INSIDE:OUTSIDE
Kanako Noda
I've always been fascinated by ambiguous spaces, where you can't quite distinguish the inside from the outside. Japanese traditional houses used to play with the possibilities of this ambiguity, remaining open to the outside in various way. Aristocratic mansions had rooms that stayed open and looked out onto gardens, allowing you to appreciate the beauty outside from within. The small huts of the poor were often open as well, as people didn't have the resources to enclose them completely. Though the border between the outside and inside was vague, people managed to keep their intimate lives inside and maintain their privacy.
In Japan, the line dividing inside from outside is more a psychological barrier than a physical separation. At times, just a drape is enough; privacy is implied. And, sometimes, that unreliable barrier works better than physically strong walls.
You can see this principle at work in Emakimono, the illustrated handscrolls in the 11th century. They show bird’s eye views of indoor scenes, usually taken from "Tale of Genji", where noblemen and ladies sit, talk, play music, read poems and conduct love affairs, all the while remaining separated by these evanescent screen. In this world, a wall is a barrier but not an obstacle: you may not see the other, but you feel her presence.
2010