Japanese Culture in New York - Chopsticks NY

“I created a huge roof that connects inside and outside,
instead of building walls.”

International architect Shigeru Ban has just completed a seven-year-long project, the Centre Pompidou-Metz, a satellite museum of the Centre Pompidou in Paris. At the helm of more than ten ongoing projects, he is literally running around the world. Just before the museum’s opening, the Harvard University faculty member dropped by New York and talked with Chopsticks NY.

Would you describe the concept of the Centre Pompidou-Metz?
First of all, it has been a trend to build museums that look like sculptures. Have you heard about the “Bilbao effect”? It refers to the fact that the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao drastically increased the number of tourist visits to the city. In hopes of this Bilbao effect, many unknown small towns in the world started planning to build museums with sculptural designs and use them strategically to draw attention. However, while such sculpture-like architecture looks visually distinguished, it is not user-oriented. Naturally, the people in the museum world and artists became unwilling to ask architects to build museums because the architects were just trying to create monuments that could not serve their actual function. A good example of this reaction is the Tate Modern in London: an old factory was renovated and transformed into the museum. Dia: Beacon was also made after renovating an old building. The people in the industry think that renovating old buildings and factories can create better spaces for exhibiting their art rather than appointing architects. It’s shameful from the architects’ point of view. So, for the Centre Pompidou-Metz, I aimed to design a museum that has an interesting architectural structure and, at the same time, facilitates functionality.

Also, I wanted to build a museum that reflects the identity of the city of Metz. Many buildings constructed nowadays have similar design wherever they are because they are basically built disregarding the characteristics of the locations. However, I wanted to realize something representing personality of Metz.

Another key aspect is the fact that modern art museums today are losing general public attendance. Contemporary art is getting more and more incomprehensible and uninteresting to people, and this alienates people from enjoying art and going to modern art museums. In other words, the gallery itself or the exhibition itself screens its audiences: those who understand art and those who don’t. But here I wanted to create a space that is more accessible to people, a space where everyone can gather. Since I designed the museum for the community of Metz, which funded the project, I did not intend to make the space geared toward only a certain type of people: art lovers. In a way, people don’t really have to enter the gallery. They can just drink tea there, for example. That’s the key concept of my design.

How did you realize this concept in your architectural design?
There are three 45-by-270-feet tubes piled up, and each tube faces different directions to view different monuments of the city. We placed huge glass windows at the ends of the tubes, which we call “picture windows,” to allow visitors to frame the monuments in Metz and enjoy them. For example, the top tube frames the most famous cathedral in the city. The next one looks toward the Central Station of Metz, which was constructed under the German occupation. By the way, the city of Metz has quite a tragic history because it’s located near the border of Germany. Every time war erupted, it was occupied by Germany. Therefore, both French and German styles of architectures coexist there, and the Central Station is one that has a great German influence. I consider the station to embody the city’s history. By framing the monuments, I tried to emphasize the personality and unique locality of the city.

Generally, an architect designs a building that has walls, but walls create the concept of inside and outside and separate the two spaces. But I thought if I made only a roof, it would be a formation of the building that has no boundary between inside and outside—inside is an extension of outside and, conversely, outside is an extension of inside. So, I created a façade with glass shutters that can be easily opened to remove the boundary between interior and exterior. Weather permitting, they can be left open so that people can move around without any restrictions. Think about a café, for example. People enjoy drinking coffee and tea under a canopy because it feels more comfortable than staying inside. In Japan, we have a porch called the “engawa,” which is not really interior but not exterior either, and this space really makes people relaxed. This is why I created a huge roof that connects inside and outside, instead of building walls.

Does the structure of the roof come from a Japanese bamboo basket?
No. The idea came from a Chinese bamboo hat. About ten years ago, I happened to find it at a folkcraft store in Paris. It’s a traditional hat made of woven bamboo, and oil paper is layered underneath the bamboo to make it waterproof and also dried grasses and leaves make another layer underneath to make it heatproof. I was surprised by the hat because it has a structure similar to that of an architectural roof, and this inspired me to make such a roof. Since then, I’ve been developing a type of roof based on this Chinese hat, and the roof of the Centre Pompidou Metz is one result of this focus.

Also, each woven motif is hexagonal, and the whole shape of the roof is also a hexagon. The hexagon is a symbol of France because the shape of the country looks like a hexagon. I intentionally used the shape to make the most of this symbolism, and then I arranged the three tube galleries, offices, and a round theater to form a hexagonal pattern. Then I covered those elements with a huge hexagonal roof, just like covering something with a handkerchief. As a handkerchief transforms its shape to fit over the things it covers, the roof also transforms its shape. If I say this, you might think the shape was made organically or randomly, but it is carefully arranged.

Your style is often summarized as “invisible structure.” What does that mean?
It might be easier to explain this with an example. I have developed a prefab housing system called “furniture house.” Unlike a standard building, which has pillars, walls, and a roof on top, in the furniture house there is neither wall nor pillar. There is no structure inside the house. What you can see are things like closets and bookshelves. Usually people think structure is structure and furniture is furniture, but they can share functions. Furniture can be strong enough to support roofs. It’s just not used in that way. As something non-architectural plays the role of structural support, the structure disappears. This is why it’s called “invisible structure.”

But the roof is important.
There are houses without walls, but there is no architecture without a roof.

That’s the ultimate minimal structure, isn’t it?
I often come up with an occasion to design a building at low cost. Even in such situations, I do not want to make a jerry-built house, but instead, I figure out the ways in which we can reduce materials. If we can use one thing for several functions, we can reduce materials. Or if we can reduce labor, we can keep the budget low. By assigning one thing to play multiple roles, we construct a building at low cost without sacrificing quality.

That can be applied to your mission to support disaster areas.
Yes.

Is Haiti the latest project in your disaster site relief work?
We are working on a project in L’Aquila, Italy, as well, which was devastated by earthquakes in April 2009. We are building a temporary concert hall there. L’Aquila is known as a town of music, and there are music schools and a philharmonic orchestra. Since all the concert halls were destroyed, there is no place where the musicians can play anymore.

Is disaster site relief your life’s work?
Yes. I do not call them natural disasters. They are not caused by nature but by humans. No one dies from an earthquake, but people die when buildings collapse. That’s the architect’s responsibility, even if the causality is indirect. But when people lose their houses and desperately need temporary housing facilities, there are no architects around the disaster site because they are busy designing buildings for the privileged classes. It gives me the same pleasure to design houses for the rich, to build temporary houses, and to see the residents’ smiles, but I enjoy most when I make something for people that makes them happy, since I’m not interested in becoming rich.

In this issue of Chopsticks NY, Japanese craftsmanship and technology are featured. Would you share your thoughts on Japanese craftsmanship, which has traditionally been handed down from one generation to the next in Japan?
What I think is great about Japan is that the society values people who sincerely dedicate themselves to one thing. For example, I just read a Japanese newspaper article featuring “the best shoeshiner in the world.” He is a shoeshiner at the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo with a 40-something-year-long career, and he claims to be the world’s best. It’s unusual in other countries to show respect for craftspeople, especially people like a cleaning person or a shoeshiner. In Japan, people respect such a person who focuses on one thing, keeps doing it for a long time and ultimately masters the way, regardless of the field the person is in. I think it’s wonderful, and that is why the culture of Japan’s craftsmanship will never die.

——– Interview by Noriko Komura

Shigeru Ban
Born in Tokyo. After graduating from high school, he moved to the United States to study architecture at Cooper Union. In 1985, he established his private practice, and since then he has constantly worked on worldwide projects and has been awarded numerous international honors for his achievements. He is known for his innovative work with paper, especially with recycled cardboard paper tubes to house disaster victims efficiently. His current projects include the Metal Shutter Houses in New York City and the Pompidou Centre in Metz, France. In addition, he enjoys teaching younger architects and currently teaches at Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design as a visiting professor.

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The Centre Pompidou-Metz
Mr. Ban’s latest project, the Centre Pompidou-Metz, has just been unveiled on May 10th . It is the first decentralized cultural institution, attempting to bring together multiple genres and eras of art.