Imagine wandering through the ancient streets of Kyoto, only to discover a 100-year-old townhouse reborn as a luxurious escape that honors its storied past—now, isn't that the kind of transformation that sparks your curiosity about blending tradition with today's comforts?
But here's where it gets intriguing: Japanese design firm Studio Aluc has masterfully converted a historic machiya—a traditional Japanese townhouse—into Nazuna Kyoto Higashihonganji, a short-stay hotel that's all about regenerative design. This isn't just any renovation; it's a thoughtful nod to the building's rich history, ensuring that its essence isn't lost in the process. Located right in front of the grand Higashi Honganji Temple in the heart of Kyoto, this 600-square-meter property spans seven inviting guest rooms, plus a shared dining space and a cozy lounge on the ground floor, making it perfect for those seeking an authentic yet modern retreat.
Studio Aluc, led by founders Jun Kameda and Hirona Sasaki, chose to embrace much of the original architecture, showcasing the exposed timber framework, earthen walls, and exterior roofboards. In their words, they 'deliberately retained traces of past craftsmanship, treating them not as flaws but as elements that reveal the quiet beauty and narrative depth of the building.' For beginners diving into Japanese design, this means appreciating how imperfections in the wood or walls tell a story of time and human hands, rather than hiding them away—a principle that adds a layer of soul to the space.
Drawing inspiration from the classic ryokan, which is like a traditional Japanese inn offering a serene, homestyle experience, the firm introduced signature elements such as sliding doors made from delicate washi paper, cozy futon bedding, and tatami-mat flooring. These are blended with natural materials like wooden furniture, clay walls, and handcrafted paper light fixtures, all contributing to a soft, earthy color palette that feels grounding and timeless. And this is the part most people miss— the studio's embrace of the 'beauty of shadows,' a cherished Japanese aesthetic that plays with how natural light dances through spaces to create depth and calm. Think earthen walls, shoji screens, and wooden lattices working together to cast gentle shadows, fostering a peaceful vibe that's hard to find in our fast-paced world.
A standout feature is the bathing areas, which take center stage in each guest room. Downstairs suites boast open-air bathtubs pressed from stone, while upstairs rooms feature spa-like tubs made from aromatic hinoki cypress wood— a material prized for its natural scent and durability. But here's the clever twist that challenges conventional home design: The founders integrated the living and bathing spaces into a seamless, open area. While many modern Japanese homes keep bathrooms separate for privacy, here the bedroom flows directly into the bath, crafting a unique sense of freedom and escape from daily routines. It's a bold choice that reimagines intimacy in indoor spaces, but is it a step forward or a potential disruption to comfort?
The communal zones shine too, with Studio Aluc knocking down walls and weaving in tiny tsuboniwa courtyard gardens—those pint-sized Japanese gardens that bring a touch of nature indoors. Framed by large glass panels, these courtyards invite sunlight to flood the dining and lounge areas, transforming enclosed traditional machiya interiors into open, airy havens. Sasaki and Kameda explain it beautifully: 'Although modest in scale, the presence of these courtyards—designed by contemporary landscape artists—subtly signals that the architecture exists in harmony with nature.' For those new to this, it's like bringing the tranquil Kyoto gardens right into your living experience, reminding us how architecture can connect us to the environment.
Studio Aluc's project has earned a spot in the running for this year's Dezeen Awards in the hotel and short-stay interior category, competing against gems like LRNCE's restoration of a riad in Marrakesh and Dimore's makeover of the La Dolce Vita Orient Express in Italy. Capturing it all is photographer Kenta Hasegawa, whose images likely highlight the delicate interplay of old and new.
And this is where controversy might brew: In an era where historic buildings are often bulldozed for flashy new developments, does this regenerative approach truly honor the past, or is it just a trendy way to repackage tradition? Some might argue it's innovative, while others could see it as risking authenticity for tourist appeal. What do you think—should we always prioritize preserving every 'flaw' in old structures, or is there room for modern tweaks to make them more accessible? Share your thoughts in the comments; I'd love to hear differing opinions on balancing heritage with contemporary needs!
