The Complexities of the Japanese Teahouse

The architecture of the classic Japanese teahouse and garden typically strives to reflect the wabi ideals of simplicity and rusticity. However, the many subtle points that have to be considered during actual construction inadvertently make the concept of the teahouse complex. The definitive air of refined rusticity of the chashitsu (teahouse) and rōji (garden) is achieved through the careful selection and calculated use of natural, decorative materials, the purpose of which is to achieve an unlimited number of visual effects within this confined space (Nishi, 107-108). For example, the rustic visual effect is enhanced by skillfully positioning the windows and manipulating the height of the tokonoma (decorative alcove). In this paper, the intricacies and underlying significance of various aspects of the traditional teahouse will be discussed in detail, in addition to a brief introduction to the Japanese tea ceremony.

To the untrained eye, the tea ceremony may appear to be a simple and effortless routine which precedes the consummation of green tea, but much like the effort that goes into the teahouse architecture, every movement is elaborate and purposeful. Sen no Rikyû (1522-91), who advocated wabi-tea (poverty tea), combined the Zen ideals of simplicity and restraint with his love of nature to create a ritual that has since been regarded as unique to the Japanese culture. "The name of the ceremony, cha-no-yu, literally "hot water for tea," reflects this simplicity, yet the ritualized sequence of actions that produces the bowl of tea itself is very elaborate" (PMA, 1). The tea ceremony used to be an opportunity for aristocrats to ostentatiously display their wealth, perhaps best known being Toyotomi Hideyoshi's great cha-no-yu at Kitano where he put on display his entire tea vessel collection and indiscriminately invited the public to enjoy a cup of tea. But over time, cha-no-yu slowly evolved into a thorough exemplar of Zen principles, based on Sen no Rikyû's wabi ideals and standards of poverty, humility, and restraint (Fischer, 3).

"Wabi does not mean to deny things, but rather to penetrate as far as possible to their true essence and therein to discern beauty...It is a beauty of restraint. Wabi goes beyond the aesthetics of things and becomes a state of mind" (Murai, 28). The Japanese believe that the ultimate sense of beauty manifests itself in things that are plain. The concepts of the wabi aesthetic and wamono suki (liking for things Japanese) similarly favor objects crude and imperfect (Murai, 22).

Wabi's purpose is not to compete with the tea ways and precious objects of people like the Ashikaga shoguns and the hegemons Nobunaga and Hideyoshi. On the contrary, it has always rejected the "karamono [superficially beautiful item] magnificence" and meibutsu [well-known product] perfectionism that these people commonly pursued. But since meibutsu could not be entirely ignored, wabi sought a new harmony of taste by setting a few of these treasures against cruder utensils.

(Kumakura, 60)

Rikyû believed in achieving a dynamic equilibrium in the quiet tension and spatial balance of the teahouse and garden. He was particularly fond of the sôan design (two to four-and-a-half mat teahouse, literally meaning "grass cottage"), and his fascination for the humble and seemingly plain sôan stemmed from its ability to maintain a unique spatial tension. "Its small size and harmonious proportions and simple suggestiveness have therefore supplied a model that can be employed to lend simple distinction to the smallest space" (Sadler, 21). The sôan may lack the fundamental architectural rules used for Shintô shrines, Buddhist temples or palaces, but is more capable of incorporating umpteen subtle features into a cramped area than a well-crafted, stricter order of architecture would be (Hayashiya, 172).

Rikyû's design of the sôan is aptly summarized and described as follows, "[t]he roof was thatched, and the posts, including those that supported the eaves, were directly embedded in the ground - that is, with no foundation stones. In a word, it was an extremely simple structure" (Hayashiya, 171). "Rikyû emphasized the unembellished natural building materials, the exposed wood members, left unpainted, the crude plaster of the ochre walls and the thatch roof" (Fischer, 3). These ideals are reflected in several early seventeenth century tearooms, such as the Yûin teahouse (four-and-a-half mats in size) and the Konnichi-an (one full-length mat for guests and a three-quarter-length daime mat for the server) that now both belong to the Urasenke Tea School based in Kyôto (Fischer, 3-4). In particular, the Yûin has a distinctly simple and rustic quality owing to its miscanthus roof and a bamboo broom hanging from the middle post outside (Nishi, 116). Sadler reiterates this obsession with simplicity, "
Besides the fundamentals of simplicity and rusticity, there are four guiding principles behind the tea ceremony, namely, respect (kei), harmony (wa), purity (sei) and tranquility (jaku). The architecture of the teahouse and garden is also aligned with these four principles. For example, in keeping with wa, the tea master should think only about the equilibrium of his heart and mind, and regardless how distinguished his guest may be, he and everyone present must forget all titles and mundane symbols of magnificence, and focus on emptying their minds of worldly troubles (Sadler, 7). In achieving this state of detachment, one ironically achieves kei (respect for every area of the world) as well. Sei is evident in the construction of the tsukubai (crouching basin) in the rôji for the ritual of washing one's hands and mouth before entering the chashitsu, just to give an example. "Creative power comes from nature, and ceremonial observance is best accomplished in close affinity with nature. Art and the tea ceremony are therefore best experienced as part of nature, acknowledging the source of artistic inspiration" (PMA, 4). By integrating the teahouse with elements of nature in the garden, a deep sense of jaku is achieved. "In this way, the composition of the teahouse and garden [is] completely unified in the pursuit of one sole aim - that of the cha-no-yu" (Hayashiya, 168).

Rôji

In line with Rikyû's sôan-style teahouse, the accompanying rôji, literally 'dewy ground,'is natural and understated. "[T]he designers of the tea gardens sought the quiet atmosphere of the deep mountains (shinzan-no-tei)" (Keane, 78). Despite being in the city, upon entering the gateway, one gets the impression they have arrived in the countryside or a utopia nestled in the remote mountains. The rôji should not be extravagant and distracting to guests. The various features of the rôji should not feel prominent and awkward, but instead should come together to convey a sense of idyllic unpretentiousness. The feeling should be of a simple mountain path lined with ordinary trees and stepping stones arranged in an interesting manner. Rikyû's reply when asked to describe his ideal rôji was "[t]hick green moss, all pure and sunny warm" (Sadler, 19).

One of the goals of Japanese teahouse architecture is to create an interesting environment, a temporary refuge from the routines of daily life, by tastefully and skillfully arranging intrinsically valueless things (Sadler, 22). In the case of the rôji, for example, the stepping stones should be laid so that they are comfortable and easy to walk on. Laying stones of the same size in a straight line or lengthwise in the line of the path is considered very boring (Sadler, 21). Furthermore, walking through the rôji is supposed to smooth the progress of the guests' transition from the world outside to the world of tea, and "from the mundane to the ritual personae" (Anderson, 156). The teahouse represents an oasis of calm for guests, an understated respite away from the maddening crowds. Once inside the teahouse, guests should feel cleansed of weariness and reconnect with themselves spiritually. Often, the rôji is divided into two by a middle gate, separating it into the inner and outer rôji. This middle gate functions as a symbolic passageway into a deeper state of consciousness (Keane, 72). This entire experience through the rôji transcends time and space.

The word rôji is believed to have been adopted from a verse in the Lotus Sutra, "Escaping from the fire-stricken habitations of the Three Phenomenal Worlds they take their seats on the dewy ground" (Sadler, 19). "To the Japanese, the idea of a 'dewy' path evokes a feeling of purity derived from the Shintô tradition of sprinkling uchimizu (holy water). For this reason, the inner rôji is always dampened before a tea gathering" (Anderson, 155). A cool, mossy, and moist feel in the rôji is highly desired, as water is a symbol of purity. The rôji is often laden with such symbolism despite its apparent simplicity. For example, the path through the rôji is always angled and meandering, symbolizing that the path to enlightenment is never straight.ⁱMatsu (pine) trees planted in the garden are symbols of longevity, while take (bamboo) represents strength and resilience. A group of three stones may imply the divine presence of three Buddhas, while a vertical arrangement of rocks is an abstract depiction of a waterfall. However, it is considered extremely inapt to have too many special stones, dry waterfalls and lanterns, and outrageously stunning displays of nature are deemed to be out of place. In general, designers of a tea garden try to keep the symbolism restrained. (Anderson, 155-156).

"Rikyû liked his rôji to suggest a mountain path after the rain, and used pebbles to get this effect. He preferred pine-trees and bamboos and the eleagnus pungens, while [Furuta] Oribe has a liking for firs, since he liked the somber dignity of these ancient trees at Sojo-ga-dani" (Sadler, 20). Different tea masters have different styles and preferences for the types of trees and plants they employ in their rôji. There are no fixed rules to adhere to, and as mentioned above, nature brings forth artistic inspiration. Therefore, in his rôji, Oribe was inclined towards having abundant scenery and being showy yet elegant in his shrub choices near the tsukubai and the stepping stones next to the machiai (waiting bench) (Hayashiya, 170). However, there are certain guidelines as to which types of trees are acceptable and appropriate, and which are unsuitable.

To vary the effect and prevent monotony deciduous trees such as the different varieties of Maple and Oak, Willow, Mimosa, Melia Japonica, etc. may be planted, but a Tea-garden must never be without evergreens, and the Pine, Cypress, Cryptomeria, Ilex, Palmyra Palm, Tararix Chinensis, Viburnum, Aucuba, Fatsia Japonica, Cercidiphyllum and Japonica, and Aegle Sepiaria with firs and bamboos are the most suitable. Bright-coloured trees such as the Wistria, Clove, Pyrus Spectabilis, Camellia, Tea tree, Magnolia, Cucumber and Orange are out of place in a Rôji.

(Sadler, 27)

Tsukubai

The act of washing one's hands and rinsing one's mouth at the tsukubai (crouching basin) symbolizes the purification of mind and soul before entering the chashitsu. This is very similar to the act of purification prior to entering Shintô shrines, and the guest is refreshed before he enters the teahouse, as if he has cleansed himself of the dust of the world (Sadler, 25). The appropriate size and height of the tsukubai is determined by the various characteristics present in the rôji, and it is usually situated low on the ground instead of at hip level. This design forces guests to crouch when using it, indirectly humbling themselves (Sadler, 29). It is also desirable for the water in the tsukubai to overflow and make the surrounding area wet, because this creates a visual effect of dewiness and cleanliness. A stone lantern is usually found behind the tsukubai to illuminate it at dawn and dusk (Sadler, 31).ⁱⁱ

The stones around the tsukubai may appear to be insignificant and purely decorative, but in fact they each have a special purpose. A bowl of warm water would be placed in winter on the yuoke-ishi (hot-water-bucket stone). The tea master would put a portable lantern during night gatherings on the teshoku-ishi (candlestick stone), and the mae-ishi ­(front stone) is the stone which guests would crouch on to use the tsukubai (Keane, 82). Also among these stones, one would notice scattered pieces of broken roof. These are symbolic reminders to the guests of the Buddhist belief that material things are impermanent (Anderson, 154).

Machiai

After the guests have finished cleansing at the tsukubai, they will proceed to the machiai (waiting bench) to wait for the rest of the group as well as for the host. The goal of making the guests wait on a simple bench with perhaps just a roof overhead is to allow them time to relax and attune themselves to the peacefulness of their surroundings, settle their thoughts, and commune with the garden. Afterwards, the tea master would appear to greet his guests, and then return to the chashitsu to sound a gong. This is a signal for the guests to enter the tearoom. The sounds of the gong which usher in guests are reminiscent of temple bells resonating from deep in the Japanese mountains (Sato, 23-24).

Chashitsu

A novice might, upon entering the chashitsu, be surprised by the ostensible simplicity of the structure. This small and intimate area consists of two parts, the actual tearoom and the mizuya (tea master's preparation room). The wabi teahouses are spartan, enclosed by thatched roofs and clay walls, and furnished with inexpensive materials such as cedar, bamboo, paulownia, and pine. One is reminded of the minimalist design of a classic Buddhist abode (Anderson, 161). The materials used may be common and simple, but symbolism and meaningful intricacies are subtly weaved into the design of the chashitsu. Nuances like a naturally bent pillar, simple mud walls and exposed support beams result in a truly harmonious (wa) and tranquil (jaku) space for guests to enjoy cha-no-yu (PMA, 3). The various features of the teahouse are to be appreciated for their own individual beauty, and should not be judged or compared with other objects. In the following paragraphs, the intricacies of these various aspects of the teahouse will be explored and discussed.

Chiriana (leaves pit)

Next to the entrance of the teahouse on the outside, one will find a small hole in the ground lined with roof tiles or stones - this is the chiriana (also known as the dust pit). Originally, the chiriana was used for the temporary disposal of garden debris such as fallen leaves. Its function has since evolved into something highly ritualized, and it assumes several symbolic meanings. For example, just before a tea ceremony, the tea master would cut an evergreen branch and placed it in the chiriana, together with a few dry leaves and a pair of twig-picking chopsticks. The chopsticks are used to remove extraneous debris from the garden. This signifies that the host has carefully prepared for the guests' arrival, and that the house and garden have been properly cleaned. "The evergreen boughs in the dust pit indicate the host's careful preparations" (Keane, 82).

The humble chiriana is also a "symbolic receptacle" in which guests should cast their troubles before they enter the teahouse, such that their mundane preoccupations dissipate, and they may subsequently properly immerse themselves in the tranquility of the teahouse.

Katanakake (sword rack)

Rikyû designed the katanakake to encourage the samuraito leave their swords outside (Anderson, 157). This reinforced the idea of wa (harmony) that everyone who entered the tearoom was equal. However, given the hierarchical nature of Japanese society even today, the notion of temporarily relinquishing one's status symbols was extremely radical in the early Muromachi to Edô period. The katanakake thus never fully succeeded in achieving its noble aim of equalizing teahouse guests, as ancient Japanese remained class-conscious even within the sanctum of the teahouse. Important guests wiggled in first, and verbal communication among guests was in strict accordance with social status.

Nijiriguchi

A small square entrance (nijiriguchi) forces the guests to bow when going into the tearoom. It is a gateway into the special realm of cha-no-yu, separating it from the tea garden and the tumultuous world outside (Kumakura, 52).This guests' entrance into the chashitsu is designed to be very low, only about one and half feet tall, and forces the guests to bend over and crawl into the room. Such a design instills a sense of humility and wa in guests who can then better appreciate the relative spaciousness of the tearoom and the delicate balance of status and social interaction between the various guests. The host may also deliberately wipe the door with water before a tea ceremony to suggest a sense of purity (Anderson, 157).

However, the effects of this were somewhat negated when latter-day tea masters added a kininguchi (noble's door)for aristocrats to enter without having to wiggle and crawl in. This preclusion of entering the tearoom in a kneeling position was yet another obvious consequence of the strict social order during the Momoyama and Edo periods (Anderson, 157).

Ceiling

The ceiling of the chashitsu is also designed with an intricate subtlety. Take for example the tearoom at Shôfûsô (The Japanese House and Garden in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia), the area directly above the tea master's mat is flat and made with thin interwoven shingles, while the part above the main guests' mat is inclined and reinforced decoratively with bamboo. This interior design is believed to firstly help designate the areas where the guests and host should sit, and secondly mitigate the claustrophobic feeling that such a small space might otherwise create (Nishi, 107).

In some tearooms, the guests' mats may also be located under a higher ceiling made of exquisite materials, while the tea master would sit under a lower, more rustic area (Anderson, 163). The purpose of this differentiation is so that the guests will not be envious and distracted by the tea master's position in the room.

Walls

The walls of the teahouse are finished with plain earth, and simple tree trunks are used in their most natural state as pillars and support beams. Rare woods that draw unnecessary attention are deemed very unsuitable. The color of the walls is also purposefully chosen to reflect the wabi principles of rusticity. The goal in constructing the teahouse walls is to skillfully combine elements that are casual-looking and not strange to create a relaxing, tranquil environment (Keane, 75).

But building a wall is not as simple as undiscerningly using any available log; only logs whose shape or color expresses a subtle beauty will be considered. "Even the plain slats of wood used for the ceiling were cut from knotless lumber with a straight grain" (Keane, 75). Fundamentally the thing to consider when building the walls is how to carefully select and make the best use of the available woods and materials (Sadler, 9). Skillfully combining and matching various types of wood can create an unlimited number of visual effects within the chashitsu. "The variety of materials [used for the teahouse], all in their natural state, made for extreme diversification of texture and left little chance for dull uniformity" (Hayashiya, 175). The atmosphere in the chashitsu can fluctuate dramatically between pretentiousness and tranquility depending on the combination of woods used. Hence, one has to be sensitive when specifically designing a wabi atmosphere.

Windows

In ordinary Japanese household architecture, a feeling of openness and airiness is normally achieved by incorporating full-length sliding screens known as shôji. However, such openness is not possible in the small tearoom, and thus it is important for windows to be positioned strategically to simultaneously achieve optimal light, ventilation and visual effect (Nishi, 108). The chashitsu should not be too bright or dark inside, because too much glare affects concentration while a dark room produces an aura of gloom and melancholy, which is worse. The position of the sun must be taken into serious consideration when adjusting the overhung shutters so as to obtain a happy equilibrium in the room (Sadler, 10).

Tokonoma

The tokonoma is the most important part of a Japanese tatami (straw mat) room. The minute size of the chashitsu is visually alleviated to a small extent by the tokonoma (Nishi, 106). Usually, the most important person (of the highest social status) among the guests present will sit next to the tokonoma unless the host specifically assigns the seating arrangement owing to special occasions like birthdays etc.

A suitable scroll is hung for the occasion at the tokonoma, accompanied by a chabana (flower arrangement). Guests bow to the scroll upon entering the chashitsu because it is a representation of the physical presence of the author. Having calligraphy in the chashitsu is very relevant because of the transience of applying ink on paper. Once the author pens the strokes, he can no longer change them. This idea of ichi go, ichi e (one moment and one chance) in calligraphy is likened to the same principles in the tea ceremony, where tea masters regard each tea gathering as a unique experience to commune with his guests. To understand the fundamental concept of ichi go, ichi e, it is necessary to imagine that each gathering will only occur once in a lifetime. To cherish and celebrate each fleeting moment with utter sincerity is the basis of cha-no-yu (Murai, 29).

In the teahouse at Shôfûsô, instead of an actual decorative alcove, a wooden section of the floor is demarcated by a sodekabe (thin curtain wall) and flanked by a naka-bashira (center post). This design is perfect for the four-and-a-half chashitsu, because "it manages to suggest an alcove space while the curtain wall is thin enough to avoid altering the lines of the windows and low entry door" (Nishi, 117). The naka-bashira still has its bark intact and the reddish patterns on the trunk serves as yet another beautiful visual focus for the room (Fischer, 4). The central post and the extended sodekabe further functions to isolate the tea master's tatami from the guests' tatami mats to avoid ambiguity.

Tatami

The lengths of the tatami in the chashitsu are covered with one-and-a-half inches thick strips of plain black fabric, in contrast to the elaborate cloths one might typically find in residences belonging to wealthy individuals. This is because the sôan is modeled after traditional farmhouses and in keeping with the wabi ideals of simplicity and rusticity, a plain black fabric is more fitting than a fancy, patterned one.

In addition to the number of tatami mats, tearooms are also classified according to the position of the rô (hearth) set in the tatami.ⁱⁱⁱ There are eight basic variations in the layout of the chashitsu, namely the four-and-a-half mat, the daime (three quarters of a mat), the murogiri (opposite hearth), and the sumigiri (corner hearth), each in normal or reverse styles. Tea masters have also adopted innumerable modifications to these basic layouts, but regrettably, complications arose because it became challenging for tea masters to have to assume different positions (in relation to the guests) depending on the site of the rô. As a result, these interesting variations became undesirable sources of distraction and contention between host and guests.

Mizuya

The mizuya (literally "water chamber") is where the tea master would prepare the utensils he needs for the tea ceremony, and this area is usually out of sight and separate from the main chashitsu. Similar to the chashitsu, there are many different styles of mizuya, limited only by the guidelines of traditional models of various tea schools and the imagination of the designers. The most common form however is a simple one-mat area with a three or four feet long by two feet wide wooden recess. There is also a bamboo sink for washing the utensils, and pegs above for hanging the ladles and tea handkerchiefs. On top of this setup, one may find a couple of shelves about seven or eight inches wide for displaying the utensils that the tea master will be using (Sadler, 25).

As illustrated above, the intricate architecture of the Japanese teahouse and its accompanying garden landscape relentlessly strives to be in agreement with the four guiding principles of "wa, kei, sei, jaku"and the wabi concept of rustic simplicity. It is important to note that these ideals only serve as guidelines, and that the major concern of cha-no-yu is fundamentally the appropriate arrangement and display of the various aspects of the chashitsu and rôji according to the occasion and people involved. The visual effects that tea masters endeavor to achieve within this small area are those of seemingly effortless elegance yet deliberate symbolism. For guests who enter this serene environment, it is almost as if they have entered a completely different realm where worldly problems and worries are to be forgotten and their minds are transformed to be in communion with nature and with cha-no-yu.

Works Cited

Anderson, Jennifer L. An introduction to Japanese Tea Ritual. State University of New York Press. 153-163.

Fischer, Felice. "Masterpieces in Context: A Teahouse for Philadelphia." Lecture given in May 1993 at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Hayashiya Tatsusaburo, Nakamura Masao and Hayashiya Seizo. Japanese Arts and the Tea Ceremony. New York and Tokyo: Weatherhill/Heibonsha, 1974. 124-145, 167-177.

Keane, Marc P. Japanese Garden Design. Tokyo and Vermont: Tuttle Publishing, 2004.

Kumakura, Isao. "Sen no Rikyû: Inquiries into his life and tea." Tea in Japan - Essays on the History of Chanoyu. Chapter 2. Varley, Paul and Kumakura, Isao, ed. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1995. 33-69.

Murai, Yasuhiko. "The Development of Chanoyu: Before Rikyû." Tea in Japan - Essays on the History of Chanoyu. Chapter 1. Varley, Paul and Kumakura, Isao, ed. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1995. 3-32.

Nishi, Kazuo and Hozumi, Kazuo. What is Japanese Architecture?. Tokyo, New York and San Francisco: Kodansha International Ltd, 1983. 106-119.

Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA). "Ceremonial Teahouse: Sunkaraku ("Evanescent Joys")."

Sato, Shoko and Ogura Sato, Alice. Tea Ceremony - Asian arts & crafts for creative kids. Boston, Tokyo and Vermont: Tuttle Publishing, 2005. 21-28.

Sadler, A.L. Cha-no-yu - The Japanese Tea Ceremony. Rutland, Vermont and Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle Co., 1962. 1-43.

Notes

i In some tea gardens, one may find a stone tied with a piece of black string. This is known as the sekimori ishi. It is usually located near the intersection of two paths and is used to block the entrance to one of them. Upon seeing this, the guests will know that they should not follow the path that is blocked. It is symbolic of the tea master's thoughtfulness in guiding and showing his guests the "right" way, much like assisting them in their journey to enlightenment.

ii For a detailed explanation of the various stone lanterns, please refer to Sadler's book, pages 35-42.

iii "The rim [of the rô] is usually of chestnut or mulberry wood or it may be of persimmon, keyaki, cherry, or even pine. Plain wood is used in the summer and lacquered in the winter" (Sadler, 14).