TAMAKAWA UPCYCLING BASE
Dialogue with the Environment Through a Cluster of Buildings
This project involves the renovation of a steel-framed workshop, a stone warehouse, and a farmhouse in Tamakawa Village, Ishikawa District, Fukushima Prefecture, near Fukushima Airport.
In October 2019, a major typhoon struck the Fukushima region, causing the Abukuma River to flood and inundating large areas of Kōriyama City. In response, a plan was formulated to create a 350-hectare flood retention basin upstream, necessitating the relocation of approximately 150 houses and farmland. Deeply saddened by the loss of his hometown’s landscape, the client conceived the idea of establishing an upcycling hub—a place where materials from demolished homes, such as structural timber, fittings, and furniture, could be collected, processed, and traded.
This hub was envisioned as a community space where people could engage in anything from small-scale craftwork to professional woodworking under the guidance of resident artisans. The steel-framed workshop was converted into a studio, and the stone warehouse was repurposed into a gallery for displaying materials and antique furniture. The project prioritized upcycling as much existing material as possible, including timber and furniture stockpiled in the client’s warehouse, which had also been slated for relocation. Rather than excessively reprocessing the materials, we sought to integrate elements such as taiko beams while carefully balancing the interplay between old and new materials. The goal was to achieve a beauty that neither relied entirely on the character of reclaimed wood nor defaulted to the uniformity of new materials, but rather emerged from the tension between the two.
As soon as the workshop was completed, it became the site for processing reclaimed materials, and the adjacent farmhouse was transformed into a workspace. A cluster of buildings that had been on the verge of becoming ruins was reborn into a new environment.
This project, which involved sequential renovations of three buildings, is part of our broader approach to architectural design. We have undertaken similar long-term projects, such as designing a cluster of thoroughbred farm structures (since 2014) and a group of sake brewery buildings (since 2016). These projects aim not only to preserve and reorganize architectural clusters but also to sustain and revitalize the larger environment that includes local communities and livelihoods.
To achieve this, we seek to understand the origins of a given environment and its relationship to its inhabitants' ways of life. Rather than imposing a predetermined master plan, we use the design process itself as a means of exploration—an active and unique dialogue with the environment. This process involves original research and, ultimately, critical observation of the interactions between newly introduced buildings and their surroundings.
Thus, we avoid rigidly defining the overall picture, instead keeping it loose and iterative, designing each building one step at a time. We consciously refrain from attempting to plan everything in advance, allowing new insights from the design process to continuously inform and refine the evolving whole. This approach is particularly relevant in an era where both clients and societal conditions change over time. The act of constant revision is meaningful in itself, but more fundamentally, it supports the long-term stewardship of the environment beyond the lifespan of any single building.
When designing architectural clusters, it is not necessary—nor is it desirable—to solve every issue within a single structure. Rather than relying on emergent qualities from highly integrated, multi-programmed buildings, we believe in the potential of emergent qualities arising from a collection of distinct, specialized buildings. This approach allows architecture to engage more broadly with its environment. Each building is designed to remain faithful to its role, expressing its own individuality. This individuality, in turn, fosters redundancy for the future and contributes to the richness of the landscape—an idea embodied by the interplay of these three distinct buildings.
This project involves the renovation of a steel-framed workshop, a stone warehouse, and a farmhouse in Tamakawa Village, Ishikawa District, Fukushima Prefecture, near Fukushima Airport.
In October 2019, a major typhoon struck the Fukushima region, causing the Abukuma River to flood and inundating large areas of Kōriyama City. In response, a plan was formulated to create a 350-hectare flood retention basin upstream, necessitating the relocation of approximately 150 houses and farmland. Deeply saddened by the loss of his hometown’s landscape, the client conceived the idea of establishing an upcycling hub—a place where materials from demolished homes, such as structural timber, fittings, and furniture, could be collected, processed, and traded.
This hub was envisioned as a community space where people could engage in anything from small-scale craftwork to professional woodworking under the guidance of resident artisans. The steel-framed workshop was converted into a studio, and the stone warehouse was repurposed into a gallery for displaying materials and antique furniture. The project prioritized upcycling as much existing material as possible, including timber and furniture stockpiled in the client’s warehouse, which had also been slated for relocation. Rather than excessively reprocessing the materials, we sought to integrate elements such as taiko beams while carefully balancing the interplay between old and new materials. The goal was to achieve a beauty that neither relied entirely on the character of reclaimed wood nor defaulted to the uniformity of new materials, but rather emerged from the tension between the two.
As soon as the workshop was completed, it became the site for processing reclaimed materials, and the adjacent farmhouse was transformed into a workspace. A cluster of buildings that had been on the verge of becoming ruins was reborn into a new environment.
This project, which involved sequential renovations of three buildings, is part of our broader approach to architectural design. We have undertaken similar long-term projects, such as designing a cluster of thoroughbred farm structures (since 2014) and a group of sake brewery buildings (since 2016). These projects aim not only to preserve and reorganize architectural clusters but also to sustain and revitalize the larger environment that includes local communities and livelihoods.
To achieve this, we seek to understand the origins of a given environment and its relationship to its inhabitants' ways of life. Rather than imposing a predetermined master plan, we use the design process itself as a means of exploration—an active and unique dialogue with the environment. This process involves original research and, ultimately, critical observation of the interactions between newly introduced buildings and their surroundings.
Thus, we avoid rigidly defining the overall picture, instead keeping it loose and iterative, designing each building one step at a time. We consciously refrain from attempting to plan everything in advance, allowing new insights from the design process to continuously inform and refine the evolving whole. This approach is particularly relevant in an era where both clients and societal conditions change over time. The act of constant revision is meaningful in itself, but more fundamentally, it supports the long-term stewardship of the environment beyond the lifespan of any single building.
When designing architectural clusters, it is not necessary—nor is it desirable—to solve every issue within a single structure. Rather than relying on emergent qualities from highly integrated, multi-programmed buildings, we believe in the potential of emergent qualities arising from a collection of distinct, specialized buildings. This approach allows architecture to engage more broadly with its environment. Each building is designed to remain faithful to its role, expressing its own individuality. This individuality, in turn, fosters redundancy for the future and contributes to the richness of the landscape—an idea embodied by the interplay of these three distinct buildings.
TAMAKAWA UPCYCLING BASE
Dialogue with the Environment Through a Cluster of Buildings
This project involves the renovation of a steel-framed workshop, a stone warehouse, and a farmhouse in Tamakawa Village, Ishikawa District, Fukushima Prefecture, near Fukushima Airport.
In October 2019, a major typhoon struck the Fukushima region, causing the Abukuma River to flood and inundating large areas of Kōriyama City. In response, a plan was formulated to create a 350-hectare flood retention basin upstream, necessitating the relocation of approximately 150 houses and farmland. Deeply saddened by the loss of his hometown’s landscape, the client conceived the idea of establishing an upcycling hub—a place where materials from demolished homes, such as structural timber, fittings, and furniture, could be collected, processed, and traded.
This hub was envisioned as a community space where people could engage in anything from small-scale craftwork to professional woodworking under the guidance of resident artisans. The steel-framed workshop was converted into a studio, and the stone warehouse was repurposed into a gallery for displaying materials and antique furniture. The project prioritized upcycling as much existing material as possible, including timber and furniture stockpiled in the client’s warehouse, which had also been slated for relocation. Rather than excessively reprocessing the materials, we sought to integrate elements such as taiko beams while carefully balancing the interplay between old and new materials. The goal was to achieve a beauty that neither relied entirely on the character of reclaimed wood nor defaulted to the uniformity of new materials, but rather emerged from the tension between the two.
As soon as the workshop was completed, it became the site for processing reclaimed materials, and the adjacent farmhouse was transformed into a workspace. A cluster of buildings that had been on the verge of becoming ruins was reborn into a new environment.
This project, which involved sequential renovations of three buildings, is part of our broader approach to architectural design. We have undertaken similar long-term projects, such as designing a cluster of thoroughbred farm structures (since 2014) and a group of sake brewery buildings (since 2016). These projects aim not only to preserve and reorganize architectural clusters but also to sustain and revitalize the larger environment that includes local communities and livelihoods.
To achieve this, we seek to understand the origins of a given environment and its relationship to its inhabitants' ways of life. Rather than imposing a predetermined master plan, we use the design process itself as a means of exploration—an active and unique dialogue with the environment. This process involves original research and, ultimately, critical observation of the interactions between newly introduced buildings and their surroundings.
Thus, we avoid rigidly defining the overall picture, instead keeping it loose and iterative, designing each building one step at a time. We consciously refrain from attempting to plan everything in advance, allowing new insights from the design process to continuously inform and refine the evolving whole. This approach is particularly relevant in an era where both clients and societal conditions change over time. The act of constant revision is meaningful in itself, but more fundamentally, it supports the long-term stewardship of the environment beyond the lifespan of any single building.
When designing architectural clusters, it is not necessary—nor is it desirable—to solve every issue within a single structure. Rather than relying on emergent qualities from highly integrated, multi-programmed buildings, we believe in the potential of emergent qualities arising from a collection of distinct, specialized buildings. This approach allows architecture to engage more broadly with its environment. Each building is designed to remain faithful to its role, expressing its own individuality. This individuality, in turn, fosters redundancy for the future and contributes to the richness of the landscape—an idea embodied by the interplay of these three distinct buildings.
This project involves the renovation of a steel-framed workshop, a stone warehouse, and a farmhouse in Tamakawa Village, Ishikawa District, Fukushima Prefecture, near Fukushima Airport.
In October 2019, a major typhoon struck the Fukushima region, causing the Abukuma River to flood and inundating large areas of Kōriyama City. In response, a plan was formulated to create a 350-hectare flood retention basin upstream, necessitating the relocation of approximately 150 houses and farmland. Deeply saddened by the loss of his hometown’s landscape, the client conceived the idea of establishing an upcycling hub—a place where materials from demolished homes, such as structural timber, fittings, and furniture, could be collected, processed, and traded.
This hub was envisioned as a community space where people could engage in anything from small-scale craftwork to professional woodworking under the guidance of resident artisans. The steel-framed workshop was converted into a studio, and the stone warehouse was repurposed into a gallery for displaying materials and antique furniture. The project prioritized upcycling as much existing material as possible, including timber and furniture stockpiled in the client’s warehouse, which had also been slated for relocation. Rather than excessively reprocessing the materials, we sought to integrate elements such as taiko beams while carefully balancing the interplay between old and new materials. The goal was to achieve a beauty that neither relied entirely on the character of reclaimed wood nor defaulted to the uniformity of new materials, but rather emerged from the tension between the two.
As soon as the workshop was completed, it became the site for processing reclaimed materials, and the adjacent farmhouse was transformed into a workspace. A cluster of buildings that had been on the verge of becoming ruins was reborn into a new environment.
This project, which involved sequential renovations of three buildings, is part of our broader approach to architectural design. We have undertaken similar long-term projects, such as designing a cluster of thoroughbred farm structures (since 2014) and a group of sake brewery buildings (since 2016). These projects aim not only to preserve and reorganize architectural clusters but also to sustain and revitalize the larger environment that includes local communities and livelihoods.
To achieve this, we seek to understand the origins of a given environment and its relationship to its inhabitants' ways of life. Rather than imposing a predetermined master plan, we use the design process itself as a means of exploration—an active and unique dialogue with the environment. This process involves original research and, ultimately, critical observation of the interactions between newly introduced buildings and their surroundings.
Thus, we avoid rigidly defining the overall picture, instead keeping it loose and iterative, designing each building one step at a time. We consciously refrain from attempting to plan everything in advance, allowing new insights from the design process to continuously inform and refine the evolving whole. This approach is particularly relevant in an era where both clients and societal conditions change over time. The act of constant revision is meaningful in itself, but more fundamentally, it supports the long-term stewardship of the environment beyond the lifespan of any single building.
When designing architectural clusters, it is not necessary—nor is it desirable—to solve every issue within a single structure. Rather than relying on emergent qualities from highly integrated, multi-programmed buildings, we believe in the potential of emergent qualities arising from a collection of distinct, specialized buildings. This approach allows architecture to engage more broadly with its environment. Each building is designed to remain faithful to its role, expressing its own individuality. This individuality, in turn, fosters redundancy for the future and contributes to the richness of the landscape—an idea embodied by the interplay of these three distinct buildings.