Japanese architect Taira Nishizawa is the creator of very fine buildings, including the magical Tomochi Forestry Hall in Kumamoto and the Sunpu Church in Shizuoka. His innovative timber structures are legendary, which is why he was invited to give lectures around New Zealand as part of The University of Auckland’s Communiqué series (supported by NZ Wood).

He recently gave two interviews in Auckland: firstly with Justine Harvey, editor of Architecture NZ, and secondly with John Walsh, communications manager at the NZIA, and Professor Andrew Barrie from The University of Auckland.

Part I: Nishizawa interviewed by Justine Harvey

Justine Harvery: In one of your monographs, Taira Nishizawa: Wooden Works 2004–2010, you talk about buildings being produced by nature. Given that you often work in wood, do you think that we humans have an instinctive affinity with natural materials?

Taira Nishizawa: We, in Japan, have wooden construction – houses normally – and, at the same time, we have steel construction and reinforced concrete as well; we imported the latter method during modern times but the wooden construction is a mixture of traditional and modern techniques. Wooden construction hasn’t been rationalised too much; it still shows an irrational, pre-modern way of thinking about how to construct a building. And, at the same time, it has a rationalised philosophy, so it is fascinating.

Steel and reinforced concrete represent a very sophisticated way of construction; we cannot add much more. It is easy to think about Tadao Ando because he is great but, basically, only the surface of his buildings is very “Tadao Ando” - within the wall is normal construction. It is exactly the same as French reinforced concrete or American reinforced concrete, the same as any modern country - only the surface is different.

Of course, we Japanese are very good at controlling the surface and at making it sophisticated, but there are some limits for me. I want to work not only on the surface, but to change the meaning or the appearance of the space. So wooden construction is not very sophisticated from inside to outside; it has the capacity to be changed in different directions.

JH: I was interested in a comment you made in Wooden Works in reference to your Sunpu project, which said, “the optical size of the space slowly changes as if breathing deeply”. This is an anthropomorphic approach – giving the space a human characteristic, that of breathing. So I wondered whether this approach is similar to the Maori concept of buildings having identities. I wonder if, by seeing the building anthropomorphically, you gain a better sense of and for the people who will use the building?

TN: (pauses) I have a grandpa who is a traditional carpenter and I remember, when I was a kid, looking at a traditional building with him. I guess that the traditional Japanese carpenter really looks at the building; they basically touch the surface or shake it or something like that. I always felt that this grandpa was another part of the building or environment and he is always touching and pushing the surface, looking around, clapping like that [claps] to feel every performance of the building or environment. As a material, wood is very, very soft. It is not a hard material like stone or brick; it is a plant or grass. And we always use soft stuff like wood or bamboo or paper. In Western thinking, wood is a building material, but for me it is in the family of food or clothes or fabric – that kind of stuff. We are always feeding the plants. Of course, wood is hard but it is part of that fabric. Please imagine a building that is made of food or a material like clothes or paper; that is a very Japanese way of feeling materials and of dealing with space prior to the modern era, I think.

JH: You mentioned that your grandfather was a carpenter. What is the state of carpentry in Japan – is it a dying skill or trade?

TN: It’s getting down, but still we can find good carpenters, such as those who worked on my gym and church. They were very talented.

JH: They must enjoy working on your projects.

TN: Yes, but sometimes they hate me.

JH: [laughs] I’m sure. But that’s part of the process, isn’t it? New Zealand and Japan have had strong ties but these are now even stronger since both countries sustained large earthquakes. I wonder what the attitude is in Japan and has it changed the way that Japanese architects work?

TN: We had to change but, strictly speaking, I couldn’t find a different attitude after the earthquakes because in Japanese society, especially urban design or planning, the older systems are very bureaucratic. So, in the case of the earthquake, we think about the best place to rebuild and which water system to use; should we use the usual method? So we have to rethink those fundamental things. But the Government system cannot be changed by anyone; it is so huge and it is not only bureaucratic but it is academic, and we have huge construction companies. Architects… aaah…

JH: You’re doing your best.

TN: Yes, we’re doing our best but we can’t touch those fundamental things. We just touch those very limited, final parts.

JH: It’s a similar situation for a lot of architects around the world.

JH: In one of your books you mentioned that, in the future, modern cities might be regarded as coming from “an urban dark age”? That is interesting in relation to New Zealand, and Christchurch in particular, because we have big decisions to make right now about the future of the city and how we rebuild. There has been criticism of some architects’ schemes – that they are too cold, not human enough. I’m interested in your thinking about creating cities and architecture that people can relate with better?

TN: The reason why I said that the 21st-century city would form a “dark age” is that we have only one way of building cities - the modern carbon city. In New York and even in Tokyo, today, we employ the same technologies, energy systems and resources; there is little variety in ways of building cities; they are exactly the same. Look at China, which is building large numbers of cities, all with modern methods. So in terms of our history, since the ’90s we’ve been in an age of the mass-production of cities. There is very little difference between modern cities compared with, say, the difference between traditional Spanish cities and Roman cities and traditional Japanese cities. We don’t have an alternative approach or philosophy to building urban fabric. This is the weakness of modern cities; they are very short-term. We can’t survive in modern cities because they are very weak against outside forces, such as earthquakes or terrorism. We rely on only one kind of energy system – the oil resource. We can survive but every city in the 20th century relies on steel and concrete and one water supply system; it is very rationalised and convenient but very weak. To survive, we need two or three different energy supplies, water supply systems and transport systems.

So, now is the time to change our modern cities. These are very important times but the political and bureaucratic systems make it very difficult to realise a change. But the city must be the place we can survive.

Part II: Nishizawa interviewed by John Walsh and Professor Andrew Barrie

John Walsh: I’m very interested in Andrew’s work connecting us to Japanese architecture. It’s really great that you guys are coming over here. There should be lots in common between New Zealand and Japan, especially the work you’re doing in timber construction. It seems highly relevant to our situation, which I guess is why you’re here. Have you had a long history designing in timber? Is it one of the materials you favour?

TN: It just happened. First of all, almost all the Japanese architects of my generation established our offices just after the collapse of Japan’s ‘bubble economy’ of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. We had to start with really small, cheap detached houses and other such small projects. It was very different for us, compared to Kengo Kuma or Kazuyo Sejima or that slightly older generation. I’d never tried to use timber construction while I was working under Keni-ichi Irie. That was the first studio in which I was employed, just after I graduated [from University].

I think Japan must be different from New Zealand. For us, construction in wood is much cheaper than building in steel or reinforced concrete; steel construction is middling and concrete is the most expensive. So ordinary detached houses are mainly built in timber using standard traditional carpentry techniques. So, my work is normally built in timber with these normal traditional techniques. That was my first meeting with timber construction. It just happened. It wasn’t my choice. It was circumstantial. In 2002, I began designing a small gymnasium in Kyushu. It was sited in a town in a mountainous area famous for forestry. It was my first project that wasn’t a detached house, but was a fairly normal public project. I was nominated to design the project by the commissioners of the Kumamoto Artpolis [Teiichi Takahashi and Toyo Ito], and it was constructed from timber because of the strong local forestry industry. The town was very small – the population was less than 3,000 and they were old – and was being absorbed into the neighboring town. That neighboring town had no connection to the forestry industry. I had to use wooden construction.

JW: So since that project you’ve kept working with timber?

TN: Yes, I’ve had to.

AB: Your story reminds me a bit of Gerald Melling. He says he’s now become associated with low- cost construction. He’s been typecast. If somebody needs a low cost building, they’ll go to him. Do people think of yourself as someone who can make a good building despite a low budget? 

TN: I think so. Sometimes people say to me, ‘you’re a miracle’.

AB: The issue for Gerald is that low-cost buildings take the same amount of time to design as big budget buildings, but the fee is far less. Do you feel some pressure running your office because of this?

TN: Not so much.

JW: How many people work in your office?

TN: Three. It’s very small. We are very focused on our way of designing. Projects aren’t done like it is the 21st century; more like the 18th century. We make models and sketch by hand. It’s very primitive.

JW: Do you use computers?

TN: Yes, but that’s not the important part or our work. That’s additional. We just draw.

JW: How do you work with the craftsman that you use? You said that you use builders that have traditional knowledge and skills. So do you always work with the same builders?

TN: No, not always the same builders. In Japan, we have really good traditional carpentry skills available. For me, that has been really lucky. Even today, we can find good carpenters anywhere. It’s getting more and more difficult, but we can still find them. With the gymnasium project, the carpenter was great. He was 60 years old but his work was great. The carpenter for the church in Shizuoka was also really great.

JW: That church is beautiful. Did the congregation want something that beautiful, that different, or did they just leave it up to you? Did you have a lot of freedom to design, or did they give you a precise brief?

TN: Again that project was very cheap, but the agenda was clear. The protestant congregation was very old and very poor, but they really needed that building. They wanted to rebuild because their existing church was so old. In Japan, the majority of buildings built aren’t really necessary… A lot of buildings are built almost automatically for political or economic reasons, and no one really cares if they’ll be important to the users. In the cases of both the gymnasium and church they really needed those buildings, so that was unique for me. It’s good to have to think about it deeply.

AB: In New Zealand we’d expect an elderly congregation or a small country town to be very conservative, so it’s surprising that you could realize such radical projects in those environments.

JW: Do you like to use pitched roofs?

TN: Yes, sometimes, because the volume of a house is very tiny.

JW: Have you designed outside of Japan? Do you have international projects?

TN: Not yet. I’d need a Japanese carpenter.

JW: It would do New Zealand a lot of good to have Japanese architects working here.

AB: I heard that someone stood up at your lecture in Christchurch…

TN: In Christchurch I gave a lecture to 250 people, and after I finished my presentation an old lady stood up and gave a speech to the audience. She asked why we couldn’t have these kind of wooden churches in the center of Christchurch again?

JW:  There’s certainly an opportunity there.

AB: Prior to the earthquakes, many of the original old buildings in Christchurch were still standing, particularly the old churches. But almost all these churches, particularly in the central area, were badly damaged in the ‘quakes.

JW: Many have very small, elderly congregations.

AB: So a lot of them will never be rebuilt. Many congregations are ageing and shrinking, but they often occupy really important historical buildings. The upkeep costs for these buildings are going up, and the number of people is going down. In Christchurch, many of these buildings are now badly damaged or demolished. It has become an impossible situation.

JW: They need some optimism, something to look forward to, to have a little bit of hope. They need some good buildings.

AB: It’s all very complicated. There’s been a fight about the Cathedral. The church doesn’t have enough money to rebuild, but because the building was a symbol of the city many people want it rebuilt the way it was. There’s no money - just a lot of fighting…

JW: It would be great to see some Japanese work in New Zealand. The images we see of Japanese buildings are often in landscapes quite similar to those of New Zealand, especially the houses that Japanese architects sometimes design in the woods or rural areas. Our urban conditions are different obviously… It would be very interesting to see your sort of approach in New Zealand. The standard of your workmanship is incredibly high, so that would be a challenge. You’d have to find a craftsman to do it, but I’m sure you could.

AB: Some of the Japanese architects we bring here don’t have such a good fit with local conditions. We’re impressed by their work, but it’s hard to imagine using their ideas here. For example, Junya Ishigami visited earlier in the year. Everyone was fascinated with his work, but it’s hard to imagine his architecture in New Zealand.

TN: It’s made of steel.

AB: One of the reasons I was really interested to bring you here is that the technology you use is also available in New Zealand. The ideas you’re showing can be absorbed here. Last year [your former employee] Go Hasagawa did a lecture tour here. His work is mostly small houses in which the construction technology is very compatible with what we’re doing in New Zealand. His uniqueness all comes from his ideas.

JW: You talked about the bubble. Has Japan recovered from the bursting of the bubble, or is still stagnant?

TN: Not yet.

JW: That obviously changed the doing of architecture in Japan for a lot of people - the scale and the amount of work.

TN: Most established architects and companies didn’t want to change. They had the same ideas as before.They didn’t change their designs.

AB: In Japan, how do people regard being an architect? Does being an architect have status in society? Is it a career children aspire to?

TN: No, I don’t think so. From the beginning, Japanese people haven’t cared about architecture. More than 90% doesn’t have any conception of architecture. But every kid knows carpentry and maybe building.

AB: How did you become an architect? And why?

TN: I should have been a mathematician. Up until high school I was a maths genius. I thought that I’d become a great mathematician, but when I was 17 years old I met a very clever mathematician … and I was really shocked. He was a classmate. He was very creative - the reason I love maths is that it’s very creative. I believed that the most innovative or creative realm of human ability was maths. Across history, mathematicians have used many tools. It’s a kind of interesting weird tool that cannot define how to use it. They bring many different kinds of tools, and define new things.

JW: But you had this shocking encounter and you realised that you couldn’t do it?

TN: Yes. For me, physics and other sciences are very boring. They’re easy, but I knew I couldn’t keep doing them all my life. I came across architecture and design courses in the engineering department [of the University]. In Japan, we have architecture and design courses within scientific community.

JW: Where did you study architecture?

TN: Tokyo Institute of Technology

AB: Which laboratory?

TN: In the lab of Kazuo Shinohara and Kazunari Sakamoto. Shinohara was one of the great Japanese architects… He used to be a mathematician. Before I first met him at University I’d heard a rumour that there was a great architecture professor who used to be a mathematician, but who shifted his career when he was young. I was surprised to hear that as I thought being a mathematician was the greatest job a human being could take on.

JW: Is the idea of lineage quite important in Japanese architecture? Who you work for? Who that person worked for?

TN: Very important.

AB: Shinohara was one of the most influential architects of the 1970 and 80s. There was Arata Isozaki on one hand and Shinohara on the other. They defined the two key approaches or streams.

TN: Yes, there were two streams. At the Tokyo Institute of Technology, Shinohara was famous for his many beautiful houses. Shinohara’s professor was the student of Kiyoshi Seike, who was famous for his steel case study houses. He’d studied in the US or England and was also the editor of Shinkenchiku [Japan’s most important architecture magazine].

AB: You can draw a very clear ‘family tree’ of Japanese architects. In New Zealand, architects like to make partnerships and work in different offices, so our family tree is messy and complicated and much harder to draw.

JW: Have you ever worked for a big practice? Who did you work for after you graduated?

TN: I went to the studio of Kei-ichi Irie. He is one of my senpai from the Shinohara laboratory.

AB: Each professor has a bunch of students moving through their lab. A senpai is someone older but who studied in the same lab.

AB: So, have you always worked in a small practice?

TN: Yes.

AB: How did you find work when you first started your own office?

TN: The first job came from a friend of my sister. It was a very small house with a limited budget, and the client had no idea about architecture or building or anything. But he’d known me since childhood, so he took me on.

JW: Are you religious?

TN: Yes, protestant. But I’m not a serious Christian, because I’m always working.

JW: What have you done with the exterior of the church?

TN: The outside wall consists of Canadian red cedar boards split so they have a naturally wavy surface. Light is very important for churches, so I wanted something to happen when the light comes. This is a north-facing elevation wall and has an uneven surface, so when light comes in parallel to it and hits this wavy face, it shows a sharp contrast of light and shadows. Just before sunset, light comes, and that contrast effect will be seen for about 20 minutes or so.

JW: Is the timber normally supplied like this, or specially requested?

TN: Yes, it was specially requested.

TN: Red Cedar doesn’t decay in Japanese temperatures, so the boards aren’t painted. So it will weather 8 or 10 years after completion, and the colour will become a monotone dark silver. The light will then be very effective. So for me, this building is still under construction.

JW: In Japanese cities there are power lines everywhere. Why is that? Is it to do with earthquakes?

TN: It’s just normal. Some residential centres don’t have any power lines.