Gungendo

Heading for the dense forest that envelops the town's border, we step into the shadow of the minka. I can almost imagine the building bursting from the ground. The sharp pitch of the thatch-roof mushrooming an unimaginable weight of straw into the sky. The wide single-story structure is built mostly from wood, the exterior weathered and hardy. Miura-san tells us that the 260-year old building actually used to live somewhere else. Originally built in Hiroshima prefecture, the abandoned house was disassembled, transported piece-by-piece and reconstructed where we stood in Omori-cho, Shimane prefecture. The revitalized building is now used as an HQ extension for the Japanese lifestyle company, Gungendo. Miura-san, an employee at the company, explains that it’s where coworkers share lunch as well as an integral symbol for the company.

Fukko zōshin, meaning restore the old and create anew, is a guiding sentiment for Gungendo-founders, Tomi and Daikichi Matsuba. Spanning food, clothing and homegoods, the company creates artisan products utilizing materials and traditional production methods of their region. The company works with local flax and ramie farmers, mom and pop spinners and weavers to produce fabrics for their clothing. Foraged dye stuff and ingredients found in the surrounding mountains are incorporated into cosmetics and sundries. They’ve also played an integral role in energizing the townscape. Over the past 40 years, the duo has diligently worked reviving shuttered buildings for store fronts, guesthouses, and employee housing.

The town of Omori is nestled deep into the mountains of the sanin region of southwestern Honshu. Sanin, meaning “shady side of the mountains,” sits between the Chugoku mountains and the Sea of Japan. Encompassing the least populated prefectures in the country, the sanin has a distinct stillness, a stark contrast to the bustle of Japan’s better known metropolises. Here there are no high-speed trains. The automated chimes and dings of the city are not to be found. We drive up spindly mountain roads to reach Omori, a town with no train station or convenience stores. The historic facades of the townscape remain, wedged between a narrow valley of verdant forest. It’s hard to imagine that hundreds of years ago, it was a bustling silver mining town - supplying a third of Japan’s booming silver trade. As the mines ran dry in the 1920’s, the economy slowed and the population severely plummeted. Residents continued to exit the area throughout the 20th century, leaving the quiet countryside for life in larger cities.

Miura-san tells us that the population currently stands around 450 - a once dwindling number now slowly growing thanks to Gungendo. Over the past few decades, the company has attracted individuals and young families with work, housing and a philosophy of rural living, what they call “life with roots.” As we spend the morning with Miura-san, I observe that he really, in the least ironic way, lives the brand. His life and work seem to meld together, firmly planted in the town's community, land and history. We flip through the hyper-local newspaper he publishes with Gungendo where stories of the town and his own life are preserved and disseminated through the company’s network. He shares stories of foraging expeditions with his young family, cooking eel and fish caught in the nearby sea, new building projects in town (like a community pizza oven made from local clay) and spotlights of other local happenings. He regularly leads tours, guiding visitors like us through the town's historic and contemporary sites - conserving heritage through spoken narrative.

Walking through town, Miura-san guides us through some of the company's renovation projects - each space thoughtfully designed to modern comforts whilst camouflaging into the historic aesthetic. We stop into the cafe and flagship store, where sunlight floods into a greenhouse-like dining room. Warm wood lines the interiors, framing a view from our table into the interior courtyard of wild greenery and rusted metal sculpture. We pass by the town’s singular soda machine, a dime a dozen on the streets of Tokyo, that has been outfitted with a bespoke wooden casing. Hand-cut ornamentations obscure the bright red Coca-Cola signature, softening the presence of the machinery into the streetscape. We finish our tour at Takyo Abeke, their longest renovation to date.

Takyo Abeke is a Gungendo guesthouse and a beloved project for founder Tomi-san. The Edo-period building was once residence to the prominent Abeke samurai family and fell into deep disrepair by the 20th century. In 1988, the Matsuba’s purchased the home and spent over ten years living in and nursing the home back to life before opening the space as an inn. Tomi-san was steadfast in utilizing the home’s original building methods in restoration, incorporating the works of local artists and artisans and reimagining discarded local materials for use.

From the street, we step onto an iridescent path of tile bending through the entrance garden. Miura-san explains that the tiles are all by-products of regional ceramic roof tile production. At a closer glance, we observe the subtle striping of glaze runoff, shadows of the tiles once firing in the kiln. We pass through tranquil tatami rooms where futons fitted with softened washi fiber sheets overlook more green space. Hand-stitched pillows reusing a collage of deep blue textile scraps cushion floor seating. At the center of the home we reach the open kitchen, where the original kamado, wood burning stove, is still used to cook meals for guests everyday. Shelves of glass jars hold preserved local fruits and vegetables and a gallery of wood cooking tools hang above. Miura-san tells us about the massive kitchen table - a dense wood slab salvaged from the shuttered schoolhouse nearby. In the staircase, a striking black and white portrait of two young boys from the region hangs. The photographer, Yoshimi Ikemoto, hails from the neighboring prefecture of Tottori, a friend of Tomi-san and pupil of the iconic photographer Shoji Ueda.

As we spend more time at Abeke, it’s clear that the beauty of Gungendo’s eclectic aesthetic is in the beauty of Omori. Their design is truly a living, physical manifestation of the community, the places and people who made up the structure that now welcomed us. It is a hopeful thought that the space may be ever-changing. Undoubtedly, the company will remain intertwined within the landscape of Omori, growing symbiotically from past to future.

Words and photos by Ana Matsubara