What do a Japanese calligrapher, a modernist Kitchener-Waterloo architect and a present-day German kitchen manufacturer all have in common?
Don't wait for the punch line, because this is no joke.
Actually, this is a story of contradictions: Bold and delicate, restrained yet playful, monochromatic but rich. Items that should repel like drops of oil in water blend instead and provide a happy ending for Noriko Maeda, a Tokyo-born calligrapher who lives in Waterloo most of the time.
"This house was built for me, I think," says Ms. Maeda playfully, knowing full well her split-level home was designed by architect Sherman Wright (1907-1996) for his own family during the postwar period. It's a woodsy West Coast, post-and-beam-and-glass composition, yet it speaks to traditional Japanese culture. A sheltered walkway to the front door provides transition, a large foyer holds many shoes, windows gather in lucky combinations of odd numbers and a gentle placement among tall trees provides Zen-like tranquillity.
Perhaps, like that other architect named Wright, this Waterloo Wright looked East for his architectural leitmotif. If so, it explains the ease with which Ms. Maeda freely adorns tall walls with her delicate yet strong craft; her calligraphy, in turn – with its limited palette of whites, blacks and greys – combine with the home's original patinaed panelling to make her 21st-century bulthaup kitchen possible.
Confused? Let's go back a little. Ms. Maeda and her husband have owned Mr. Wright's home since 1993. Ms. Maeda originally arrived in Canada with her two young daughters for a year of Japanese calligraphy and culture instruction while her husband stayed behind to run his graphic design business in Tokyo. The couple chose to stay for their love of golf, for the home – "Mother, this house is wonderful, we can see the moon everywhere," she remembers her 10-year-old saying – and because of their daughters' fascination with Halloween. Strange bedfellows to be sure, but like the rest of this story, they work.
One daughter grew up to be a Massachusetts Institute of Technology-trained architect, the other a graduate of Sotheby's Institute of Art. Both told their mother: "Don't change any concept of the house because it's not a mass-produced house … there are a lot of ideas, a lot of thinking, a lot of philosophy.
"You can change the gadgets, but don't change the philosophy."
So, she changed her home's biggest gadget: the kitchen. She called a well-regarded Italian manufacturer and a German one. The Italians didn't bother to show up, while Antje Bulthaup said: "I can be there next Monday." Needless to say, Ms. Bulthaup, granddaughter of the Germany-based company's founder and co-owner of the Toronto showroom on King Street East, got the job.
Of course, a kitchen is more than gadgets. It has its own philosophy and structured thinking. After all, it's the one area of the home that combines fire and water to allow for culinary creativity – and Ms. Maeda is very creative in the kitchen. Ms. Bulthaup discovered this during her fact-finding mission, which also included dinner: "So she knew my movements, how often I open the fridge or how often I used the knives, so after that night we discussed what I need."
First, she needed a different layout. While she didn't mind the small size of the galley kitchen, she did mind that it was used as a passage by her family. "This is my space, so it is prohibited to go through," she laughs, wagging a finger. The original counter under the big windows was removed and a new island with sink and cook top was designed to tuck farther in, creating space for the chef and a corridor for travellers. Cherry veneer on the island dialogues with the home's original panelling, the stainless steel countertop with the sleek architectural lines of the beams above.
Behind the island is a glossy, dove grey wall with shelves that change their contents with the seasons: "Red apples to green pears, it makes a big difference." Next to that, bulthaup's large, dark grey, floating cabinet holds the oven and microwave. Here, bold greys and bevelled metals mimic the precise, controlled strokes of the framed calligraphy on the walls, and just as "the difference between one hair size makes some difference in feeling" in calligraphy, so did millimetres make a difference to Ms. Bulthaup during construction; she ordered workers to start over when she found a measurement that was slightly off the mark.
Two years after construction, Ms. Maeda has no complaints. Rather, phrases like "handy" "flexible" and "well considered" come to her lips. It helps, of course, that Ms. Maeda understands the relationship between architecture, interior design and art – she is often commissioned to create calligraphy works for condominium projects both in southern Ontario and Japan – and that her architect daughter, Natsuki, created an amazingly minimalist deck just outside the breakfast area's sliding doors.
In an age when granite countertops and stainless steel appliances too often pass for a complete kitchen "design," a space that commands the same respect as the architecture and art that surrounds it is a refreshing change.
Now here's the punch line: "This is a big investment for my life," Ms. Maeda says.
Field guide
Another building by architect Sherman Wright (of Jenkins & Wright) is the curved, 1949 Weber Hardware building at 675 Queen St. S., Kitchener, Ont. While the windows have been altered considerably, it's worth a look. Jenkins & Wright are also responsible for the early 1950s site plan for Waterloo College along with some of its early buildings (Waterloo College became Wilfrid Laurier University in 1973).
Noriko Maeda's website, norikomaeda.com, has many examples of her calligraphy work. Look for notice of her January, 2012, show in bulthaup's Toronto showroom.
Information on bulthaup's b3 kitchens can be found at toronto.bulthaup.com