I always wanted to have
our own house.
When I met John
he was the first
foreigner
I ever met in my life.
He was working for the
Associated Press.
He was a foreign
correspondent.
He was writing a lot
about Japan
and about China.
One day we heard
that an old farmhouse
was about to be
destroyed.
When we got there,
it's like being sent
by time machine
back to 18th century.
John and I fell in love
with this farmhouse
at the first sight.
Japanese farmhouses
are dark.
Gradually you
can start seeing.
I've never seen
crossbeams like that.
Wow, very spacious and
very high ceiling.
"Oh, this is great!",
I thought.
It's just instinct.
The aroma of this house
was beautiful.
Smell of the earth,
smell of the wood,
smell of the smoke,
a little bit.
I felt life,
very healthy life,
being led in that space.
I said: "We
should get this
farmhouse and
transport it to somewhere
and we can build
our own home."
Now, when I look at
these photographs,
definitely it's not
yesterday.
It's --
It's long ago.
In the beginning I said:
"Let's talk for two days
Japanese and
for two days English."
As we got exited
we always ended up
talking English.
This is an old AP office.
He started to work
here since 1959.
And he had little
mustache and
he always enjoyed
a good cigar.
He didn't know much
about the countryside
of Japan.
So I took him to Gifu
where my family is.
He became like a member
of our family
and he adopted me
as his son.
We got the house.
But no land.
So we looked, looked
and looked.
It was either too far
away
for him to commute
to AP office in Tokyo,
or too expensive.
We came up the hill.
We saw this view
of the ocean.
Breathtaking!
We must buy
this property.
Moving old farmhouse
to come Kamakura
was a big undertaking.
This long beam is about
50 feet long.
One piece of the wood.
As we come to the curve
we moved the wood
and we gradually,
gradually
came up here.
John was very popular
amongst not only
carpenters,
but everybody.
And he made the people
always laugh
within his limited
Japanese.
It was a very
exiting time.
You see the formation
of the roof beams
in this form
of prayer's hands.
In Buddhism
we pray like this.
When the roof
is completed
we celebrate.
And the whole idea is to
ask God to descend
on this new house to
protect the house,
family,
and always with salt
and saké
for the sake
of this happy
house: Kampai.
Everyone drinks.
Every day was
a happy occasion.
We completed the house
in June of 1967.
So 41 years we
have been living here.
Minka has a space
which is mysterious.
People come and
they don't leave.
We are close to nature
in Minka architecture,
I think.
Large post and beams.
And we feel secured.
I think,
this Minka brought him
a peace of mind
in a way that this is
his own home
and I'm here.
Before coming here
he was ready to go
to any part of the world
at any time when
AP head office says.
As the time went by,
I think,
that this Minka made
him stay in Tokyo office.
He settled here.
Can you see?
John loved the people
and the story,
stories about them.
So this is a perfect
place for
John to interview people.
Both private or public,
or whatever.
Hmm.
He always liked red wine.
Big bottle.
He consumed sometimes
many.
Many empty bottles.
Oh gosh.
It's a short poem wishing
the house
doesn't catch fire.
Good day of June,
1734.
When I did this -
John's Minka -
I was not thinking of
becoming an architect,
yet,
at that time.
Later,
I got clients for
this type
of architecture.
When I see really good
houses
and when I fall in love
with this Minka
I get this house
dismantled
and store
it in my storage
for someone
who might say,
"I need a Minka."
Over here
is my graveyard.
Not mine,
but Minka's graveyard,
for Minkas.
One day they
will turn into earth.
The world of wood
when they are standing
and when they are
standing
at the end as a house
and laying here
to be buried.
Like many things
there is always End
of Life
and they have just
about to finish it.
This is an important
photograph I took,
as I said the farewell
goodbye to John.
And I always thought
he was smiling at me.
But when I enlarged
this photo
and when I looked
at him very carfully
I could see in his eyes
something much deeper.
Every time I come here
to this room I greet him.
And I say,
"[speaking Japanese],
I'm here, back at home."