Traveling through Japan has continued to deepen my understanding of architecture as something far beyond buildings. A personal trip to Tottori and Shimane revealed how architecture can emerge from landscape and belief shaped not only by design, but by nature and ritual.
Through my visit to the Tottori Sand Dunes and Izumo Taisha, I experienced two contrasting yet connected conditions: one defined by natural forces, and the other by spiritual tradition.
Standing within the vast expanse of the Tottori Sand Dunes, it became difficult to distinguish where the landscape ends and the architecture begins.
The dunes, shaped by wind and time, create a constantly shifting environment, one that feels both monumental and ephemeral.
Walking across the terrain required effort and awareness. The instability of the sand altered movement, making each step intentional. In this way, the body becomes directly engaged with the “space,” much like moving through a designed environment.
What stood out most was the sense of scale. The openness of the dunes, contrasted with the distant horizon of the sea, created a spatial experience that felt immersive and almost architectural in its own right. There are no walls or defined boundaries, yet the landscape still frames movement, views, and perception.
This experience challenged my understanding of architecture as something constructed. Instead, it suggested that space can be formed through natural processes, where time and environment act as designers.
In contrast, Izumo Taisha offered an experience rooted in tradition, symbolism, and ritual. As one of Japan’s oldest and most significant Shinto shrines, the space is defined by a strong sense of order and spiritual presence.
Approaching the shrine, the transition from everyday environment to sacred ground is gradual but intentional. The path, framed by towering trees and marked by torii gates, creates a sequence that prepares visitors for entry. Each step feels ceremonial, reinforcing the importance of movement in experiencing space.
The architecture itself is both simple and powerful. The shrine’s form, constructed primarily of wood, emphasizes proportion, symmetry, and material honesty.
The massive shimenawa rope at the main hall becomes a focal point, symbolizing the boundary between the sacred and the human world.
Unlike the shifting nature of the dunes, Izumo Taisha conveys permanence and continuity. Yet, like many Shinto structures, it embodies cycles of renewal, reminding us that even sacred architecture is not static, but part of an ongoing process.
Experiencing these two places in a single trip revealed contrasting relationships between architecture, landscape, and meaning:
- Tottori Sand Dunes → space shaped by nature, movement, and time
- Izumo Taisha → space shaped by ritual, symbolism, and tradition
Together, they demonstrate that architecture is not limited to building form. It exists in the way we move through environments, the meanings we assign to them, and the experiences they create.
This trip reinforced an important realization:
Architecture can be both visible and invisible, constructed through materials or formed through landscape and ritual.
In Tottori and Izumo, I experienced how space can be shaped by forces beyond the architect by wind, by time, and by belief.
These moments continue to influence how I think about design, reminding me that architecture is not only something we create, but something we encounter.
Studying abroad has allowed me to engage with these ideas firsthand, experiencing how different environments and cultures shape the way architecture is understood and lived. Explore Temple Architecture Program in Japan to learn more about studying architecture abroad and experiencing design.