The structure is a thin concrete shell, open to the elements, resting lightly on the hillside. Water trickles across the floor in droplets that gather, merge, and flow—an ever-changing part of Naito’s installation. The space has no columns, only two oval openings to the sky, creating a sense of both exposure and shelter.
Often described as the ultimate destination of an art pilgrimage, the museum demands a kind of ritual from its visitors. One must enter barefoot and follow strict rules: no talking, no phones, no photos, and not even pens—only pencils are permitted. Unlike the tightly controlled atmospheres of Ando’s museums on Naoshima, these restrictions act not to impose order but to heighten attention, guiding visitors to attune to the fragile, shifting conditions of light, air, water, and time.