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The Value of Tiny Spaces – Three Lessons from Japan

Brand Strategist - Polly Akielan

Insights from
Polly Akielan

The Value of Tiny Spaces – Three Lessons from Japan

I’ve just returned from a three week trip to Japan – I know and I’m sorry. I found myself predominantly immersed in bowls of ramen but between very amateur film photography attempts and duo-lingoing my way through ordering a beer, I found myself thinking about the many tiny spaces I experienced that had a profound impact on my brain chemistry.

Glimpses of Green

The first thing I noticed was the pride taken in peoples’ very restricted front gardens – if you could even call them that. More often than not it was the strip of land between the external wall and the roadside. Usually 1-2 plant pots in width. I often winge that our house’s patio is more bin shed than it is green space but the lesson here, and often, is that I have absolutely no grounds for that. All over Kanazawa, Kyoto and Tokyo were examples of planting around front doors that would have been ignored here in the UK. From lovingly tended colourful displays that made me lurk in hopes of speaking to the nurturer, to a simple pot of bamboo or a glossy fatsia. These strips of greenery do several things; they remind us of the importance of nature in Japanese culture. They act as a transition from the very public street, to the private interior. Act as a home for Tanuki or good luck charms such as the ears of corn (kadomori) we saw hanging from doorways ushering in good health and prosperity. These glimpses of green were a reminder that there is always space for nature, if you’re willing to try.

Eight Seater Izakayas

In my very limited experience you can stumble into any restaurant in Japan and be fed extremely well. The ball and chain and I both come from hospitality backgrounds and we’re attuned to the struggles UK restaurants face to get GP from spaces, this often leads to maximising tables and considering how many four tops you need versus twos and counter seating to optimise revenue. So often the small eateries – izakayas (Japanese pubs) ramen bars or soba spots would have 8-10 seats, all arranged around a counter, chefs cooking in the middle. It’s less ‘how would a group of four like to eat?’ and more working with the natural space constraints thanks to flexible zoning allowing business to operate in the smallest units. The intimacy with the chefs was pretty magical – being handed sushi piece by piece and it was also functional – we came, we ate, we paid and left making way for those in the frequent queues outside.

Smoky Vinyl Bars

I’m not about to condone bringing back smoking in bars despite it being really quite atmospheric. I am about to endorse finding small units in shopping malls and on the fourth floor of seemingly an office block and setting up a bar. Specifically a bar with one bartender and walls covered in vinyl. In Osaka we found some where the speakers took up similar real estate to the punters and it was pure, immersive joy. Whether jazz, fusion, soul, disco or RnB is your thing, there’s a vinyl bar for that. These cosy spaces feel uniquely personal to the owner – their taste in music, in drinks and in one case, in customers. The ultimate act of curation, in these spaces the patron decides the mood with a careful look around the room before they cue the next record, you’re just along for the ride.

Photo credit: Tablelog - Stand Soba Sankaku Minami senba ten

Photo credit: Kisa Toyoshima via Time Out.

Final Thoughts

Each of these spaces serves a different purpose. Each a varying degree of forced and intentional. Whether they provide a gentle threshold, create quiet connection with others in cities that can feel deeply anonymous, or force curation to uphold aesthetic values, they left me with a discombobulating sense of longing as soon as I touched down at Heathrow.

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