Some notes on Heian architecture and its effects on everyday life
I thought I'd add a couple of notes on architecture and palace layout. Sources and bibliography available on request, but be aware that I essentially majored in this sort of thing and therefore decided not to start reccing Japanese architecture books without anyone asking because I would be totally unable to stop.
Basically, not only were there no structural/non-movable exterior walls, but there were no non-movable interior walls either; the roof was held up by (ornately decorated and sometimes very large) wooden pillars, and all interior passages and rooms were created by the shifting of screens. This had several practical effects on the way people lived. For one thing, the screens which served as walls did not reach all the way to the roof, because they would then be difficult to move, even though they were lightweight for their size (being made of paper). One simply had to pretend not to hear anything that drifted over the partition. This may be one reason it was so fashionable for ladies to speak quietly.
In addition, the imperial palace had, in essence, an infinite number of rooms. If one was moving into palace apartments, one was told how much floor space one was allowed to take up-- they measured the floor area by tatami, the same way modern Japanese do-- and then one's servants literally built one's room in a position that was equivalent to one's rank. There was a lot of moving about, because in the spring and summer the higher-ranking ladies and officials migrated outward to the edges of the buildings to get better views of the gardens, and in the fall and winter they pulled further in where it was warmer. The whole constellation revolved around the emperor, who perambulated according to the best place for the season and also according to religious taboos and security measures (in the building in which the emperor actually slept in the Kyoto palace, which I went to a few years back, there's an area of nightingale floor which squeaked whenever it was walked on, and the emperor always slept with that between himself and the outside world-- but where he actually slept varied). When the emperor processed, i.e. formally made a move from place to place as opposed to casual visits, visits to women etc., a small army of servants would precede him moving all the screens so that he would simply have a hallway in front of him in whichever direction he happened to be walking; if you lived along that line, you had to get out of the way, but you were generally given warning of the emperor processing well in advance.
Lighting was also not as we would think of it. Daylight came in at all edges of a building, of course, but did not penetrate very far through the various layers of screens, and of course fire was a continuous concern given the large quantities of wood, straw, and paper, so candles, while used, were usually in lantern form or otherwise protected and did not give as much light as could be wanted. Open flames were right out-- nowhere for the smoke to go and too much of a hazard, so no firepits. In general braziers were the best option, large metal or pottery containers holding slowly burning charcoal and incense. The kotatsu had not yet come in as there were no floor pits for it. There were also oil lamps, but these were quite expensive and also hazardous. Therefore, it's fairly likely that The Tale of Genji was written in the subdued and flickering light of shrouded lanterns and a low brazier, even if it was written in broad daylight in the middle of summer-- since there would be a screen between the lady and the garden, which might not admit sufficient natural light. The fashion of ladies blackening their teeth came in because the white flash of their smiles was thought to be disconcerting and unaesthetic when seen suddenly in a dim room.
The layers of intermediaries, the screens around women, and the passing of messages so punctiliously become more explicable with the realization that persons at court had no privacy at all unless it was created by these artificial barriers. Others could always hear you, see you in silhouette, smell the incense you burned in your brazier; a small army of servants had to be present at all times to shift the walls and carry the baggage (intricately carved and ornamented chests and boxes survive in great numbers from the court). There's been some discussion earlier in the community of the lady whom Genji finds with her door open: this lady did not *have* a door, as we understand it. It was the job of her servants, if ordered to do so, to close off her possessions and futon in the night such that persons she did not wish present would not have access. If she did, indeed, leave her chambers open to the rest of the palace at night, and was not literally behind walls in all directions, it was a sign of wanting public and possibly anonymous sex. It is possible, however, that the lady's servants were negligent and left a gap that they did not notice (for the lady was of a rank to have several chambers with hallways, and it could be difficult to make sure those were all blind alleys), or that one of the lady's servants was expecting a liaison and had left the space for that purpose. So Genji is actually within his rights to assume that these chambers are public and that therefore the lady is public, but the real question as regards her consent is whether she knew her chambers were open. (In addition, a gentleman wandering into this sort of circumstance, where the lady expresses genuine surprise and distress, is supposed to allow himself to be contented with one of the maidservants, but Genji = Skank Too Cool To Sleep With The Help.)
This is also one reason there was a taboo against complete nudity: too many people around who might see something at the wrong time. They had sex in kimono and hakama, and sponge-bathed in overrobes draped around the shoulders. Layers and layers of clothing are another means of privacy.
Hope this was useful. I shall try to get into garden teahouses later; that's a whole other kettle of fish.
Basically, not only were there no structural/non-movable exterior walls, but there were no non-movable interior walls either; the roof was held up by (ornately decorated and sometimes very large) wooden pillars, and all interior passages and rooms were created by the shifting of screens. This had several practical effects on the way people lived. For one thing, the screens which served as walls did not reach all the way to the roof, because they would then be difficult to move, even though they were lightweight for their size (being made of paper). One simply had to pretend not to hear anything that drifted over the partition. This may be one reason it was so fashionable for ladies to speak quietly.
In addition, the imperial palace had, in essence, an infinite number of rooms. If one was moving into palace apartments, one was told how much floor space one was allowed to take up-- they measured the floor area by tatami, the same way modern Japanese do-- and then one's servants literally built one's room in a position that was equivalent to one's rank. There was a lot of moving about, because in the spring and summer the higher-ranking ladies and officials migrated outward to the edges of the buildings to get better views of the gardens, and in the fall and winter they pulled further in where it was warmer. The whole constellation revolved around the emperor, who perambulated according to the best place for the season and also according to religious taboos and security measures (in the building in which the emperor actually slept in the Kyoto palace, which I went to a few years back, there's an area of nightingale floor which squeaked whenever it was walked on, and the emperor always slept with that between himself and the outside world-- but where he actually slept varied). When the emperor processed, i.e. formally made a move from place to place as opposed to casual visits, visits to women etc., a small army of servants would precede him moving all the screens so that he would simply have a hallway in front of him in whichever direction he happened to be walking; if you lived along that line, you had to get out of the way, but you were generally given warning of the emperor processing well in advance.
Lighting was also not as we would think of it. Daylight came in at all edges of a building, of course, but did not penetrate very far through the various layers of screens, and of course fire was a continuous concern given the large quantities of wood, straw, and paper, so candles, while used, were usually in lantern form or otherwise protected and did not give as much light as could be wanted. Open flames were right out-- nowhere for the smoke to go and too much of a hazard, so no firepits. In general braziers were the best option, large metal or pottery containers holding slowly burning charcoal and incense. The kotatsu had not yet come in as there were no floor pits for it. There were also oil lamps, but these were quite expensive and also hazardous. Therefore, it's fairly likely that The Tale of Genji was written in the subdued and flickering light of shrouded lanterns and a low brazier, even if it was written in broad daylight in the middle of summer-- since there would be a screen between the lady and the garden, which might not admit sufficient natural light. The fashion of ladies blackening their teeth came in because the white flash of their smiles was thought to be disconcerting and unaesthetic when seen suddenly in a dim room.
The layers of intermediaries, the screens around women, and the passing of messages so punctiliously become more explicable with the realization that persons at court had no privacy at all unless it was created by these artificial barriers. Others could always hear you, see you in silhouette, smell the incense you burned in your brazier; a small army of servants had to be present at all times to shift the walls and carry the baggage (intricately carved and ornamented chests and boxes survive in great numbers from the court). There's been some discussion earlier in the community of the lady whom Genji finds with her door open: this lady did not *have* a door, as we understand it. It was the job of her servants, if ordered to do so, to close off her possessions and futon in the night such that persons she did not wish present would not have access. If she did, indeed, leave her chambers open to the rest of the palace at night, and was not literally behind walls in all directions, it was a sign of wanting public and possibly anonymous sex. It is possible, however, that the lady's servants were negligent and left a gap that they did not notice (for the lady was of a rank to have several chambers with hallways, and it could be difficult to make sure those were all blind alleys), or that one of the lady's servants was expecting a liaison and had left the space for that purpose. So Genji is actually within his rights to assume that these chambers are public and that therefore the lady is public, but the real question as regards her consent is whether she knew her chambers were open. (In addition, a gentleman wandering into this sort of circumstance, where the lady expresses genuine surprise and distress, is supposed to allow himself to be contented with one of the maidservants, but Genji = Skank Too Cool To Sleep With The Help.)
This is also one reason there was a taboo against complete nudity: too many people around who might see something at the wrong time. They had sex in kimono and hakama, and sponge-bathed in overrobes draped around the shoulders. Layers and layers of clothing are another means of privacy.
Hope this was useful. I shall try to get into garden teahouses later; that's a whole other kettle of fish.