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Well orchestrated street for people, green spaces and a diversity of mobility options for local and city wide needs. Image prompted by author, generated by Gemini Ai

Tensions in the streets

April 27, 2026

In the US, we spent 75 years convincing the public to believe the primary function of a street is to carry vehicles through the city; that what was good for cars was good for America and to allocate space and money to bicycles, transit and just pedestrians was tantamount to attacking our national lifestyle. While that may sound like hyperbole, our streets and roads are currently undergoing substantial redefinition around the country to be less car-centric and instead become dynamic thriving human-centered spaces. While this alone can ignite controversy, assuring that our public corridors continue to support both being and moving, and its many modes at the same time invites a whole new wave of issues. Shifting from the car to answer the vast majority of our urban transportation needs will require that we turn to other modes for traveling distances beyond walking and bicycle range. Our current best candidates for this role, buses, light rail and metros, continue to rank low in public appeal and high in public costs.  The transformation our cities need is wanting for modes of transport that can both carry urban capacities and offer a compelling experience - in cost & comfort - to get the public  on board. But, as with anything in the public domain, it won’t be easy.  

Our city streets are increasingly contested, congested and constantly evolving assets under pressure from changing community priorities to accommodate needs like movement in its many forms, utilities overhead and underfoot, green spaces, human spaces and public services. In her book, Streetfight: Handbook for an Urban Revolution, Janette Sadik-Khan, formerly Commissioner of the New York City Department of Transportation (DOT) rightly characterized the “invisible war” taking place in our city streets today. Her account captures the chaos of sidewalks, bike lanes, and auto lanes all simultaneously being vied for by private automobiles, taxis, ride-shares, buses, trucks, pedestrians, bicycles, scooters and soon autonomous vehicles. While these modes wrestle for space, the street also struggles to accommodate utilities below grade, overhead infrastructure, trees, street furniture, and the property and privacy rights sensitivities of everyone along the way. This pressurized reality is nothing new, but its complexities - spatial, temporal, social and political - continue to intensify with each passing year. 

It was into this landscape that my company has been working to introduce a new, permanent, form of mass transportation. Though not necessarily a new idea having first been deployed over 50 years ago in West Virginia, recent advances in autonomous vehicle and fleet control technology is transforming this nearly forgotten concept into a compelling opportunity to significantly improve urban mass transit. Contrast this with the autonomous vehicle technology rolling out into cities in the past year or two that highlights two important realities: 1.) current autonomy can be safe and reliable, and 2.) While reliable in limited scale of operations, its ability to provide mass transit scale service is seriously in doubt. Cities will need both in the mix of choices. PRT provides on-demand service, not fixed schedules; moves significantly more people than street-level autonomous vehicles; and operates autonomously in private, comfortable, electric vehicles at a low cost. Zoox and Waymo have raised our expectations to see these as givens, but the challenge for PRT lies in building the integrated, dedicated infrastructure. High capacities are enabled by operating on an exclusive guideway infrastructure. But being small, agile, and capable of running at grade, elevated, or underground, the system requires far less space than conventional transit and costs much less to build for a comparable level of service. 

The sins of urban interventions of the past have the public wary of any changes to this tenuous and imperfect balance of uses and space. Our challenge was to provide the best, most equitable use of the shared finite resource of our urban streets, provide an irresistible service and experience for riders, and to become a welcome addition to the city street. Equity meant serving the needs of all city dwellers at the multiple scales of the place or block, the neighborhood and at the wider city scale. Transit operates in the latter two realms, but impacts all three. We were not alone in trying to enter the market with the promise of solving one of cities’ most vexing problems - affordable, sustainable, appealing mass transit. If merely being better technology isn’t a sufficient proposition to be included, what will earn it an invitation to join in the mix and find a successful place in the city? 

Major urban corridors offer the irresistible attribute to anyone trying to address city scale problems and that is CONTINUITY. This is not a new reality. In 19th century Paris, with memories of the French revolution still fresh in people’s minds, Napoleon III faced just such a problem: How could he move his military across the entire city when it was made up an urban fabric riddled with centuries’ of very discontinuous, uncoordinated conditions? He directed his prefect of Seine, Georges-Eugène Haussmann, to come up with a solution. His response was to demolish thousands of buildings and narrow, winding streets of the dense, medieval fabric of the city and carved out long straight swaths of the city for the wide boulevards connecting major civic landmarks, expansive parks lining them with the 7 story boulevard architecture that have come to symbolize the City’s unique urban charm and powerful urban scale order. Wisely, he included the creation of new sewers, lighting, and street trees to the scope.  Drastic as they were to accomplish a rare, worst-case solution, these changes provided multiple amenities that Parisians still enjoy on a daily basis like cafes, wide sidewalks for people, planting, long views enhancing orientation and wayfinding. Mayor Hidalgo has continued to flex this muscle in the past decade with the reallocation and greening of urban spaces away from parking, cars and hardscapes to people and green spaces with stunning success gaining praise from around the world.

One hundred years later, New York went through a somewhat similar episode of drastic transformations in the service of wider ‘necessities’, but with less clear success. Robert Moses, wearing a long series of titles during his tenure with the city, set out to ‘modernize’ the city through an ambitious urban renewal program to clear large areas of the city to build new freeways, bridges, tunnels, parks, public housing and numerous civic cultural projects. Unlike Paris’ Haussmann boulevards, Moses’ freeways were single purpose concrete intrusions that permanently displaced wide swathes of the city and divided communities. Even when lined with green spaces to become ‘parkways’ through the suburbs, they could never also serve as parks for people. Aside from direct highway access into the city, they offered little — and in many cases delivered outright harm — to the communities they displaced. They failed to provide the local scale and city scale value combination witnessed in Paris. We set out to deliver value to all three scales: the place, the neighborhood and the city.

Will there ever be room for new solutions? - a New PRT

This challenge defined much of my efforts over the past seven years at work. Like Haussmann's focus on national security and Moses' on urban scale mobility, the system's initial priority was to provide mass transportation that would both draw people away from cars and remain affordable for existing public transit users. Our added challenge was to contribute to the larger campaign to improve streets as shared public spaces.  The lessons of Paris, New York and other real world precedents helped us formulate a solution that would succeed at all three scales of the city and the user groups associated with each one.

The primary challenge for this system and continuous infrastructure in general remains, however, is that it must be built using real, physical elements that require some of that precious space. It's one thing to fit the infrastructure's small cross section into a street's wide right-of-way, but it becomes much harder when that diagram is extruded into three dimensions, encountering conflicts and crossings along the route, and even more difficult when adding the necessary vertical support structure at ground level. On open land, at grade, this integration is simple—no conflicts or vertical structure are needed. However, in the dense, complex urban environment, even early subway builders recognized that the surface was too complicated for high-capacity transit, necessitating grade separation. Ground level is the city’s premium real estate and the main stage for this conflict.

As this tension escalates, there is no choice but to go up or down. A genuinely human-centered strategy will prioritize the ground level for people-centric spaces, light mobility modes, green areas, transport access points, and all local activities. As subways and utilities have demonstrated, moving infrastructure up or down is often the only way to avoid conflicts and ensure continuous routing.

Grade separation enables high capacity, but it comes at a significant price. Elevating a system - road, rail or guideway - is always more expensive than running along the ground, like a paved path, roughly 4-6x as expensive. Putting that same system underground will be closer to 8-10x the cost, depending on context. We discovered two critical realities that would shape our route planning and project strategy going forward and seem axiomatic now: 1.) Every dollar for higher cost translates to less line length and less service, and 2.) The infrastructure cost for this system is significantly less than the cost of traditional modes like light rail trains or buses. This means that for a given capital allocation, the PRT solution could provide significantly more system coverage. A secondary plus from the lower capital cost is the prospect of using less money to provide the same service coverage freeing funds for other public needs. 

We would also go on to learn a great deal about the cost sensitivities surrounding public infrastructure projects and how they stack up against political sensitivities. In the end, integrating this new, permanent infrastructure into the finite space of urban corridors demonstrated how intensely contested urban corridors have become for all urban interventions. Cities are already very busy places, and as densities increase and users become more diverse in both their mobility and space needs, it will be essential to be more flexible and multi-functional. Everything at ground level must contribute either functionally or aesthetically to the performance of the street, even if the element is holding up the infrastructure running overhead.

Street Users

Over the course of each day, individuals may take on a variety of spatial and functional needs multiple times. From sitting on the sidewalk, to walking a short distance, to taking a longer trip, people will adopt some or all of these modes as they go about their daily lives. As they do, the value they place on a given space will also vary. The challenge for improving the quality of city streets lies in defining whose needs are to be prioritized and when they should be balanced with other potentially conflicting needs. In the past, quick, high capacity connections from the suburbs to the urban core were seen as delivering the lifeblood of an entire metropolitan area - suburban commuters. In practice these priorities drained the inner cities of resources to maintain their infrastructure while paving over the places that made the cities thrive. Enter the downward spiral of degraded urban neighborhoods driving suburban flight and drained municipal tax revenues. For the past twenty years, cities have been returning to the basic question: Who are our streets intended to serve, what functions and spaces do they need and how do these decisions affect the city’s overall success, both socially and economically? If the example provided by former Paris Mayor Anne Hidalgo's top-down prioritization of people places over business and movement is any indication, the cards are being restacked. Once car-choked streets are now teeming with bicycles, pedestrians, trees and greenery that are helping to significantly reduce the city’s unhealthy heat island and poor air quality conditions. Motorways cutting off the city from the river are now promenades filled with thousands of people every day strolling, cycling and enjoying the scenery. The current renaissance in the city is proof that these aggressive human-focused measures are good for the whole city.

The three major groups vying for their needs in the street correspond to the three scales described above: residents/ places, visitors/ the neighborhood and those just passing through from elsewhere in town, the transients. These describe modes of use rather than fixed identities. Individuals can shift from one mode of city-user to another in the course of a day. Also, streets can shapeshift as well, but the underlying physical infrastructure must be built to anticipate these transformations. A resident who cherishes the dynamic streetlife of mixed uses and diverse people out their front door can desire a safe bicycle lane to connect to another neighborhood and hope for ample safe places to park their car or store their bicycle. Or, if they have or rent a car, they might want to get out of town as quickly as possible regardless of what neighborhoods their path takes them through. City streets will rarely serve only one group and therefore must balance these often conflicting functions, but being clear about a street’s primary purpose helps reinforce the legibility of the city, communicating to people “places to be”, “places to move safely” and minimize the spaces impacted by the vehicles and necessary infrastructure of those just passing through. Communities are no longer willing to cede a public street to a single use, let alone a private beneficiary. The fruits of these shared assets must also be shared or justly compensated.

Residents

The first core user group are, of course, residents. They want the street to be a "living room." These are people who live or work in a place. It is their home. They are the neighbors, or, in Jane Jacobs’ words “the eyes on the street”. They have a sense of ownership and prioritize livability, atmosphere, safety and the qualities associated with simply being in a place. They patronize local businesses, attend local schools and hang out in the local parks, streets and visit their neighbors. They are also the businesses themselves. The spaces in front of and around their front doors are critical to their success. Life there is on foot, connections are made by walking. 

Visitors 

On the other hand, visitors want the street to be a lobby, convenient and inviting for coming and going to and from a place. They need spaces for arriving by a variety of modes of transportation - bus stops, stations, or private modes needing parking spaces and lots for cars, bikes and scooters. Shared modes add to this list of demands as shared micro modes co-opt space between uses inserting themselves painfully into this mix. Travel lanes, sidewalks, bike lanes and auto lanes don’t need to be fast or free of interruptions, but they must connect to parking - spaces or bike racks - close to their destination. They also want to be able to understand the places they pass through, signage, wayfinding and large scale appearances are priorities because they can only be perceived while on the move.  Once they arrive, however, they are happy to shift into ‘resident’ mode, even if only for the time of their visit. The needs of moving yield to just being and we shift gears. Different things begin to matter. The quality of the place needs to hold up - safety, interest, activity, atmosphere. 

Transients

Lastly, the third group vying for space within the city streets are those folks ‘just passing through’ are the transients operating at the city scale, who pass through like ghosts, barely registering the places they traverse. As commuters they want the street to be like a pipe, non-stop, direct with little value for the qualities of place they may pass through. They prioritize continuity and their value is enjoyed by folks elsewhere - downtown, across town, out of town, etc. just not here. They serve the wider metropolitan population - both urban and suburban but the burden of accommodating their pathways is borne locally. The wide roadways, subways, elevated causeways needed to handle these urban scale capacities require continuous space and so, practically need to be underground, elevated or plowed through the urban fabric. Cities of the twentieth century expanded to include vast suburbs shifting the priorities to overwhelmingly favor this last group with devastating results for local, urban communities. Aside from the high price paid by inner city communities, providing that infrastructure has come at an increasingly hefty price, to the point of grinding the provision of inner urban mass transit transportation to a near halt. Cities can’t build all the transit communities need without help from the federal government. Elevated trains and buses above streets and between buildings has become impossible, both financially and politically. Their physical intrusion carries negative impacts one can not mitigate. Blocked views, threats to privacy, shade and shadow impacts all begin as abstract fears, but quickly become real obstacles to implementation. Underground metros or BRT systems carry such financial impacts that when they can be built, we don’t get much for the effort. 

Landscaped raised guideway integrated into the park. Image prompted by author, generated by Gemini Ai

This is the quandary we sought to overcome - providing high capacity connectivity serving the wider city at a lower cost than trains, more convenient than buses while still being a contributing element in this highly contested urban setting, the street at all three scales. PRT’s ability to move lots of people using much less space than those old ‘transient’ modes would surely earn this a place at the spatial negotiating table, we felt. While we chased many opportunities for our system, the conversations requiring alignment in the middle of an existing road or street regularly met with a pause or outright pushback and skepticism. Other locations or alignments steering us clear of city streets encountered much less resistance. 

We began engaging airports, campuses, new greenfield developments, etc. where the lines were simpler, stakeholder groups less demanding, less sensitive. I even found less opposition, in fact managing to rally support for the system to run through a public park. Again, the transit+ approach proved critical. Initially the park route would have been a simple pass through “pipe” serving points elsewhere, but not the park itself. I was aware that such a proposal would not be successful, it provided nothing for the park’s users.  We added stops within the park to provide direct access, activate the place at both ends and indirectly helped deter a chronic homeless presence that weighed heavily on the wider use of the park by the city residents.  We went further to modify the type of elevated structure used to be an earthen berm. This provided a softer, landscaped edge to separate the main open fields from the messy light industrial uses neighboring the park. Openings below the guideway still allowed access to and from the park, but the space now felt ‘contained’ and surrounded by greenery. Presenting this vision to the Park Conservancy leadership,  the stewards of the park, we came away with their provisional support. A major project milestone. That it would someday carry thousands of passengers quietly to and through the park was a bonus. 

The project is far from completed, but these early adjustments allowed the team to win the trust of a key stakeholder and contract to proceed to the next step. We had overcome a major hurdle no others had managed to overcome. The big takeaway, especially in the US stakeholders rights are powerful, was that the introduction of any new element into the urban environment - city street or public park - must offer something to all three groups or face rejection. 

What would make them want us in their community?It came down to a philosophy of winning the support of local communities by asking the question: What enhancements can we add to the PRT infrastructure that would prompt a neighbor who might never ride the system to want one of those in their neighborhood because it makes the whole place better? The answer we learned was to move beyond the notion of single use infrastructure to create a framework for a variety of public functions, spaces and features. The goals shifted from one of mitigating a negative intrusion to one of initiating a positive transformation along the route. I labeled the resulting hybrid of infrastructural functionality with human scaled spaces and functions “Infratecture” capable of serving local residents, neighborhood visitors and cross town travelers wherever it goes.

Infratecture

Expanding upon the infratecture concept, I launched a process to imagine, define and incorporate new complementary functions and elements into our technology’s elevated infrastructure. I began by analyzing the space ‘below the tracks’. History and current urban works provided a long list of examples as inspiration. Rome’s remaining ancient viaducts, marvels of civil engineering and civic city building, still offer a profound sense of place and identity for cities throughout Europe. Since the end of the Roman Empire, in fact, people have inserted additions into these durable structures for new uses for housing, storage, and shops. More recently, artifacts of the industrial revolution have been transformed into powerful, distinct urban elements. In the 1990s, Paris renovated an 18th century elevated rail viaduct into a linear garden on top and shops below called the Promenade Plantée. Other cities in Europe followed and in the US, it inspired New York’s Highline project. These were all successful exercises in adapting major infrastructures either abandoned or obsolete into new, appealing catalysts for healthy urban development. Drawing from these precedents, I pushed the concept of infratecture to propose a program of hybrid multi-use infrastructures embodying many of the best elements of good architecture including human-scale uses, spaces, and locally compatible forms and materials. The ground level remains the domain of people, plants and lighter uses, while overhead the city’s crosstown mobility needs can carry on befitting the twenty-first century.

As with the valuable transit service above, the space below is continuous and can provide rain-protected, illuminated places for bikeways, running paths, trees, planted landscapes, water elements, kiosks, shops, pop-ups, public services and even art installations. Testing these ideas in a variety of climates, I identified how the supporting structure could serve double duty as space defining architecture or a shade protection or carrying cooling misters in hot climates.  Providing such multiuse infrastructure carrying this and other citywide services like parcels can flip the historic legacy of such single-use insertions into the city of dividing communities and numbing the areas along them, to become paths of connection, attraction and vitality. Station locations will become a nexus of local activity and the corridor shifts from transient to resident, localized, intensified and enriched. These station areas always hold the promise of energizing neighborhoods.

With this rich set of options and many more potentially around the corner, the question remains: Who’s going to make room for this? In this land of the sacred automobile lanes, these questions would historically be non-starters, but given the continued successes of Paris’ and other cities’ transformations from the reallocation of spaces devoted to cars in favor of multi-use, people spaces continue to be validated in numerous ways. Perhaps the once blasphemous notions of lane diets and expanded cycling, pedestrian and green space will also allow room for new, innovative transit options in our cities’ streets. The exciting opportunity presented by new mass transportation technologies is to leverage their lower costs, and reduced space needs to improve urban mobility while increasing room for enhancements to make our urban corridors desirable spaces unto themselves. The physical aspects of infrastructure, the tectonics, therefore can be seen as a positive creator of new spaces, facilitator of connections, energizer of places if we only shift our thinking and widen our lens.

photo credit, Iwan Baan, 2012.

photo credit, Iwan Baan, 2012.

24 hours with a Global Imagemaker

May 7, 2018

Iwan Baan will probably never become a household name outside of the architecture profession, but he might just be playing an instrumental role in getting a few architects a good bit closer to that status.  You see, though he describes himself as just a photographer, it has been his focus on architecture over the past 10 years in his own distinctly real life-oriented manner which has made him the most sought after architecture photographer in the world.  So when the chance to lend him a hand in photographing a small, very unusual home in Mill Valley, I couldn’t pass it up.  

I really only barely knew his name. I had no clue where he was from or his background, only the frequency which I encountered it in architecture books and magazines from around the world.  The name always sounded exotic, in my mind an imaginary colleague of Pico Ayer. What I knew very well, however were the names of his clients - the world’s A-list of starchitects from Europe and Asia: OMA, SANAA, Zaha Hadid and even the new headliners like Pritzker prize winner Chinese architect Wan Shu and Japanese architect Sou Fujimoto. My introduction to Iwan came from a friend, architect Koji Tsutsui, who has joined that long line like so many others, not by asking but by being asked.  Iwan told me he turns down 90% of the inquiries he receives. In this position, he can choose the projects and people that interest him.  

Iwan first encountered Koji when he photographed some AIDS-health clinics in Africa that resulted from an open international competition.  Koji had been one of the winning designers.  Iwan contacted Koji to see if he had other projects.  As it happened, Koji was just finishing a home in the Japanese mountain resort of Karuizawa.  Soon, while Iwan was in Japan working on some other new buildings, he visited the new house.

Iwan has a keen eye for recognizing work that has a major impact on the current ideas of contemporary architecture.  A few weeks later when he was in New York meeting with the editors at Architectural Record, they asked if he had other works to share.  When he showed them the results of his session in Karuizawa, what they saw was a moody, almost sentimental portrait of a small house in the woods that so impressed them that they would ultimately put it on the cover of the magazine’s Record Houses edition. Iwan continues to be a be fan of Koji’s work and asked him to let him know if he creates any new buildings.  So, when Koji had nearly finished his own house in Mill Valley, an idiosyncratic composition of a gray boxes, clustered together twisting as they descend down the steeply sloped, heavily wooded site, he wrote Iwan and soon they were planning for his visit.

Shooting was delayed by a day when an airport workers’ strike in Rome delayed Iwan’s departure forcing him to miss his connection in Paris. That didn’t seem to be a problem because Iwan went right to work as soon as he arrived from the airport in the afternoon.  Iwan’s departure date wasn’t going to change and the sun continued its determined track across the sky towards evening, so the schedule would become very compressed and every minute would count.

Baan in pursuit of his signature aerial shot.

Baan in pursuit of his signature aerial shot.

He got out of the car from the airport looking almost like Russell Brand - tall, scruffy beard and collar-length hair, leather jacket, jeans and biker boots, just like his near rockstar reputation might suggest, but he also possessed an appealingly calm charm about him- very pleasant, unrushed and modest. After very brief introductions, he pulled a camera from his duffle and began walking around the house and climbing through the surrounding trees looking for interesting views and taking shots from four or five locations. He chatted casually all the while he was moving about looking intensely at the house. Within an hour however, he was back in the car with Google Maps as his guide on his way to Hayward where he had hired a helicopter for one hour to allow him to photograph the building from above saying it was the only way to see the entire house and understand its composition.  

The author and a friend enjoying the view over the Mill Valley House, by Koji Tsutsui. photo courtesy, Iwan Baan, 2012.

The author and a friend enjoying the view over the Mill Valley House, by Koji Tsutsui. photo courtesy, Iwan Baan, 2012.

After waiting nearly an hour, we could faintly hear the sound of the helicopter approaching, scanning, searching for the house nestled nearly hidden amidst the dense trees.  When he found us, he began a series of passes over the house that lasted maybe 10 minutes and, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone. And again we waited. He finally made it back to the house through some typical Bay Area rush hour traffic by 6:30 with the sun setting fast. But again, without a moment’s delay, Iwan calmly sought out some positions on the west side that were still getting some shafts of direct light through the trees and resumed shooting.    As the sun continued downward, the shafts of light disappearing, Iwan pulled out the tripod to use his exposure settings to squeeze a few more shots before the light was gone.  He finally took the last shots of the day perched high up on a tall ladder with his tripod gingerly braced on the steps, the darkening blue sky reflecting off the pools of water on the roofs of each of the gray boxes as they twisted and descended down the hill.  

With the sun now long gone and our appetites fully engaged we sat down with Iwan for some pizza and beers.  Iwan is from Amsterdam and speaks English with that familiar Dutch accent with a soft, almost shy delivery.  He confessed that he doesn’t know anything about architecture, but that he has been taking pictures his entire life since he first picked up a camera at 12.  Perhaps it is his non-architect’s point of view that leads Iwan to see landscapes, buildings and public spaces as inhabited and indeterminate and not pure formal compositions.  Publishers certainly appreciate his approach.  He is so busy he only visits his Amsterdam flat 2 or 3 days a month. The rest of the time he is moving around the globe from one new major architectural work to another.  The overwhelming sentiment that came through while he spoke of his head-spinning global travel schedule and his favorite architects was that of gratitude, a modest appreciation for being able to pursue his interest and make a living at the same time. We continued to talk about the personalities and challenges he faces until 10 or so when the jet lag seemed to finally catch up with him. We grudgingly let him go to bed.  The first light was due at 6 the next morning and he wasn’t going to waste any of it.  He was due to leave the next afternoon for New York and more appointments with the publishers.  Driving home with my friend Laura, we could only marvel at his mellow personality, intense global schedule and the rare chance we’d been able to share with one of the great artistic talents working in the world.

The shy photographer. photo: author, 2013.

Tags IwanBaan, Architecture Photography
Kengo Kuma and the author in his Tokyo office.

Kengo Kuma and the author in his Tokyo office.

Kengo Kuma

May 7, 2018

Kengo Kuma splits his time between professional practice and academia. He began his practice in the early 90‘s with a small office in Tokyo; his practice is now over 150 employees with offices in Tokyo and Paris, and projects in Europe, the US, and China. Kuma balances the demands of his global practice with his academic pursuits, heading the Kuma Lab at Tokyo University where he tests his theoretical speculations before applying them in real-world scenarios. Enrolled in the Lab are 10 PhD students and 5 or 6 Masters students, the majority of which come from abroad. The PhD students come with the aim to develop their own ideas in collaboration with Kuma, but often end up exploring topics that Kuma himself is researching, such as digital experimentation and fabrication.

Kuma’s international focus is a new direction within a longstanding Japanese architectural tradition that values the dual professional and academic career. In the 20th century, this tradition was earmarked by the office of Kenzo Tange, whose practice produced the generation of Japanese architects that came of age during the bubble years, and who defined contemporary Japanese architecture on the global stage. Two generations later, Kuma is shifting his focus beyond Japan to pursue the role of the universal designer who is informed, but not bound by, his native culture.

Kuma was born in Yokohama City and educated in nearby Kamakura. He completed graduate studies at the University of Tokyo Faculty of Engineering (Department of Architecture) in 1979. There he studied under Yoshichika Uchida and Hiroshi Hara, the latter well-known for his design for the Kyoto Train station. While a student, Kuma also interned in the office of Fumihiko Maki, which may have encouraged his global perspective. Another influential teacher in this regard is the architect Yoshinobu Ashihara, who studied both at Tokyo University and at Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design. After a research fellowship in New York at Columbia University, Kuma founded Kengo Kuma and Associates. Major creations include “Water/Glass” (winner of the AIA’s Benedictus Award) and the “Noh Stage in the Forest/Tomemachi Traditional Arts Folklore Hall” in Miyagi Prefecture (winner of the Architectural Institute of Japan Prize).

Portland Japanese Garden Visitor Center

Portland Japanese Garden Visitor Center

The following interview with Kengo Kuma was conducted by architect Paul Jamtgaard on November 12th, 2012 at Tokyo University in Tokyo, Japan.

PJ: Kuma sensei, it’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for taking time to talk with me. I have so many questions about your work, but let me start simply by asking about your practice and the extraordinary changes your firm has experienced in the past few years. Your firm has become highly sought after on the global stage, receiving larger and larger commissions, so my first question is this: How do you think about scale, and more specifically, how do you approach the transition between the scale of the building and the scale of city?

KK: Our approach to every project is consistent regardless of scale. Twenty years ago, our staff was around 15 to 20 people. We now have 150 people worldwide, with 120 in our Tokyo office alone—nearly a tenfold growth in 20 years. However, our method is basically the same as before—as is my desire to control nearly every detail. But the fact is, I can’t. In this regard, communication technology has been good for the practice. During my frequent travels, the staff can easily send me images, drawings, and notes, where twenty years ago, they had to fax drawings to my hotel. The faxes were very difficult to read and often had very bad image quality. Current technologies also enable me to talk with the younger staff, which I like, since I don’t want to create hierarchy–I just want to talk with the man who is really in charge of the project. I have the phone numbers of every one of my staff, with whom I talk directly.

PJ: And they know you have them. (Kuma laughs)

KK: Yeah, at midnight or in the early morning, I try to call them to talk with them. And site visits and mock-up check-ins are also very important in our method, for maintaining quality. I myself go to the sites, including to Europe once a month, to China twice a month, and to the States every 2 months, where we have a project in Portland (the Washington Park Japanese Garden Visitors’ Buildings) and New York (the China Center project). Whenever I go to Europe, I will visit Marseille, where our Conservatory of Aix-en-Provence is now under construction.

PJ: Oh boy.

KK: But, it’s not necessary that I stay the whole day. In Aix-en-Provence, I usually stay two hours. Communication and transportation technology allow me to do this.

PJ: And thereby to have a truly global practice. My next question relates to the role of scale in your new book, Patterns and Layering, which was edited by some of the students in your Lab. Your recent work utilizes a great deal of repetition: of elements, spaces, surfaces, etc. Is repetition itself important to your ideas, to your architecture?

KK: Yes, repetition is very important, but not just in terms of design. Basically, it is deeply related to program of the project. From a very early stage, I want to find the appropriate skin for the building. I think of it like the human skin, which is a single system that covers the body. There are localized differences but ideally, the outside of a building is a single skin. Repetition is very important for creating the cellular system that makes up a single skin building.

PJ: Yes, a cellular system. An interesting aspect of the skin metaphor is that some parts of the body are very sensitive, like the finger tips, whereas the areas covering the back are not sensitive at all, as needed. But it’s still one system. It seems as if the various program needs of a building could be responded to through variations in the skin system while maintaining its unity.

KK: Yes, yes.

PJ: This is a question more about you: do you consider yourself more of a modern architect who is exploring traditional Japanese ideas or are you more of a traditional Japanese builder exploring a modern world?

KK: I think I am basically a modern architect. Sometimes I get hints from Japanese traditional architecture, but I also get hints from Chinese traditional architecture, or from classical European architecture. But it’s always just a hint, and provides the freedoms, and not the restraints, from these traditions. When I was studying, some of my influential teachers were Professors Yoshinobu Ashihara, Fumihiko Maki and Hiroshi Hara. But I also learned from architects like Yoshida Isoya and Minoru Tekeyama, whose values were based upon apprenticeship and generational succession. That system still exists. After school, I was able to step out of that system, which was very good for me. Before going to New York in 1985, I wasn’t so interested in traditional Japanese architecture. But when I studied at Columbia, where I made many friends, I began to think about how I identify myself, what I could do in that society, and who I was as an architect. In New York I had the chance to talk about Japanese architecture with my New York friends. Only after my New York experience did I begin to study Japanese history and Japanese landscape design, and look at Japan from the outside.

PJ: In a sense, you became a representative of Japanese architecture simply by virtue of being Japanese, and that role compelled you to delve into it, but from the outside looking in. Looking back at the early years of your practice, I see you exploring many different ideas. Some projects are distinctly postmodern in their sampling of icons and forms from classical architecture, but these seem to have passed rather quicky. Was there one project along the way that inspired you or helped you define your own approach to architecture that has continued today?

KK: The postmodern period was very important for me, emphasizing the importance of history through that approach to design. And in New York, at Columbia I had very good teachers such as Robert Stern, and others.

PJ: You were there for two years?

KK: One year. Of course, there also was Kenneth Frampton, who was not a post-modernist, but who taught me the importance of history. I had very good teachers there.

PJ: It’s funny, but during the time when you were in New York, I was here in Japan for the first time. For me, it was also a very defining experience to look at architecture from a new point of view. Could you tell me a little more about your new visitors’ center at the Portland Japanese Gardens?  What is the status now?

KK: We were selected by competition 3 years ago, but fund-raising is not easy. We are finally reaching the goal. I will be going to Portland in January to have a kick-off party with the local architects and the local foundation.

PJ: I am from Portland, so I am particularly interested in your progress on this project. Is the conceptual design finished at this point?

KK: After the submission of the competition design, we didn’t continue with design development. The conditions changed and they were waiting for more funding and more public support. We also felt there should be some changes to the function, things like that.

PJ: So you’re working with a local architect in Portland?

KK: Yes, the committee from Portland selected Tom Hacker’s office, and we already had an interview with them. They are a very good office and have been a solid partner in this process.

PJ: Is there a type of building that you have not done that you would like to do?

KK: Perhaps a church.

PJ: Some people would say you already do them.

KK: We’ve designed temples and a shrine, but never a church. When I was young, I went to a catholic school for junior high school and high school. It was a Jesuit school called Eiko Gakuin, in Kamakura. The experience of the church and the monastery was very unique for me. Sometimes I stayed for days in the monastery, meditating. And that was a great experience—very different from a Japanese architectural experience, and one that I would want to design.

PJ: That would be great to see. Now this question is rather broad, but increasingly central to practice: How does sustainability guide or inform your design thinking?

KK: Sustainability is an appreciation for time; it is less about energy savings than it is about designing the future of the building. I am always thinking about a building’s lifetime and the lives of the people using it. In the 20th century, architects only thought about the completion date, with all its pictures and the big opening. That was the goal of the project. In traditional Japanese architecture, the completion date is not a special day, since the architecture is always changing. As a child, my father always wanted to change some part of my house. My family is not a rich family, but even for an average family we were always wanting to change some things. Our house was an evolving, living thing.

PJ: That idea reminds me of a book about urban design called “Built for Change,” by a professor at the University of Washington named Anne Vernez Moudon. It’s a terrific book that very much echoes this idea of designing for changing needs. The approach of using small scale, repeated elements allows for incremental changes that can be carried out by non-specialists. Like a skin’s cellular composition, damaged parts can heal or grow as needed.

KK: Yes, yes. I got a hint of this idea from traditional Japanese buildings. You know Horyuji temple?  It’s the oldest wooden building in Japan, but it’s actually in an ongoing state of rejuvenation through the replacement of its smaller elements, allowing it to maintain its wholeness over time. That is the smartness of the Japanese system.

PJ: There is a relatively new idea in science that every cell in our bodies changes every couple of years, so although we think we are the same being, we have been constantly changing over time.

KK: Yes, yes. This is true. The element that remains the same is the soul, the identity of the building. This is the element I try to realize in my buildings.

In Interview Tags Japan, Kengo Kuma

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