Awaji Island

Away from the bustling streets of Osaka, an interlude of contemplation was on hand at Tadao Ando's Water Temple in Awaji. 

You walk through a narrow, walled-in pathway, following it's tight curve, the white-gravel path ramping up slightly as you go, expecting to enter the temple. 

Instead, it opens out to a vast, circular expanse and a lotus pond, split in the middle by a staircase leading down into the ground. The temple is a buried drum, it's roof top being the lotus pond. What a simple, yet effective concept, beautifully executed.  

Down below, you walk around the central circular shrine, a slit of natural light from above and floor lights showing the way in the dimness. A few elements in red break the exposed concrete scheme. 

The passage leads to rooms with shoji, sliding paper screens, and by some sleight of hand, the subterranean dimness opens out to unexpected gardens. Andoism, at every turn.

Awaji Yumbetai is a complex consisting of an international conference centre, supported by a hotel, restaurants, chapel, gardens and vast, landscaped grounds. 

Tadao Ando designed this complex on a hillside in Awaji, the epicentre of the devastating '95 earthquake. [As a double whammy, the hillside had also been eaten into for a huge landfill project in Osaka bay, across the sea]. 

The complex reconstructs the ravaged hillside, stepping down in terraces and ending at the sea. The approach road leads to a dramatic corner view of the hotel, standing tall in the empty precincts. In the distance, behind, a curious stepped form of concrete could be seen, almost like a two dimensional painting flattened on the hillside. 

Walking through the vast grounds, we would later find these were stepped flower terraces, small modules making up a form with a scale so massive, that is seemed occupy a large portion of the hillside. A curious play with visual elements, the three dimensional web of steps appeared flattened, like a cubist painting. Water gardens, with still and flowing water and plazas connect the terraces to the other activities in the complex. 

Popular for wedding celebrations, the chapel seems almost always in use. Adopting a different take on the slit back wall of the Church of Light in Tokyo, Ando uses the cruciform slit on the ceiling in this chapel. As a backdrop to the altar, a translucent white vertical screen has a cross of light beamed on it, mirroring the slit of light on the ceiling. The small chapel is free of any other elements, the crosses of light, natural and artificial, being the visual focus. 

The entry to the conference centre building is screened by a stone wall. The open space between the two has a garden - an unusual one. Instead of planting on the existing flat surface, the land is formed into a steep, dramatic slope, enclosing and defining the space. 

How much the vast grounds, with the network of terraces, gardens and plazas are actually used might be in question here. Other than our group of 30-odd architects lead on by the Ando-ed assurance of unfolding views and experiences at the next turn, there seemed to be no one exploring the grounds, although the restaurants and hotel had their fair share of people. 

A beautiful stark, and empty master work, exhibiting a wealth of visual ideas for those who wished to explore. Perhaps, coming generations will flock here like ours flocks to the zen gardens of the previous centuries. On the other hand, it might become a bleaker version of itself, visited now and again by the odd student of architecture on a good day.