An Art Deco manse filled with custom work by René Lalique, Max Ingrand, Henri Rapin, and Léon Blanchot—it’s the sort of lavish residence you’d expect to find in Paris or New York or perhaps Miami. But Tokyo? Tokyo indeed. Hidden away in the flush—and very modern—residential district of Shirokanedai, the house only reveals itself, miragelike, after a long walk down a tree-lined avenue. Completed in 1933 and largely unchanged in its current iteration as the Tokyo Metropolitan Teien Art Museum, it feels like a place out of time.
The prince and princess, circa 1925.
COURTESY OF THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN TEIEN ART MUSEUM
Max Ingrand masterminded the etched-glass doors set in bronze frames, which are surrounded by artist Léon Blanchot’s floral reliefs.
LUCA DE SANTISThe structure was just as improbable when it was first built for Prince Yasuhiko Asaka and his wife, Princess Nobuko Asaka, the daughter of Emperor Meiji. The home likely never would have existed if not for twin tragedies: a car accident that gravely injured the prince while he was studying at a French military institute in 1923, and the Great Kanto Earthquake, which severely damaged the couple’s original Tokyo home while the princess was in France tending to her husband. The prince eventually recovered, but before returning to Japan, the couple attended the famous 1925 Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes in Paris, where the burgeoning Art Deco movement captivated the stylish aristocrats.
The exterior of the house, designed by Yokichi Gondo, an employee of the Imperial Household Ministry who was sent abroad for a year to study European architecture.
COURTESY OF THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN TEIEN ART MUSEUMAlthough it was highly unusual for a female royal to travel for anything other than Japanese court rituals, Princess Nobuko embraced the West. She reveled in Parisian style, shopped and golfed enthusiastically, and also took art lessons from Léon Blanchot, a noted sculptor. After the couple returned to Tokyo, Blanchot likely helped recruit an all-star cast of French artists to create the decoration and interiors for their new home, turning it into a singular temple of period design in the Japanese capital.
The Sèvres porcelain fountain designed by Rapin and nicknamed the “Perfume Tower.”
COURTESY OF THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN TEIEN ART MUSEUM
Ingrand’s futuristic etched-glass doors.
COURTESY OF THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN TEIEN ART MUSEUMInside, there are almost too many captivating details to take in at once. In the salon, pendulous chandeliers created by René Lalique preside over the space like a pair of fantastical snowflakes. Turn the corner, and you’ll find two more Lalique showpieces— equally enormous, but fruit-themed—in the Great Dining Hall. Henri Rapin, who oversaw the interior design, painted the murals, designed the furniture, and created one of the masterpieces of his career for a small anteroom off the salon: a towering Sèvres porcelain fountain that stands gracefully in the center of the room. (When perfume was added to the elegant light-up volutes, the heat of the lamps reportedly sent cascades of pleasing scent wafting through the air.) Raymond Subes, known for his work on luxury ocean liners, created ornate metal lunettes to sit above intricate etched-glass, bronze-framed doors devised by Max Ingrand. Blanchot made his mark with the vast floral relief panels inset in the dining hall walls. Imperial Japanese craftsmen, meanwhile, perfected the interiors, creating sycamore columns topped with black lacquered capitals in the living room, intricate parquet floors, and plasterwork with ornate zigzagging details
A detail of Rapin’s murals in the salon.
COURTESY OF THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN TEIEN ART MUSEUM
The main bathroom, clad in French marble with a Japanese mosaic tile floor
COURTESY OF THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN TEIEN ART MUSEUMIt all could have come crashing down during the tumult of World War II, or after, when the palace served as a Prime Minister’s residence and a state guesthouse for a quarter of a century, or in the early 1980s, when it was turned into an art museum (a separate modern wing was added to hold exhibits). Instead, it was preserved and cataloged in meticulous Japanese fashion, waiting for the day when it would reclaim its royal splendor.
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