The Intersection of Nature and Architecture

In May 2022, a building was completed in a town about 800 kilometers from Tokyo.

Underground, it looks like a labyrinth of caves.

But it's actually home to a restaurant.

This structure was designed by architect Junya Ishigami.

I'm fascinated by the concept
of boundaries.

My interest lies in blurring
those boundaries.

I want to make the division
more ambiguous.

A forest garden dotted with 160 ponds.

A pavilion with a curved roof covered with stacks of slate.

A plaza covered by a single, massive steel plate.

Ishigami's works seamlessly integrate architecture and nature.

Where does his inspiration come from?

So lovely.
I want to live here.

Ishigami explores Japan's long relationship with nature and its influence on architecture through his work.

Ube is a city in western Japan with a population of about 160,000.

Our host, Robert Campbell, studies Japanese literature from cultural and social perspectives.

Hello. Today, I've come all the way to the west of Tokyo to meet up and talk with Junya Ishigami, an architect whose works both here in Japan and abroad

are known for their striking capacity to evoke deep feelings in whoever approaches them.

We'll be getting together at one of these projects, a restaurant he's just finished designing here in the countryside.

I'm looking forward to hearing about what inspires him to create such unique spaces.

Wow!

How mysterious.

A subterranean building in a residential neighborhood.

This is Ishigami's latest work.

It's a restaurant that opened in May.

Pardon me.

Wow, this is amazing.

Oh, Mr. Ishigami?

Hi, I'm Robert Campbell.

Hello.

I bet everyone was curious about this peculiar structure that appeared in their neighborhood.

I'm sure many people came to take a look at the mysterious space that was being created.

It's such a fascinating place.

Thank you.

The cave-like structure is divided into a restaurant and a residential area.

First, a tour of the restaurant.

So, this is the most spacious part?

Largest window, too.

It sure is big.

Amazing.

And this is the counter.

Yes, the guests sit at the counter.

They can eat while conversing with the chef.

And afterwards, they can go and have drinks just over there.

Fantastic!

The idea is to sit down at the dining counter before sunset.

So they start to eat while it's still fairly bright outside.

Gradually, as the sun goes down, the ground becomes darker, almost black.

And at nightfall, the color of the sky has become a deep blue.

The client chef wanted his guests to experience the changing light through the course of their meal.

The residential side has a separate entrance.

This is amazing.

The residential side faces south, while the restaurant faces north.

Thank you.

This is just amazing.

So lovely.

I want to live here.

How did you go about constructing this?

Where we're standing actually used to be solid ground.

We started off by digging some large holes in the ground, and then we poured concrete into them.

After the concrete hardened, we dug around it to reveal the structure that had been created, sort of like an archaeological excavation.

The soil left patterns in the concrete, resulting in this rugged surface.

So the original layers of earth have been partially preserved in the structure.

In order to lower the line of sight, we dug even deeper to create the seating area.

Lowering the seating area makes the ceiling seem higher.

More spacious.

This is the bedroom.

The residential area will eventually be turned into a lodging facility.

It's designed to make you forget that you're in a regular neighborhood.

I'm sure it'll be very peaceful.

There's a courtyard in the center of the structure.

It's filled with various plants, so that even inside the cave, guests can still be in touch with the outdoors.

Ishigami strives to incorporate aspects of the local landscape into his work.

That effort can be seen in this garden, completed in 2018.

Its landscape is made up of trees, ponds, and moss.

It looks like it has existed since time immemorial— but it was engineered by Ishigami.

Due to the construction of a new hotel nearby, more than 300 trees on its grounds were scheduled to be cut down.

Ishigami made the decision to instead relocate the trees here and create a garden.

The stones, moss, and other materials all come from the hotel site.

No additional materials have been used.

This land was once covered by rice paddies.

Ishigami has created an entirely new landscape that synthesizes the natural environment with the relocated trees, stones, and moss.

This garden prompts visitors to consider the relationship between mankind and nature.

You relocated and transplanted the trees and stones to create that garden.

Taking these things that have existed for many years, and transferring them to a nearby location to use them for something else is a very interesting concept.

When creating a garden, you usually bring in plants, stones, and grass from various distant locations.

This causes harm to the microorganisms that existed, for example, around the roots of the original plants.

In other words, you destroy the existing ecosystem in order to build a new one.

For this project, we used huge excavators to relocate everything from the hotel site to the neighboring site in just a few hours.

By doing so, we were able to preserve the existing ecosystem.

So rather than creating a new garden, it was more like shifting the environment a little bit.

I'm fascinated by the concept of boundaries.

So by shifting the boundaries or the border of the original forest, I thought it would be possible to build upon the existing environment,

to forge new connections.

Instead of maintaining a firm boundary and isolating ourselves from nature, I think it's possible to create a richer living environment by simply shifting,

or, expanding existing boundaries with and within nature.

That's why I decided to relocate the trees and stones from the hotel to the nearby garden site.

When designing architecture, you start out by establishing the boundaries; you have to be conscious of them.

But my interest lies in blurring those boundaries bit by bit and making the division more ambiguous.

I think it's very important to be aware of the boundaries that exist around us and to do whatever you can to blur or weaken the divide.

This is true not only of one particular project, but of everything I do in my work.

There are various boundaries and borders of all kinds that exist throughout the world.

And I believe that blurring these boundaries and making them more ambiguous ultimately enhances the significance and meaning of human creation.

Ishigami has designed two facilities that allow visitors to experience the border between architecture and nature.

The KAIT Workshop is part of a university campus.

It's where students gather to engage in various creative activities involving machinery, pottery, and glass.

There are no walls or partitions dividing the 2,000 square meter space.

The glass structure is supported by 305 thin columns placed at random.

We're indoors, but it feels like
we're out in the garden.

You have a clear view out,
so you don't feel cooped up.

Ishigami also created an event space next to the workshop.

The 90 meter by 60 meter space is covered by a single vast sheet of steel, just one centimeter thick.

Rectangular openings of various sizes allow sunlight, wind, and rain to enter the multipurpose space.

The roof of the KAIT Plaza has openings in various places that allow the rain and sunlight to enter.

So you can experience the changes that take place over a day, and also from season to season, and even throughout the course of a year.

Yes, I wanted to create a space that would allow people to feel the difference in the light and the wind.

Seen macroscopically, the earth's landscape seems flat, almost two-dimensional in some places.

In addition, areas covered by low-hanging clouds are cast in shadows, while sunlit areas are bright.

But if the clouds were very high in the sky, the light would be cast around evenly, so even on cloudy days, there would be no difference in brightness.

Traditional Japanese homes have low ceilings, so as a result, the light coming in from the courtyard doesn't reach far into the interior rooms.

So there are dark areas inside even in the daytime.

The rooms may open out into the garden or veranda, but they're still cast in shadow.

The KAIT Plaza is a wide open space.

But I've made the ceiling as low as possible, so that when the light pours in from the many openings, some areas are bright, while others are cast in shadows.

Some people may prefer to spend time in the areas with light, while others may prefer to be in the darker areas.

Creating this uneven light in the space helps visitors feel closer to nature.

So you've designed the plaza in a way that allows visitors to choose where they want to be, and to be on their own or with others.

It would be wonderful if we could apply this idea to residences, offices, and other social spaces.

Right.

The KAIT Plaza is intended to be used as an event space.

But because it's so large, when it's not used for events, it's a place where students can take a break; they can relax or eat or simply sit in contemplation.

I wanted to create that kind of versatile space with this structure.

Obviously, it's important to create a space that functions properly.

But at the same time, I feel it's very important to make the functions fuzzy and ambiguous, to the point that people may no longer be sure of the intended functions of the space.

In the Edo period, I think people had a more multifaceted way of looking at things.

A single object could be used in a variety of different ways.

For instance, a hard wooden pillow could be used as a stepstool.

Or if it had a built-in drawer, it could be used to hide a love letter, or to store some fragrance to scent your hair as you sleep.

I think this is very similar to what you were saying just before about functions and versatility.

It's a very creative, imaginative approach to things in my opinion.

I think versatility was a hallmark of traditional Japanese homes.

They provided a social function.

A home was a place for social gatherings.

All rites of passage, from births and weddings to funerals were held within the home.

Neighbors would come and help.

The home was also the focal point of everyday life.

But gradually, people began to separate their private and public lives, and the home no longer served as a place for social gatherings.

These gatherings began to take place in the outside world.

As a result, the home's only function became to provide a living space, with people going to work outside the home.

But I think that in the near future, we'll be seeing a gradual return to the past, with the home becoming a setting for social activity once again.

It's often said that traditional Japanese houses embrace nature, that they welcome it in.

The home allows light and wind to enter freely.

And weeds and insects exist under the veranda.

But as you pointed out, the houses also embraced society along with nature.

Listening to what you were saying, it made me appreciate how the prevailing thought in the past was to live alongside nature, in harmony with it, rather than viewing it as something separate.

Yes. That's true.

Drawn to Ishigami's architectural philosophy, young architects from France, China, and other parts of the world have come to work with him.

I'm from France.

I studied actually in school.

And then through some researches, I found his works and his philosophy.

So then, I got really interested in the way he works with landscapes and architectures.

Ishigami is moving forward with various projects throughout the world.

His work on the KAIT Workshop in 2008 thrust him into the global spotlight.

In 2019, he took on a project for a London gallery.

A pavilion with an arched roof covered with local slate, stacked using traditional masonry techniques.

As part of a renovation project for a museum in Moscow, he excavated the basement of the 19th century building to reveal the original structure.

He turned the basement into a plaza, elevating the memories of the museum site into a work of art.

In 2021, as part of the events leading up to the Tokyo Olympics, Ishigami created a work in central Tokyo.

He created a canopy of charred cedarwood over the garden of an old Western-style residence.

It was created using a traditional Japanese method of wood preservation that involves charring the surface of the wood to make it impervious to rain.

The canopy has openings of various sizes.

Through this work, Ishigami aimed to turn back the hands of time by hiding the surrounding skyscrapers from view.

I believe that many of your works manage to capture the history, or reveal the memories buried in a particular spot or region.

You can definitely hear the echoes of the past.

It's not just about memories.

I think it's very important to feel a sense of...

enrichment when you enter or utilize the architecture.

To put it simply, increasing the amount of information that can be conveyed enriches the experience.

In other words, the wealth of information on, let's say, the greenery: the conditions under which it grows, how it's relevant to the land, and how well it captures the history and the atmosphere of the area...

all of the information is connected to the sense of enrichment we feel as visitors when we take in a piece of architecture.

So, I try to create works that draw out and reveal, as much as possible, the inherent memories of the land and its history.

This, I hope, will become one sort of catalyst in creating works of architecture that allow people to feel enriched.

So that's one aspect that I focus on.

How did you discover your own architectural style?

When and how did you realize the kind of architecture you wanted to create?

To be honest, I'm not sure whether I've managed to come up with my own distinctive style.

But... what I always keep in mind is to never start a project with a preconceived, clear view of how it'll turn out.

I don't want to travel along a clear path.

Rather than traveling towards a set destination toward a concrete goal, I want it to be a journey of exploration and discoveries.

While making my way, I need to incorporate the client's values and consider factors that may emerge, and gradually it becomes clearer.

Still, I have no idea what the project will look like upon completion.

So in that sense, I'm much like my client.

So I would say that's how I like to create things.

I suppose I try to avoid setting a clear goal for myself.

I'm sure the coronavirus pandemic has had an impact on the field of architecture as well.

Definitely, yes.

For example, I'm now working on a cultural and arts facility in Tokushima Prefecture.

I'm ensuring that it has a lot of outdoor and semi-outdoor spaces.

Ishigami is working on an innovative design for a new cultural facility in Tokushima.

Where will the dance studio be?

Around here along with the
music studio.

Then we can incorporate them
into the outdoor theater.

The building is scheduled for completion in 2026.

Ishigami is reworking the design on a daily basis.

The completed structure will feature open terraces that resemble flower petals.

The design incorporates an abundance of open space.

It's a bold concept that's unheard of for a public facility in Japan.

I think the pandemic had a lot to do with the acceptance of this kind of design for a public hall.

The idea is to have plenty of outdoor and semi-outdoor spaces that are open and adaptable to a wide range of activities.

So it's very flexible.

I think the public has now come to recognize and appreciate the importance of windflow and proper ventilation in architecture for all sorts of facilities.

That's probably why my design was accepted.

What are your thoughts on the state and significance of architecture?

How do you see it evolving in the future?

One thing I'm certain about is that the architecture of the future will be different from so-called "modern" architecture.

I often think about what distinguishes the architects of today from modern architects.

Modern architects were solely focused on mass production.

So they started out with a clear, identified goal in mind, and, built prototypes that would allow for mass production.

That was their mindset.

So the role of architects was to come up with a single "correct" answer, something uniform.

But architects today have to accept and live with diverse values.

So it's important for us to be able to come up with a wide range of answers.

That's why I found it difficult to answer your question earlier about my architectural style.

I purposely avoid limiting myself to one particular style.

For instance, this restaurant.

It's totally different from anything I've designed before.

I didn't even think of creating such a design.

But listening to the client explain what he had in mind, I thought it would be quite interesting to realize his vision.

And that's precisely why I took on the challenge.

I'm fascinated by exploring the unknown.

So I envision myself incorporating new and different values.

This is probably how my future will unfold.

And I think this applies to other architects of my generation as well.

I think it's important for architects today to be able to propose and work with different values.

We asked Ishigami to write a kanji character that represents his life and his work.

The kanji he selected is "kumo" or clouds.

I wasn't expecting you to select this particular kanji.

Why "clouds"?

Clouds don't have a clear shape.

They clearly exist, but the outline is constantly changing.

The border is very fuzzy.

I'm attracted to things that have a shape but disappear or become invisible when you get up close, or approach them.

Do you prefer cloudy days or do you get excited when it's sunny?

Well, I like all kinds of weather.

The scenery changes depending on the weather.

So there are different views and things you can only see on rainy days...

Take the KAIT Plaza, for instance.

I enjoy spending time there most on cloudy days.

In other words, rather than sitting in the bright light that pours in from the rectangular openings on sunny days, I prefer to sit in areas that are cast in shadows.

I like things to be blurry.

But I also enjoy how the scenery changes according to the weather.