A series of stacked tree-like supports seem to abstract the nature in this Japanese chapel, bringing a small geometric forest inside this otherwise minimalist space to serve a contemporary congregation.

Designed by architects of Momoeda Yo, the square pillars were made using traditional Japanese woodworking methods. They stack on top of each other, forming different forest layers and growing smaller as they go up — a fractal-style repeating pattern.

The construction strategy not only supports a ceiling high above, but it also opens up more space for occupation down below. A series of thin, white-painted metal rods are used for structural stabilization (tension) while the wooden members work to hold things up (compression).

The side loads are carried by walls while the columns support roof loads of up to 25 tons. The whole architectural creation reads a bit like a structural drawing exercise, in which loads trace are downward and become larger as they join up and head toward the floor, much like the columns do in this case.

The designer says they were inspired in part by a combination of historic church styles and local traditions: “In nagasaki, there is the oldest wooden gothic chapel in japan known as ‘ohura-tenshudou’,’ he says ‘This chapel is not only a famous tourist point, but a place loved and cared for by the townsfolk. We tried to design the building as a new gothic style chapel, by using Japanese wooden system.”

People often play a small part in architectural photography and renderings – not so in this series of travel photographs, which would lovely but otherwise unremarkable without clever human inclusions.

Anna Devis and Daniel Rueda are a design-minded couple, one an illustrator and the other an architect. And they have taken their creative sensibilities on the road, filling in the implicit gaps in built environments across Europe.

The settings represent a range of architectural styles, often bold yet minimalist except for that added element of interactivity, sometimes using props or costumes to turn facades into theatrical sets.

In Denmark, Spain, Italy and other countries they visit, Devis and Rueda take that old idea of a person seeming to ‘tip’ the Leaning Tower of Pisa to new heights. Pixelated surface suddenly become other things, like clocks or canvasses, apparently manipulated by the duo.

That critical personal element that animates each scene also serves as a foil for showing off the patterns and colors of each context, subverting but also highlighting design details. In some cases, added manipulations warp their surroundings as well. For more on their work, follow the pair’s journeys via their Instagram accounts.

A renovated and expanded home in Maryland features no furniture, begging the question: what does it mean to be minimal and when does the philosophy go too far? Decorative clutter is one thing, but beds, tables and chairs are quite another.

A new tower and extension expand the current cabin, and as photos of the project show: it is a very open space. Often furniture is removed for architectural photography, but in this case it is not a trick of staging just to get nice and clean shots.

The place is a relatively spacious 1,200 square feet, maybe more than it needs considering its only furnishings are a movable dining table (diners sit on the floor) and a pair of roll-out sleeping mats. Where other furniture is required, islands and built-ins have been designed to serve the needs of the place. Sitting around the fire, apparently, involves sitting on the hardwood floors.

McInturff Architects remade the space at the request of the client, providing a staircase to access the newly expanded upper level and adhering to their request for maximum minimalism. White, black and wood form the material and color palette of the place, likewise minimalist.

The architects argue that by leaving uses undefined the program retains flexibility, but he results look rather bare without decor (or furniture). Of course, at the end of the day, it is always up to the client, but one has to wonder if they will find it all sufficient or seek to add more over time.

Tadao Ando’s work consists of more than just the tangible architectural materials making up each structure, masterfully utilizing reflection, simple palettes and negative space to incorporate wind, water and light into the carefully designed compositions. The self-taught yet Pritzker Prize-winning Japanese architect infuses these elements – most notably in the form of reflecting pools and ponds – into almost all of his creations, yet it always seems fresh, each structure standing firm in its own identity.

Water Temple, Awaji, Japan, 1991

Serving as the residence for the oldest sect of Tantric Buddhism in Japan, the Water Temple is considered one of Tadao Ando’s most striking achievements. An oval of concrete encloses a lake of lotus flowers, which are symbols of heaven, with a set of stairs leading to its reflective surface. The journey from the gravel path outside up to this pinnacle symbolizes successive places of initiation.

The Oval at Benesse Art Museum Naoshima, Japan, 2004

Says the architect of this space serving as a museum for the town of Naoshima and his own work, “In the ANDO MUSEUM, I nestled a concrete box within the old mink house. The box has a gently curved ceiling. One of its walls aligns with the main axis of the house and is tilted towards the ridge-beam to generate a feeling of openness that extends dynamically into the space above. Sunlight descends down through the deep space from a skylight opening at the top of the wooden roof. My aim was to create a space that conjures a rich sense of depth despite its small size, where oppositional elements such as the past and present, wood and concrete, and light and shadow clash intensely as they are superimposed against each other.”

Casa Monterrey, Mexico, 2011

Nestled into a hillside in Mexico, Casa Monterrey’s defining feature is the swimming pool that cantilevers out over the slope, punctuated with concrete walls that strategically frame views of the rocky Cumbres de Monterrey National Park. Designed to accommodate a family, the three-story house is built around a double-height library. A rooftop terrace provides gorgeous views of the landscape as well as that pool, which seems to extend the sky right into the yard.

Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, Texas, 2002

One of Ando’s most iconic structures, the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth incorporates Y-shaped concrete supports that are doubled by the 1.5-acre reflecting pool that comes right up to the building’s exterior walls. Five flat-roofed pavilions seem to rise up out of the water, constructed in a limited palette of simple materials that make the landscape and the art inside the main focus but still come together into an elegant whole. “By using glass as a wall, physically there is a barrier, protection from the outside, but visually there is no boundary between outside and inside,” says Ando. “There is also the light that comes off the water through the glass that indicates a lack of boundary an can make its presence felt on the wall.”

Church on the Water, Hokkaido, 1988

This classic Tadao Ando work faces seated congregants inside a minimalist church building so they’re gazing out at a cross in the middle of a pond. The church consists of two overlapping cubes, a steel-and-glass entrance structure and the main volume serving as the chapel. The glass wall overlooking the pond can be opened or closed depending on the weather. Unsurprisingly, Church on the Water is one of Japan’s most popular wedding destinations.

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Reflecting On A Master Architect 10 Water Centric Works By Tadao Ando

Tattoos are generally lauded for their intricacy and complexity, but these bold, beautiful and simple alternatives become artfully different thanks to a simple trick: the use of a single continuous line.

Made by Mo Ganji, a Berlin tattoo artist, each of these works (if you look closely) starts and ends at a single pair of points, no matter how they appear at first glance.

The zigs and zags required to make this approach work are what signal the viewer to make such a closer inspection in the first place.

Despite the simplicity and consistency of the method, the results are surprisingly varied, from very geometric shapes of human-made objects to organic curves of human and other natural forms.

In some cases, pointillist patterns are added to add texture, creating leaves, shadows or other details, but kept intentionally non-linear so as not to detract from the primary lone-line drawing. (via Colossal)