ENG
Sunny Hills (completed in 2013) can be hardly called a building. At least in its conventional meaning. A building is suppose to have walls and windows. Sunny Hills does not have neither of them. The building appears as a mass of fresh wooden sticks with no clear beginning, with no clear end, with no clear perimeter. This wooden filter represent a thick, porous and soft transition that smoothly meditates inside and outside of the building. The absence of any clear boundary between indoor and outdoor space is a typical feature of Japanese traditional architecture, in this case re-proposed by Kengo Kuma in a new and bold way.
Sunny Hills (completed in 2013) can be hardly called a building. At least in its conventional meaning. A building is suppose to have walls and windows. Sunny Hills does not have neither of them. The building appears as a mass of fresh wooden sticks with no clear beginning, with no clear end, with no clear perimeter. This wooden filter represent a thick, porous and soft transition that smoothly meditates inside and outside of the building. The absence of any clear boundary between indoor and outdoor space is a typical feature of Japanese traditional architecture, in this case re-proposed by Kengo Kuma in a new and bold way.
Apparently, the slightly tilted pattern of the fids provides a light sense of instability. Is it a symbolic gesture to remind us that the state of art of anything (including architecture) is in continuous progress and never set permanent?
The whole structure appears as a light construction. The tiny metal “legs” supporting each wooden bar (and thus warding them from the ground floor in order to preserve the delicate natural material from the humidity) further help the image of the building to seem weightless.
From the overall view to the smallest joints and details the building has been crafted with a great diligence. By @NovozhilovaM