I have built architecture with wood and shadow as a theme. Trees need shadow. Trees generate shadow. Then animals gather under the shadow. They protect themselves from strong sunlight, ultraviolet rays and strong rain. Of the works of ours, from Asakusa Culture and Tourism Center to FRAC Besancon, and beyond to the new national stadium, our twin protagonists have always been wood and shadow, playing a role as mediator between humans and nature.
Let me explain why wooden buildings matter. My observation is that cities in the 20th century were completely covered with products of the industrialized society, represented by steel, concrete, and glass. However easily available, the quality of these materials was poor, especially in that they were too hard and cold for humans to touch, feel, and smell. Air and noise pollution are frequently identified as imminent threats for the urban environment, and that can in part be attributed to the use of industrial materials. The close and balanced relationship between human bodies and natural environment was lost in the process of forming modernized societies, which we find difficult to retrieve.
As for the relationships with materials, it could be said that concrete became widespread because it was best handled by companies or contractors large enough to handle systematic and efficient construction logistics. In other words, the 20th century was an era of giant organizations that developed cities with concrete buildings. That was true of Japan, too—the country has moved forward based on the structure of big enterprises versus small individuals for the last seventy years.
However, such pictures became totally invalid, as the country has gone through a number of great earthquakes and disasters. Already in 1923, the year of Great Kanto Earthquake, writer and poet Paul-Louis-Charles Claudel, who was serving as the French Ambassador to Japan at the time, wrote that Japanese people had been made aware of “God” by way of the shaking ground. We who reside on the land of Japan have experienced huge natural disasters since then, among them the Great Hanshin Earthquake (1995), the Great Eastern Japan Earthquake (2011), and Kumamoto Earthquake (2016), which have hit Japan almost in regular cycles. Each time, we are reminded that humans are after all “weak” beings who do not necessarily find safety in concrete and steel.
Now is the time to reconnect the relationship between human beings and nature, relying on trees. Trees go between people and natural environment in a method that cannot be carried out by other materials. In principle, wood is in the hands of a carpenter. A carpenter— an individual—carries pieces of wood by himself and combines them to build a structure. We call it a human-scaled, human-friendly building. Carpenters are neither artists nor members belonging to big organizations; but houses and buildings can still be built one after another. In Japan, society was operating this way in the pre-industrialized period. There were earthquakes and all sorts of natural disasters, but using wood as warm, light and soft mediator, people were living in harmony with nature.
Wood not only acts as an intermediary but also as a memory archive for people. In Japan, architecture in towns and villages that had existed before industrialization was mostly made of natural materials—wood, earth and washi paper—and they were also rich in texture and aroma. It can be said that the delicate smell generated by such materials connected people and nature as well. They absorbed various air and fragrances or essences from people’s lives, and the accumulation of smells formed a sense of nostalgia that allowed them to feel the passage of time.
What we are doing now is trying to revive wood in modern architecture. Similar attempts are being carried out in many parts of the world. It has been proven that wood can play a dual role as a mediator and as a shelter to interact and integrate with nature. Restoring wooden architecture in the current context will bring a great and positive impact on people’s lives worldwide. I believe that is the task assigned to all architects of our time.
Kengo Kuma (隈 研吾 Kuma Kengo, born 1954) is a Japanese architect and professor at the Graduate School of Architecture at the University of Tokyo. Frequently compared to contemporaries Shigeru Ban and Kazuyo Sejima, Kuma is also noted for his prolific writings. His seminal text Anti-Object: The Dissolution and Disintegration of Architecture written in 2008, calls for an architecture of relations, respecting its surroundings instead of dominating them. Kuma’s projects maintain a keen interest in the manipulation of light with nature through materiality.
Kuma’s stated goal is to recover the tradition of Japanese buildings and to reinterpret these traditions for the 21st century.