Bring this scene home, share it as a gift, or license it for your project:
Bring this scene home, share it as a gift, or license it for your project:
Engatou: Decorative and Protective Roles of Pendant Tiles in Japanese Temples and Shrines
「台東区にて、炭黒の『龍』と鮮やかな銀杏の葉」
Upon wrapping up a business meeting in Tokyo, I crossed the street from my client’s office and stepped into the courtyard of Ryūkoku-ji Temple (龍谷寺) in Taito Ward, Tokyo.
Originally established in 1616, the temple was relocated to its current site in 1655. However, the original structure was severely damaged during the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923. The temple we see today was reconstructed after the earthquake—just one of many symbols of Tokyo’s history and resilience.
Adjacent to the temple grounds, I noticed a small pile of round eave-end roof pendant tiles, known as engatou (円瓦当). Each tile features a circular pendant inscribed with the kanji character “Ryū” (龍), the first character of the temple’s name.
Pendant tiles like these are a common feature on the eaves of roofs in Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples throughout Japan. Not only do they serve a decorative purpose by forming a symmetrical finish along the eaves, but they also provide functional protection by preventing rainwater from seeping between and under the roofing tiles and the roof sheathing.
What immediately caught my eye was the striking contrast between the charcoal-black engatou and the vibrant yellow ginkgo leaves scattered around them. Adding to the scene’s charm was the use of “seal script” for the kanji character imprinted on the tiles.
This style of writing, called tensho-tai (篆書体) in Japanese, is akin to a specialized font for kanji. It is widely used in Japan on banknotes, passports, and official seals (known as ginko-in, or bank hanko stamps). Tensho-tai’s elegance and historical significance make it a fitting choice for temple ornamentation.
As I admired the scene, I couldn’t help but wonder about the story behind these tiles. Were they spares, waiting to replace damaged ones? Were they broken, or perhaps removed during a renovation? Where are such tiles manufactured, and how expensive are they to produce? Why was tensho-tai chosen for the inscription, instead of one of the other scripts commonly used in Japan?
These unanswered questions have left me eager for a future visit. Perhaps next time, I’ll have the chance to speak with a monk or the temple’s groundskeeper to learn more about the history and craftsmanship behind these captivating tiles. It’s remarkable that, despite living in Japan for over 40 years and seeing these tiles on roofs everywhere I go, this is the first time I’ve looked at them up close and begun to wonder about their story. Reflecting on this, I can’t help but feel a small twinge of regret for not being more curious about them decades ago.
- Location: Ryūkoku-ji Temple, Taito-ku, Tokyo
- Timestamp: 14:03・2024/12/10
- Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
- ISO 3200 for 1/9 sec. at ƒ/8
- Classic Chrome film simulation
- Location: Ryūkoku-ji Temple, Taito-ku, Tokyo
- Timestamp: 14:08・2024/12/10
- Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
- ISO 1000 for 1/250 sec. at ƒ/8
- Classic Chrome film simulation
References:
Copyright Notice for All Images:
© 2011-2025 Pix4Japan. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized use for AI training is strictly prohibited.
Visit www.pix4japan.com to learn more.
No comments:
Post a Comment