finishing material that completes the space as it is a device that draws time and season into the interior. What appears on it is not a clear landscape, but gradations of light, subtle fluctuations of color, and the atmosphere of the outside world. By carefully suppressing the gloss, brightness, and strength of reflection, I sought a balance in which the architecture steps slightly back and the environment itself quietly emerges. As a result, the boundaries between inside and outside, ceiling and sky, architecture and forest are gently blurred, and the entire house becomes a space that responds to the changes of its surroundings.

I feel that Forest Archetype House is not an architecture that becomes complete at the moment of its completion, but a residence whose meaning gradually emerges through time and the changing seasons. The forests of Sapporo change dramatically throughout the year. In spring, as the snow melts, light begins to reach the ground. In summer, the leaves increase in density and create deep shadows. In autumn, colors are reflected throughout the space. In winter, snow abstracts the outline of the forest. Experiencing these changes after the completion of the house made me realize once again that the four-layer spatial system was not a fixed composition, but a flexible receptor for receiving the different states of the forest in each season.In particular, through the overlapping of structural elements, furniture, reflective metal surfaces, the central void, and openings, light, lines of sight, and the presence of the outside world appear within the interior with different degrees of depth depending on the season. In summer, the house resonates with the density of the forest, while in winter, the whiteness of snow and the diffusion of light transform the space into something more abstract and quiet. In this sense, the spatial logic of this house does not simply capture a temporary image of the forest. Rather, it is a system that receives the very process of change inherent in the forest itself.This experience will become an important guide for my future architectural practice. Instead of quoting nature as a form, I want to continue reading the latent qualities of each site—time, density, light, distance, and atmosphere—and translating them into architectural structure and spatial experience. The study of the spatial logic of the forest that I developed through Forest Archetype House will continue to serve as a foundation for exploring architecture in which the environment and human life quietly resonate with one another.

The most important lesson I learned through the development of Forest Archetype House is that, in order to abstract nature into architecture, it is necessary not to imitate natural forms, but to read the order that exists behind them. To begin a design from the forest does not mean simply incorporating the shape of trees or the image of greenery. It means understanding the spatial logic that constitutes the forest—the repetition of trunks, density, depth, fluctuations of light, overlapping lines of sight, and seasonal change—and translating it into an architectural structure that supports human life.In this project, structure, furniture, materials, light, and circulation were not treated as separate elements, but were composed as one overlapping environment. What was important was not to create a strong formal gesture, but to generate multiple degrees of distance, places to dwell, and subtle atmospheres within the space. In this sense, architecture can become not an object that reproduces nature, but an intelligent device that mediates between nature and human life.If there is an aspect of the project that I feel has not yet been fully appreciated, it is that this house is not simply a residence opened toward the forest, but a work that translates the logic of the forest into the internal structure of everyday living. The four-layer structural system, the “forest of furniture,” the reflective metal surfaces, and the changing qualities of light are not separate design elements. They form one integrated system for creating continuity between family life and the surrounding environment.I also believe that the way the house acquires different expressions with the passage of time and through the changing seasons is an essential aspect of the architecture. This residence demonstrates that architecture should not be understood only by its form at the moment of completion, but as something that matures together with its environment over time.

The suspended panels in Forest Archetype House were conceived not as merely decorative elements, but as spatial mediators that architecturally translate the density and permeability of a forest canopy. In a forest, it is not only the trunks of the trees, but also the layers of branches and leaves above them that greatly influence the way light enters, how the sky is perceived, and the sense of scale experienced by the body. In this residence as well, the central void was not intended to be simply an empty space opened upward. Rather, by giving a certain density to its upper portion, I sought to create a condition in which light and sightlines are first filtered, allowing depth and calmness to emerge within the space.The shape of the panels was kept as simple as possible, not to represent trees figuratively, but to receive light, avoid blocking views excessively, and provide an appropriate scale in relation to the body. If the panels were too large, they would feel heavy, almost like a solid ceiling surface. If they were too small, they would fail to create the continuous atmosphere of a canopy. The spacing was therefore adjusted while considering the openness of the sky when looking up from beneath the void, the visual overlap with the surrounding forest, and the way light would fall at different times of day. If the density were too high, the space would feel closed. If it were too sparse, the panels would lose their ability to mediate the space. I therefore searched for an ambiguous permeability that exists between these two conditions.During the design process, I examined not only dimensional relationships on drawings, but also the way the panels overlapped, their relationship with the central void, and the changing sightlines of people moving beneath them through CG studies. What was important was not to make the panels appear beautiful as independent objects, but to allow the relationship between light, ceiling, sky, and forest to be perceived as subtly changing each time a person walks, looks upward, or pauses within the space. Ultimately, these panels do not directly reproduce the forest canopy above. Rather, they form an architectural layer that quietly draws into the interior the filtered light and enveloping sense of scale found within a forest.

I believe that the experience of moving through Forest Archetype House is fundamentally different from that of a conventional residence of the same scale. In a typical house of approximately 124 square meters, the limited floor area is often divided efficiently into rooms, with each function clearly assigned to a specific space. In this residence, however, the space is not conceived simply as a collection of rooms. Instead, circulation, structure, furniture, light, and lines of sight are composed as one continuous environment. As a result, the house creates a spatial experience with a sense of depth, change, and discovery that exceeds its actual floor area.The residents do not simply move from one room to another. Rather, they live as if walking through a forest, passing between trunk-like structural elements and the “forest of furniture.” Views are never completely closed off, yet everything is not revealed at once. With each slight movement, the way light enters, the height of the ceiling, the sense of distance to the surrounding forest, and the relationship with other family members subtly change. This continuous transformation creates multiple places to dwell and a psychological sense of expansiveness within a limited area.I believe that the spatial continuity which most strongly conveys the underlying logic of the forest is the sequence centered around the central void, where the four-layer structural system, the forest of furniture, the reflective metal surfaces, and the external trees overlap with one another. In this sequence, inside and outside, private and shared space, nearness and distance, brightness and shadow do not switch abruptly. Instead, they gradually transition into one another. Just as places to dwell naturally emerge within a forest through the density of trees and the gradation of light, this house seeks to create spatial richness not by fixing boundaries, but through changing relationships.In other words, the openness of this residence is not achieved simply by creating a large space. It is an openness generated by the continuity of small changes, the layering of multiple depths, and the movement of the body through them. Forest Archetype House demonstrates that the richness of a residence is not determined only by the size of its floor area, but can be created through the density of spatial composition and the experience of movement.