With its vibrant color scheme, labyrinthine layout, the alimentary architecture of Naoki Terada’s Stomach House both provokes and pleases.
“I’m a little bit twisted,” says 39-year-old Japanese designer Naoki Terada. He’s referring to his way of working with clients, but his comment could easily apply to his first architectural commission, “The Stomach House,” located an hour’s commute from Tokyo in Tokorozawa City. Visitors enter from a courtyard lined with Chinese fringe bush and wind their way through a series of interconnecting private and public spaces folded neatly into the body of the house like a digestive system — hence the rather visceral name.
The 2000 sq. ft home was commissioned by the architect’s brother-in-law Yoshitada Mikami, whose only request was that he wanted to live in one big room. “He liked to be able to see the other members of the family all the time,” recalls Terada, who makes a point of challenging clients’ preconceived ideas. “If the client says ‘No red’ then I design everything in red.” The string of smaller rooms, laid out in an S-shape, in part owe their form to the narrow streets of Tokyo. “If you walk down the small alleyways you’re drawn to the corner by the promise of what lays ahead,” says Terada.
Stomach House was designed, intriguingly, from the inside out. When it came to designing the exterior Terada felt that a conservative shape would appear “dishonest” in the context of the neighborhood dominated by traditional Japanese dwellings, so decided to continue the modern theme on the outside. Add to that the fact that the client’s family and ancestors had been living in Tokorozawa City for 300 years, and it would be an understatement to say that locals watched the construction with intense interest. Terada estimates that every single living relative came to scrutinize his work. “I thought somebody might register a complaint. I imagined they would be close-minded but they were very open,” he says.
The center of the Stomach House features a pool of water, built close in to the eaves. “If you go to Kyoto you will see the ponds like this in the center of palaces,” Terada explains, “the water reflects onto the ceiling inside the house.” The glossy green interior has been achieved by treating the floor, walls and ceiling with epoxy and urethane resin. “Most Japanese architects are very interested in the nature of their material, like exposed concrete or beautiful pine. I’m not like that. I’m interested in the finish rather than the material itself — whether it’s glossy or matte,” says Terada. Stomach House might look hyper-green in photographs but as the eye adjusts to the springtime hue the walls lose their intensity. Everything from the cutlery to the furniture was part of the commission, so Terada’s cheery pop sensibility reaches into every corner. “Air Chairs” by Jasper Morrison, “Spoon Stools” by Antonio Citterio and “Origo” tablewear by Alfredo Haberli make for an environment that promotes expressions of child-like frivolity.
Given its glossy splendor, Stomach House could well be the architectural equivalent of a petite, perfectly packaged Japanese cake: too beautiful to open. But as far as Terada is concerned, this cake is designed to be enjoyed on every level. “I visited last weekend and saw Lego and manga books and kids stuff everywhere,” he says, with an air of satisfaction. “I think it’s good. It completes the house.”
Words by Adam McCulloch. Originally published in Surface Magazine. The format has been altered to suit Tumblr.
