Figure 9 Detail showing the clean and careful chisel work of the decorative pendant (gegyo). (See also Fig. 201 and photo page 73.)
Introduction to the First Edition
In the very broadest terms, in this book I have attempted to provide a survey of the unique restoration work and new construction presently in progress at the 1,300-year-old Yakushiji temple in Nara, Japan. More specifically, my aim has been to chronicle the building of one new temple within that compound, the Picture Hall in the Sanzō-in subcompound. The entire project is being carried out under the direction of a remarkable eighty-year-old carpenter, Tsunekazu Nishioka. Part of a line of craftsmen extending back over a thousand years, Nishioka is one of the few master temple carpenters, or miya-daiku, remaining in Japan. Such miya-daiku specialize in the construction and repair of Shintō shrines and Buddhist temples, and in the case of Nishioka his attitude toward his work is deeply influenced by the philosophy of Buddhism. Without him, very likely this book would never have been undertaken, let alone the Yakushiji project itself.
The parameters of the book are shaped primarily by my personal observations of the Yakushiji reconstruction project over a three-year period from 1985 to the present, though my interest in temple architecture dates from the late 1970s when I was an undergraduate art student. This is not a history book, although history plays an important role; neither is it a “how-to” book, though I would be pleased if designers or carpenters found some inspiration in its descriptions and illustrations. It is an on the scenes account of a complex process of construction, reworked and digested for a lay audience. Since many readers, particularly those with a background in Western crafts or architecture, may be unfamiliar with the design, development, and atmosphere of Japanese temples, I will begin with a few general comments.
Temples of Buddhism
A Buddhist temple can be considered a physical model of the abstract philosophy of Buddhism. It is an architectural composition intended to provide a physical and sensual experience conducive to the mental and spiritual experience of the Buddhist faith, with virtually every element designed for both sensual and symbolic value. Admittedly, this relationship is by no means unique to Buddhist temples. Cathedrals, mosques, synagogues, Hindu temples, Stonehenge, Mayan pyramids, and the kivas of the American Southwest, for instance, are in each case both extraordinary physical experiences as well as models of a particular cosmology. The uniqueness of Buddhist temples, however, is a function of the way in which the development and spread of Buddhism throughout Asia engendered cumulative architectural change. Thus, one can find Buddhist temples that share the same underlying conceptual basis but are nonetheless distinctly Indian, Thai, Chinese, Korean, or Japanese in form and detail.
What then, one may ask, is a Japanese temple? Let me first state that it should be distinguished from a shrine, that is, a Shintō religious structure, although the two may often look quite similar. Second, Japanese temples are almost invariably made of wood, in contrast to Indian and certain Chinese varieties; and they usually, but not always, consist of more than one building, with major structures being considerably larger than the average house. They can be found in the middle of fields and in the mountains; on islands or hemmed in by skyscrapers; pristine or in ruins; gaudy or severe; deserted or thronged with tourists; and, perhaps lastly, contemporary in appearance or more or less ancient in form. And yet, despite this variety, some might agree with a casual acquaintance of mine who remarked, as our train passed through the outskirts of Nara, “You know, the thing about these temples is that they all look alike.”
Temples may look alike to some degree, but only to the extent that operas or sailboats or plates of pasta look alike. If one is looking for general similarities, they can be found in abundance. If one is alert to differences, there is an unfathomable richness of variety and refinement. It entirely depends on the eye of the observer.
Buddhist architecture came into being as a towerlike tomb in India called a stupa, which was built to enshrine the cremated remains of the historical Buddha, Gautama Shakyamuni, who is said to have lived in the sixth century BC. It set an important precedent. While the objects of worship were actually the relics hidden deep within, the tower itself became the visible object of devotion, a representation of the Buddha. Its structural configuration and decorations were designed to illustrate certain aspects of Buddhist belief, such as “upward development,” “the earth,” “the elements,” “cycles of being,” and others. Buddhist sculpture appeared shortly thereafter, strongly influenced by the arrival of Alexander the Great’s armies in the Gandara region (now in Pakistan) in the fourth century v. Craftsmen traveling with these armies introduced Hellenistic styles of figurative sculpture, particularly the standing pose, which seems to have been modified slightly and adopted in Buddhist images. The recorded teachings of the Buddha, known as sutras, were collected and copied in Sanskrit and Pali, the primary languages of the region, along with monastic rules and commentary. Thus, by about 100 BC, three primary means of dissemination of the Buddhist faith had arisen: architecture, fine art, and writing.
Buddhism spread to China in AD 64 by way of central Asia, with important schools being established in Tibet as a sort of midway point. Chinese civilization had already experienced centuries of a high level of development and boasted a sophisticated imperial and bureaucratic architecture. These existing forms were adapted for Buddhist use, usually through the inclusion of Buddhist images and decorative details derived from Indian prototypes. The “stacked umbrellas” which crowned the stupa evolved into the pagoda, a wooden or masonry tower with several roofs, and temple layouts were gradually standardized. Distinctively Chinese sculpture and painting appeared about the same time.
The Korean peninsula in the early centuries AD was divided into several rival kingdoms, all of which maintained varying degrees of contact with and dependence upon the central Chinese authority. One such kingdom, called Koguryo, accepted Buddhism in AD 372, followed by the Paekche kingdom in 384 and Silla in 528. Paekche introduced Buddhism to Japan in 538 (some scholars say 552), when it presented the Japanese ruler with a gilt-bronze statue and a scroll of sutras. The first Korean Buddhist temple carpenter crossed the strait to Japan in AD 577, thereby inaugurating the tradition of Japanese Buddhist architecture.
When thinking about the history and culture of Japan, one must always bear in mind its isolation from the Asian mainland and the unusual cultural relationships that this separation generated, particularly with respect to the Korean peninsula. The strait which divides Japan from the continent often proved a great barrier to migration and the dissemination of ideas, with the result that the technological development occurred at a different pace compared to the rest of Asia or to the Mediterranean basin. Nevertheless, several large waves of migration into Japan during the preliterate period resulted in striking technological leaps.
The inhabitants of Japan during the Paleolithic (Jomon) and Neolithic (Yayoi) periods built homes and other structures out of wood. Jomon people (1000–300 BC) knew only stone tools, did not use what we would consider wooden joints, and did not have much in the way of specialized architecture, although remains of some very large structures have been unearthed. The Yayoi period (300 BC–ad 300) is extremely interesting in that it began with stone technology but witnessed the rapid transition to metal tools introduced from Korea, bronze and iron appearing almost simultaneously. Rice agriculture was also introduced at the beginning of this period, and raised granaries and other building types which required better woodworking tools were built. Nevertheless, stone cutting tools continued to be used in some contexts in Japan until