Kyoto was Japan’s political and cultural capital for more than a millennium before the dawn of the modern era. Until about the fifteenth century, it was also among the world’s largest cities and, as the eastern terminus of the Silk Road, it was a place where the political, artistic, and religious currents of Asia coalesced and flourished. Despite these and many other traits that make Kyoto a place of both Japanese and world historical significance, the physical appearance of the premodern city remains largely unknown. Through a synthesis of textual, pictorial, and archeological sources, this work attempts to shed light on Kyoto’s premodern urban landscape with the aim of opening up new ways of thinking about key aspects of premodern Japanese history.
The book begins with an examination of Kyoto’s highly idealized urban plan (adapted from Chinese models in the eighth century) and the reasons behind its eventual failure. The formation of the suburbs of Kamigyō and Shimogyō is compared to the creation of large exurban temple-palace complexes by retired emperors from the late eleventh century. Each, it is argued, was a material manifestation of the advancement of privatized power that inspired a medieval discourse aimed at excluding “outsiders.” By examining this discourse, a case is made that medieval power holders, despite growing autonomy, continued to see the emperor and classical state system as the ultimate sources of political legitimacy. This sentiment was shared by the leaders of the Ashikaga shogunate, who established their headquarters in Kyoto in 1336. The narrative examines how these warrior leaders interacted with the capital’s urban landscape, revealing a surprising degree of deference to classical building protocols and urban codes. Remaining chapters look at the dramatic changes that took place during the Age of Warring States (1467–1580s) and Kyoto’s postwar revitalization under the leadership of Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Nobunaga’s construction of Nijō Castle in 1569 transformed Kyoto’s fundamental character and, as Japan’s first castle town, it set an example soon replicated throughout the archipelago. In closing, the book explores how Hideyoshi—like so many before him, yet with much greater zeal—used monumentalism to co-opt and leverage the authority of Kyoto’s traditional institutions.
Richly illustrated with original maps and diagrams, Kyoto is a panoramic examination of space and architecture spanning eight centuries. It narrates a history of Japan’s premodern capital relevant to the fields of institutional history, material culture, art and architectural history, religion, and urban planning. Students and scholars of Japan will be introduced to new ways of thinking about old historical problems while readers interested in the cities and architecture of East Asia and beyond will benefit from a novel approach that synthesizes a wide variety of sources.
Matthew Stavros is a historian of Japan at the University of Sydney and former director of the Kyoto Consortium for Japanese Studies. He is the author of Kyoto: An Urban History of Japan's Premodern Capital (University of Hawai'i Press, 2014) and over a dozen articles on Kyoto’s architectural and urban history. His research focuses primarily on the material culture of premodern Japan and eastern Asia, with particular interest in cities, buildings, and monuments. He trained in architectural and urban history at Kyoto University and read history at Princeton University where he earned a PhD. He teaches modern and classical Japanese language, Japanese history and historiography, and more broadly on the histories and cultures of East Asia and Southeast Asia.
A tour de force of research on, and interpretation of, a place, a time and a culture that is almost incomprehensible to us now, all put together in a mesmerizing account of one of the world's greatest cities, and one of my home towns, before it became the Kyoto we know now.
One great thing about this World of Genji research project is that it’s getting me to read all sorts of books I wouldn’t normally pick up, such as this history of Kyoto city. The Tale of Genji is set during the height of the Heian period in Heian-Kyo (premodern Kyoto). Since the World of Shining Prince mentioned that nature and the environment of Genji was a “vital force” in the novel, I decided to find out more about Heian-Kyo.
Kyoto: An Urban History of Japan’s Premodern Capital starts off by taking a look at the ideal of Heian-kyo. But that’s just the plan. Chapter two looks at the actual city that was built and chapter three looks at how the suburbs of Kamigyo and Shimogyo were formed. Chapter four looks at the “medieval discourse on capital exclusivity that conveys an impulse to insulate Kyoto from the growing influence of temples and warriors”, mostly by using its boundaries, which in turn led to the concept of “Rakuchu” and “Rakugai”. Chapter five looks at the Ashikaga shogunate, which was established in 1336 and the first and only shogunate to make its headquarters in Kyoto. Chapter six looks at the changes in Kyoto during the warring states period (1467 – 1680s) and finally, Chapter seven looks at Kyoto’s post-war reconstruction under Nobunaga and Hideyoshi. Since I’m most interested in the Heian period, which was from 749 to 1185, that was what I focused on. That said, since The Tale of Genji was written in the early 11th century and set in the past, I probably don’t need to read until the end of the Heian era. But any rate, I’ll be talking about what I learnt from the first four chapters for the rest of the review.
Heian-kyo was heavily inspired by China, and was in fact “the sixth Chinese-style city built in Japan in just over a century.” As such, “most scholars agree that the Japanese sought to mimic the majestic imperial cityscapes of Chang’an and Luoyang.” The city was planned in an urban grid style and divided into two halves (right and left), which were “considered discrete institutional units” with their own executive officers. What I found interesting was that even the size of the houses were decided in advance – while the city was planned in blocks called “machi” (120m or 40 jo in a side), only nobility of the third rank and higher were allowed to have one block. Noblemen of the fourth to fifth rank were given half a machi, those of the sixth rank and lower a quarter, and commoners were expected to live in something called a “henushi“, which is a 450m2 plot.
The government of that time was based on the ritsuryo codes, “which is a body of criminal (Ritsu) and administrative (ryo) codes adapted from Tang China in stages leading up to formal codification in the eighth century”. Because Heian-kyo was conceived as an “inert venue of Ritsuryo statecraft”, the architecture of the ruling elite was based on the ritual state shrines of Luoyang. This style, known as the shinden style, wasn’t really a great place to live in for medieval Japanese, but it was considered important for creating a ritualised form of statecraft based on the Ritsuryo codes. As such, everything “from clothing and gestures to architecture and interior decor (shitsurai) were meticulously prescribed”.
This is also why the Fujiwaras often built their palaces to resemble the imperial palace. Since they often married their daughters to the royal family and would end up being related to the emperor, they would often welcome the emperor’s “home” to the place where they were born. And because form and function were so closely tied, having their palaces built to resemble the Imperial Palace meant that the emperor could do his work there, thus allowing him to stay longer at the Fujiwaras.
Also, this left and right city thing (ukyo and sakyo) explains why there’s also a Minster of the Left and Minister of the Right, although the Minister of the Right is the deputy of the Minister of the Left. Something else to keep in mind while re-reading The Tale of Genji because these two ministers appeared very often.
Although the planners of Heian-kyo had a really nice goal in mind, that goal wasn’t realised. The planned city was never fully built, and an entry from a 959 literary memoir implies that by that time, the Western half of the city (ukyo) was derelict. In addition, the commoners didn’t really group together in their machi, but quite naturally grouped together with the people who lived on their street (in the opposite machi).
In addition, as the concept of ukyo and sakyo disappeared, the remaining city divided itself into Kamigyo (upper capital) and Shimogyo (lower capital). The elites gathered around Kamigyo, since the Yomei gate that they used to enter the city was there.
Another thing I learnt is that in the current tenet of real estate – location, location, location – was true back then. One reason why a former capital (Heijo) was abandoned was because Emperor Kanmu wanted to separate the state from the influence of Buddhism. And as a result, there were only two temples and shrines in Heian-kyo (Toji and Saiji), both of which were official state institutions. But because power is attractive, “the founding of Heian-kyo exerted a strong gravitational pull on religious institutions seeking to be close, geographically and politically, to the center of power”, leading them to set up shrines outside the city. That’s quite different from my impression of current day Kyoto, which is full of shrines and temples!
There is a lot of information in this book. I basically read it for the second time (well, the first four chapters at least) just to summarise what I learnt for this review. The style is pretty dry and academic, but it’s definitely something you’ll want to read if you’re really looking to understand the history of Kyoto and how space and architecture influenced the city.
I bought this as research for my work, but ended up thoroughly enjoying. I have done extensive translation and writing work related to Kyoto, so reading about the city's urban history put the modern cityscape into new perspective for me. You don't need an extensive knowledge to enjoy it, but for those who know little of Kyoto and Japanese history it may be a bit confusing. Very well researched. Apparently it was 20 years in the making.
People from the western world tend to see Kyoto through a pair of rose-colored glasses, as if it is a place that not only embodies the rich culture of the east, but also their fantasies of legends, Samurai, and matcha. Granted, Kyoto is a city full of history, with its hundreds of temples and shrines. However, any history is more than just one color. With this in mind, I was motivated to flip open this book to further understand Kyoto and its past.
The book focuses on the history of urban space in Kyoto, from city planning, styles of palaces, the waves of temple construction, to the utilization of castles. It perfectly tied the change of the urban space to the progression of the political and socioeconomic situation of the time. It's intriguing to know that the original Heinan-kyo was planned to be grid-like to imitate Changan, and how the plan was not fully realized, as the western part of Hainan gradually turned into farmland. The Shinden architecture style was developed with the birth of the capital. Its similarity to Chinese architecture, focus on symmetry, and use for rituals and banquets perfectly showcased the social status and wealth of aristocrats at the time. The transition to the Shoin style, which appeared about three hundred years later together with the emergence of the samurai class, reflects the social shift to practicality as well as the power flow to the warrior class. The development of Kyoto's temples in its outskirts is equally fascinating. With the prevalence of regent rulers like the Fujiwara family, the various benefits in tax and draft, and the heavy imports of Chinese culture, the construction of temples bloomed in three waves. First as the monks Saicho and Kukai sponsored by Emperor Kanmu's travelled back from China and founded their own sect of Buddhist sects, Tendai and Shingon. The second wave came when the Amida movement of Pure Land Buddhism gained interests from the Capital elite, as it "concerned with individual salvation at a time when many considered the world in a state of irrevocable spiritual decline." The third wave started in the mid-thirteen century. The flourish of Zen Buddhism among the warrior elites produced dozens of temples in the centers of city, though temples used to be banned when the city was first planned. The weakened imperial power was exhibited from the change within the capital landscape. Towards the end of Kyoto's years as the capital, castles were constructed in the city center. The defensive style of architecture is evident of the ruler's and the city dwellers' mentality - the struggle for stability.
I like how the book is able to identify the division of the urban space. Although the city was planned with the west and east part, it then shrank to only the Kamigyo and Shimogyo in the east, meaning the upper and lower capital. As time passes, Kyoto drifted further from its original ideal. With the turmoil of the Waring period, people referred to the capital where its imperial functions resided as "rakuchu", inside, versus "rakugai", outside. The sovereign perception of the capital border dictates the type of buildings and activities in the capital versus at the outskirt of the city, yet even this concept faded through the countless transitions of power, when the imperial palace eventually became unmaintained and the conflicts, whether with the Mongol or within the political groups, had made a city a castle town. Soon later, Kyoto was no longer the capital, as it did not recapture any of its glory of yesteryears.
But what is exactly its past glory? Its unrealized grand architectural ambitions, or its slow decline through the thousand years? It is indeed a city of history, but I don't see anything rosy. Rather, I see the scars from wars and the remnants from the fires that had repeatedly destroyed its wooden structures. I do appreciate visiting the world heritage sites. Though far from rosy, the relics manifest years of devastation the city had struggled its wane, reminding people that it should not be forgotten.