Japan Navigator

The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, or Kinkakuji,at the foot of the hills that form Kyoto’s northern periphery, is Japan’s most famous piece of architecture. The gold that covers the two upper stories, also on the outside, is responsible for its popular appeal. Kinkakuji lies squarely on the tourist trail, and is an exotic natural for photographs. The best way to prove to the world that you have been in Kyoto is to have your picture taken with the Golden Pavilion as background. The only problem is, that the present pavilion appears to be a reconstruction from 1955. Why visit Kinkakuji? I have been there many times, although the last visit is more than ten years ago. It is a center of mass tourism rather than a quiet pilgrimage spot. But that is exactly my reason for going now. As a pilgrim, I have to learn humility: it is sheer arrogance to discard Kinkakuji only because it is popular. Moreover, the Golden Pavilion has been called the essence of beauty and isn’t beauty truth as well?

[Kinkakuji, seen from over the pond. Photo Ad Blankestijn]

The first view of the pavilion, from over the pond, indeed is beautiful: the placid lake, the three-storied villa standing on its far shore, the backdrop of Kinugasa Hill that changes its colors with the seasons. Hill and pavilion are reduplicated in the water. A gilt phoenix on top of the villa’s roof seems about to take off in flight. The scene embodies the very essence of beauty.

This point was taken up by Mishima Yukio in his novel The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, where a psychologically unstable young monk, who himself is ugly and stutters, is so overwhelmed by the pavilion’s beauty that he wants to destroy it. In the novel, the beauty of the Golden Pavilion is so great, that it becomes unbearable for someone who has no share of it.

{Kinkakuji, close-up. Photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Lost Pavilion
As a matter of fact, the Golden Pavilion was indeed destroyed by an unstable young monk, although the motive may have been different from Mishima’s clever embellishments. In July 1950 the original Golden Pavilion was torched and all that remained of it were blackened timbers and ashes. In a few minutes time the pavilion that for 550 years had floated gracefully above the pond was annihilated.

Therefore, the Golden Pavilion we see today is a reconstruction. The new pavilion was carefully and truthfully rebuilt in wood, and all that it lacks are the statues the old pavilion contained. The fact that there ever was a disastrous fire has been concealed and the new pavilion is even more beautiful than the original one - it certainly carries more gold foil.

To the Japanese, there is nothing strange about this golden phoenix rising from the ashes, but Westerners tend to think differently. In the West, a building stands for eternity. When it has been destroyed, there can be ruins left over, but nobody would seriously contemplate to rebuild Europe’s medieval castles. The result would be a fake.

In Japan that is not the case. Most of the historical temples in Kyoto including the Kiyomizu Temple were at some time in their long career destroyed and again rebuilt, often several times over. Other buildings such as the Grand Shrine of Ise are even intentionally rebuilt at regular intervals. Therefore in Japan, the new Golden Pavilion, finished in October 1955, is not an oddity at all.

[Kinkakuji, islands in the pond. Photo Ad Blankestijn]

From Pleasure Spot to Temple
The site of Kinkakuji Temple originally was the villa of a court noble named Saionji Kintsune, but it was greatly improved by its second owner, the third Ashikaga Shogun Yoshimitsu (1358-1408). Of course, it was not a temple then: it was an estate, the Kitayama Palace, containing various pleasure pavilions, where Yoshimitsu spent the latter part of his life in retirement.

He built the Golden Pavilion in 1394; at the same time, he had the garden laid out around the central pond that was used for boating. Boats can dock at the pavilion, so Yoshimitsu and his guests could easily shift between the coolness of the lake and the vistas of the pavilion. When Yoshimitsu died, in accordance with his will the estate was turned into a Buddhist temple under the name Rokuonji. Over the centuries, most buildings in the garden were destroyed and, miraculously, only the Golden Pavilion survived into the twentieth century.

After the rebuilding in 1955, a second restoration was carried out in 1986-88, when the gilding was renewed. Kinkakuji is always crowded, so I am prepared when I come to see this newly gilded pavilion. I know that the best view comes in the beginning, when the pavilion is seen over the lake, shedding its reflection on the waters.

Taking my stand at the lakeside, at first, I almost can not believe my eyes. Kinkakuji seems to sag under a thick coat of gold, like a cake that has been too heavily glazed. This load of gold, thicker than ever had been conceivable in Japan’s past, is too much for me.

[Kinkakuji, backside with place for boats to moor. Photo Ad Blankestijn]

A Hoard of Gold
The glittering surface directs the attention away from the real beauty of the pavilion: the elegant lines of its two roofs, the grace of its slender pillars, the illusion of its weightlessness. The new Kinkakuji has become a Disney-pavilion.

The precious hoard of gold on the pavilion’s walls and roof, has an unpleasant side effect too: stern guardsmen keep the tourists away from the vicinity of the pavilion and urge the hordes to keep moving. This is very different from the relaxed atmosphere in other temples in Japan, where you can wander at will. The fear that someone takes home a little bit of gold by scratching a finger over the yellow walls, evidently is keeping temple officials out of their sleep.

Was the original pavilion really coated in so much gold? Pictures of the original Kinkakuji, before the fire, are not much help since the gold had been worn away by the elements. It anyway seems wasteful to plaster gold on outside walls, where it deteriorates.

Normal custom of Yoshimitsu’s times was to put a thin layer of gold foil on screens or the inside of door panels. This also served the practical purpose of making the room brighter. It is extravagant to put the gold on the outside walls, and on the exposed parts of the rafters and beams. Now Yoshimitsu certainly was an extravagant man, so the original pavilion may have carried gold foil also on the outside, but I remain doubtful. I have not been able yet to find a definite answer to this gold enigma.

[Kinkakuji, where everyone becomes a photographer. Photo Ad Blankestijn]

Still standing near the entrance, I look at the waters of the pond, which are rippled by a light wind. Then the small waves fall still and there it is, a second pavilion, more mysterious than the first one, hauntingly floating beneath the surface. Here, the gold is not gaudy anymore, the glitter is muted and only seems to hint of some palace at the bottom of the pond…

Address: Kinkakuji-machi, Kita-ku, Kyoto-shi
Tel: 075-461-0013
Access: 5 min. on foot from the Kinkakuji-michi bus stop (buses 59, 101 and 205).
Advice: The buildings can not be entered. Due to the crowds, one has to keep on moving and is not allowed to turn back. The best view of Kinkakuji is after the entrance, seen from over the lake. Take your pictures here. Further in the grounds are a pavilion and a hall dedicated to Fudo Myo-o. Kinkakuji is at its photographic best after snowfall.