The projects of Japanese architect Kengo Kuma, one of the greatest contemporary architects, show deep respect for nature and cultural diversity. He told us about them against the backdrop of two spectacular installations he created in Milan.
Japanese, born in 1954, Kengo Kuma builds buildings integrated with the nature and culture of their location all over the world. In Milan he created two temporary installations of great visual and emotional impact during the Design Week 2018: Enchanted forest in the Valextra showroom and Breath/ng as part of the Design in the age of experience exhibition by Dassault Systèmes at Superstudio più. With the latter large sculpture he wanted to address the problem of air pollution with the aim of inspiring designers around the world to embrace sustainable architecture. For the project he used a special textile material capable of neutralising pollution and acting as an air-purifying element.
Walking immersed in the scent of the cedar woods that fill the "enchanted forest" at Valextra — which will remain open for a year — is an intense sensory experience. There we met architect Kengo Kuma to talk about his unique approach to design, deeply rooted in contact with nature and culture, on the occasion of Milan Design Week.
The close relationship and integration between nature and the environment are defining features of your projects: is this a philosophy that comes from your Japanese culture and upbringing, or is it a personal attitude?
It's hard to pinpoint a single reason — it's a mix of several factors. Perhaps they lie in the way I grew up, in a small house from the 1930s, a modest house built by my grandfather, who used it at weekends. He had the hobby of farming, and the house was really very small: there were natural materials, handcrafted woodwork objects. Growing up in a house like that is very different from growing up in a modern one. My friends lived in contemporary houses with aluminium window frames; my house's style was very different — it was also close to a small forest. These small woods on the edges of inhabited areas are called "satoyama" in Japanese. I played there; there were small animals, and I could gather herbs and plants to eat. That kind of experience was formative for my personality and also for my way of designing. I can say that nature became part of my life in childhood.
Your architecture proposes a human-scale model — these are gentle buildings that relate to and integrate with the context and culture of a place, with what we call "genius loci": what is the secret to achieving harmony between landscape and built architecture?
My philosophy is to respect places. Japanese architects of my generation all tried, from Arata Isozaki onwards, to define their own style, and once that style was established they applied it in different places. It's a kind of branding that can be applied anywhere. I don't want to do what they did. For me, every place has a different culture, history and nature, and I believe that this uniqueness must be taken into account. It's far more stimulating. If I tried to copy myself by repeating the same thing, I would find it very boring. Harmony is born from this unique and different relationship with each place.
Is it possible in our post-industrial society to approach architecture using old or new materials but without concrete and steel?
Certainly. In the twentieth century concrete and steel were available everywhere, and it was possible to create buildings and cities quickly with these materials. Now we don't need to be in a hurry — we can find new technologies with which to build solid structures. Carbon fibre, for example, is seven times stronger than steel cable. We work with this type of technology often. We are dealing with a new situation: without using concrete and steel we can create functional buildings. We live in a fortunate era; I believe that the combination of design and technology can also make an enormous contribution to the world's environmental problems.
What is special and innovative about your project for the Victoria&Albert Museum in Dundee, Scotland, which is nearing completion and will open in September?
The location of this project is truly special. It sits on a river, and what we did was to integrate the river into the architecture by building it not on but in the river. Normally a building is treated as a kind of sculpture placed on a pedestal above the surrounding nature; we did the opposite — we placed the building in the water. From a technical standpoint it was not easy, but with the right materials we created a kind of artificial rock that integrates with the real rocks and touches the water.
Who are the mentors or masters who have influenced your way of thinking about architecture?
Frank Lloyd Wright was a mentor for me. He was deeply fond of Japanese culture and of architecture that unites material and spiritual aspects. In terms of details his architecture is very different from mine — he belongs to the nineteenth century — but his strength and his spirit have been a great inspiration.
Which of the buildings you have designed do you love most?
It's very hard to choose, but if I have to name one I would say it is the Bamboo wall house in Beijing, China, completed in 2002. This project represented a great challenge for my studio — it was my first in China, and the construction process proved difficult and complex. At the time, building techniques in the country were not very advanced, but I tried to create something new and I think I succeeded.
A dream for the future: what is the project you would most like to work on in the near future?
I would like to design a spiritual building. The installation for Valextra also has something spiritual to it, which people sense as they walk through the city and pause for a moment inside this enchanted forest.