The Gesture of Excavating Deeply
The first gesture of the project is not construction, but removal. On a slope of the island of Sagishima, an area of 30,000 square meters is excavated to extract the material needed for the construction of the load-bearing walls. This is not a foundation excavation, but a transformation of the ground into building material. The earth, extracted using the traditional technique of compressed plaster, is compacted in successive layers, forming walls 60 centimeters thick that stand as autonomous structural elements. This process produces no waste: every gram of soil extracted becomes part of the building’s body. The gesture of excavating is therefore not an act of destruction, but an act of material transformation.
Consequently, the structure is not a separate object from the place, but a prolongation of the landscape. The material is not transported from afar, nor is it produced in a factory: it is the place itself that reproduces itself in architectural form. This implies a radical discontinuity with the industrial model, where the material is extracted, transported, transformed, and then installed, with a high energy and logistical cost. Here, the cost is minimized: the energy is that of human gesture, the logistics are those of the site. The project not only saves resources, but reorganizes them in a closed cycle.
The Tension Between Duration and Ephemerality
The comparison is not between modern and traditional, but between two models of time. The NOT A HOTEL Setouchi village is designed to last at least thirty years. This duration is not a technical datum, but a design principle. The walls made of rammed earth, compacted using ancient methods, do not degrade quickly: on the contrary, over time, they consolidate, weather, and integrate with the landscape. The material does not age, it transforms. Time is not an enemy, but a companion in construction.
In this context, the contemporary residential model appears as a system of ephemerality. Modern buildings, constructed with industrial materials, are designed to be replaced within a decade. The life cycle is short, the replacement cost is high. The gesture of building is therefore an act of consumption, not of permanence. The contrast is not aesthetic, but functional: while industrial architecture is based on speed and replaceability, rammed earth architecture is based on slowness and resilience. Time is not a cost, but an investment.
The Invisible Manufacturing of the Place
The project is not an act of design, but an act of invisible manufacturing. It is not a work of art, but a system that operates silently. The walls are not decorated, they are not exposed: they are functional, integrated, mute. Their value lies not in visibility, but in the ability to contain. The gesture of compacting the earth is not an aesthetic gesture, but a gesture of material control. Each layer is an act of control: over resistance, permeability, and temperature.
At this point, the tension between the global production model and the local production model comes into play. The former is based on standardization, repetition, and speed. The latter is based on specificity, variation, and slowness. The Sagishima village is not a product, but a process. Its value lies not in the price, but in its ability to withstand time. This implies a transformation of the concept of value: it is no longer linked to rarity, but to duration. The code of belonging is no longer linked to the brand, but to the ability to resist.
The Systemic Cost of Permanence
The choice to build in rammed earth is not without cost. The cost is not monetary, but temporal and cultural. The project requires an investment of time, expertise, and attention. You cannot build in rammed earth with a mobile workshop: you need a master, a process, a community. The systemic cost is therefore the time required to train the skills, maintain the process, and ensure quality. Who pays this cost? Not the end customer, but the production system that has abandoned artisanal manufacturing.
The operational consequence is that the model of material permanence cannot be scaled. It cannot be mass-produced, because it requires local specificity, knowledge of the place, and the ability to manage time. The infrastructure cost is therefore the cost of specialization. Those who support this model are not the consumers, but the designers, the masters, and the clients who choose the quality of durability over the speed of replacement. The system is no longer oriented towards consumption, but towards resilience. The invisible manufacturing becomes the real engine of change.
Photo by Rebekah Blocker on Unsplash
The texts are autonomously processed by Artificial Intelligence models
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