Holden Sho Miles
I am an architectural
designer with over 12 years of experience in the field. I hold a Master’s of Architecture degree from Yale University and a Bachelor’s of Science in Architecture from the University of Virginia with a Minor in Architectural History.
On a corner off a small intersection in Mie,
Japan, and across from a humble rice field, stands the home of my maternal
grandparents. Using conventional materials and craftsmanship, the house is unremarkable
amongst traditional Japanese homes but delightful in its modesty and necessity.
When my grandfather helped construct this house, it was said to be the first in
the neighborhood. It was where my mother and her sisters were raised. It was
where my brother and I grew up during the summers we visited and where our
families would gather during these brief moments. Half the site is dwelling-
the remaining half the garden where I often found my grandfather watering the
vegetables early in the morning. I would watch him from a bay window in my
mother’s childhood room. The garden’s border is marked by tall pine shrubs that
shroud our enclosure from the road. Sometimes, just as the school bell chimes
in the distance, glimpses of enthusiastic school-children skim past the bushes
and render as dancing colors and youthful shrieks. In the evenings, my
grandmother hung laundry in the garden while my brother and I hunted for
cicadas. When my aunt was visiting, I made sure to present her with my prize,
taking delight in her horrified shrieks.
Successful architecture emphasizes the humanity
within spaces. There’s a misconception that programs alone obtain this
emotional and narrative significance- that there is a tight relationship
between how spaces are labeled and what happens within them. However, almost
every space can afford multiple activities, denoting a tenuous, rather than rigid,
relationship between space and program. It’s this tenuous choreographing of spatial
experiences by means of an aesthetic project that excites me about
architecture. Beautiful buildings, like my grandparents’ house, treat spaces as
settings for infinite ephemeral memories.