Places that are later perceived as luxurious are usually based on a clear vision of how they should be used and experienced. Adrian Zecha, who laid the foundation for Amanpuri in Phuket, developed an understanding of hospitality that remains a benchmark to this day. His philosophy is rooted in the subtle, often understated design of space for experience, tranquility, and presence. With Azuma Farm Koiwai, which opened in April 2026 in Japan’s Iwate Prefecture, Zecha continues this idea—and at the same time returns to its origin.
Located at the foot of Mount Iwate, in a historic farmland landscape and embedded in a vast environment shaped by nature and agriculture, Azuma Farm Koiwai symbolizes a focus on the essential. The project was developed in collaboration between Azumi Japan and the East Japan Railway Company and is the first destination of the new Azuma Farm brand. The site itself looks back on more than 130 years of agricultural history: Koiwai Farm is one of Japan’s most significant historic farmlands; 21 of its buildings are designated as important national cultural properties. In this context, Azuma Farm Koiwai sees itself as a hotel in the Western sense—and at the same time as a place of stay in a broader understanding.

At its core is a concept oriented around farm life: an understanding of origin, working with materials, and time as an experiential dimension. Guests move through an environment where nature, craftsmanship, and daily life intertwine in a vibrant connection. Cuisine, activities, and spatial experience act as parts of a larger whole. This includes guided bike tours, horseback riding on the farm, regional excursions to lacquer art and sake production, as well as programs connecting with the craftsmanship and traditions of Northern Japan.


While architecture and landscape often visually intertwine, here they enter into a deliberately restrained relationship. The project was designed by Kyoto-based architect Shiro Miura, founder of Rokukaku-ya. The architecture references the historic cow sheds of Koiwai Farm, translating their agricultural typologies into a contemporary form. Deepened rooflines recall the structures of the original buildings, creating a quiet connection between past and present. The 24 villas are built from local materials, including approximately 100-year-old cypress and red pine from the surrounding area; in the Forest Villas, a central chestnut wood pillar from Iwate further anchors the space to the location.

The cuisine also follows this connection to landscape and origin. Under the direction of Chef Yoshitaka Oyama, a culinary language emerges that is shaped by French training but focuses on the products and seasons of Tohoku. Instead of a strictly traditional Japanese form, it is about precise, ingredient-focused cuisine that remains connected to local farmers and producers. For longer stays, Okibi, a small pavilion with a charcoal grill and U-shaped counter, complements this experience with a communal, fire-centric form of dining. Wellness offerings such as private bathing pavilions and, in the future, a natural hot spring, extend the stay with another dimension of tranquility and regeneration.


It is precisely here that the continuity with Zecha’s earlier work becomes apparent. What began as radical reduction at Aman is revisited here—but with an even stronger return to the origin of things and existence itself. Quality also arises from precision, and one could argue that what is later perceived as luxurious always stems from an inner clarity. Design and effect swap their hierarchy: abundance is replaced by a form of coherence that is hard to grasp but immediately palpable.
Azuma Farm Koiwai shows that the driving force behind what we later consume is often still the vision of an individual—a vision that serves the mandate of many. [Ed.]

