Okinawa Prefectural Museum and Art Museum
Walled in limestone like a Ryukyuan castle, holding both the kingdom's record and the systematic collection of postwar Okinawan art.
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Walled in limestone like a Ryukyuan castle, holding both the kingdom's record and the systematic collection of postwar Okinawan art.
A private museum on land reclaimed from a US base; its roof stair splits into six steps and twenty-three, for the 23rd of June.
A palace mixing Chinese and Japanese form into something Ryukyuan; burned in 1945, rebuilt, burned again in 2019, and now rising a third time.
The royal mausoleum, its stone roof carved to imitate wooden shingles - the first building in Okinawa designated National Treasure.
Shaped as a gate but never walked through - a structure built purely so the king could pray at it before leaving the castle.
The quarter where the kingdom gathered all its kilns; it escaped the war, and workshops still line the paved street.
A kiln found during construction was left in place and built around, shown underground beneath the galleries.
Part of a royal highway; 238 metres survived the war, walled in stone between great trees.
One of the few gentry houses to survive the war intact, its walls and windbreak trees complete against the typhoons.
Three different masonry techniques stand in one castle; Perry's expedition surveyed it and recorded their astonishment at the fit.
Terraced up a headland; excavation turned up Roman and Ottoman coins, reopening the question of how far its trade reached.
It holds Okinawa's oldest stone arch, and its walls curve continuously - almost no straight line anywhere.
A kilometre and a half of wall following the limestone terrain rather than correcting it, so the whole line undulates.
A sacred site with no building: two fallen rocks lean into a triangular passage, and the sacred island appears at its end.
Over 240,000 names cut into folding stone walls - carved without dividing by nationality, uniform, or side.
Built to work by wind rather than air-conditioning, with 56 shisa on its walls - each named by a citizen.
Red-tiled houses inside coral walls on sand lanes, kept by a charter the islanders wrote: do not sell, spoil, disturb or destroy - use it.
House plots are dug a metre below the lane to duck the typhoons - the whole village sunk into the ground.
Three centuries of planting windbreak trees around every house has left twenty thousand of them, roofing the lanes in green.
Yaeyama's everyday objects, including a sabani boat - built not with nails but sewn together.
Said to be shaped as a womb - the idea of returning to where one came from, built directly as architecture.
Plaster packed between the tiles to stop the typhoons lifting them - and that necessity produced the island's red-and-white roofs.
Markets and alleys descended from the postwar black market - unplanned, endlessly extended, and still trading.