As you approach Japanese shrines, the first thing you see is a simple structure of two vertical pillars and a crossbeam. These are torii—the most recognizable architectural symbol of Japan.
They do not create an enclosed space, do not fence it off, and do not compete with the landscape; instead, they become part of the composition. Torii signal that a place is sacred.
Torii vary greatly in form: from small rural gates under two meters tall to massive structures reaching 34 meters. Made of wood, bronze, stone, or concrete, they interact with a wide range of natural elements—dense forests, ocean waves, misty lakes, icy mountain peaks, rice fields, or bustling cities. This is their essence: torii exist in countless contexts without changing their meaning.
There is still debate about who created torii and when. Their origins run deep in history, yet these gates continue to appear—among forests and cities, along coastlines and at the foot of mountains. Materials and surroundings change, but the essential idea remains: the boundary between the ordinary and the sacred.
A striking example of the importance of form over material can be found in Ise, home to Japan’s most important Shinto shrine dedicated to the deity Amaterasu. According to legend, thousands of years ago, the goddess herself revealed to Princess Yamato-hime-no-mikoto the place where the shrine should be built.
Over the centuries, the shrine has preserved its antiquity and simplicity in a way that differs from the European understanding of architectural preservation. In Europe, the original material is restored. In Japan, preserving form and ritual is what matters—therefore, every 20 years, the main buildings of the Ise Shrine are completely rebuilt.
This is the second post in our Japan series. Discover the first one as well.