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."