The Art of Building Lightly

An Interview with Shigeru Ban

By Martin Moeller

Blueprint Fall 2006
Volume XXIV, No. 4

The term “paper architect” is often used to describe one whose work is mostly theoretical, with little experience in actually getting projects built.  In the case of Shigeru Ban, the moniker could be equally apt, but for a very different reason.  The Japanese architect has become famous worldwide for his “paper tube” structures.  Made of what we would more typically call cardboard, these tubes have surprising strength and durability, and Ban has used them to create a variety of delicate, even fragile-looking buildings that are in fact extremely sturdy.

While his use of paper tubes began before the current green design movement really took off, Ban is well regarded by many environmentalists because of the inherent sustainability of his projects, which rely on materials with low embodied energy and use common-sense strategies to take advantage of natural light and ventilation.  In this interview, conducted before his public lecture at the National Building Museum on [DATE], Ban shares his views on green design, post-disaster construction, and the architectural culture of his native Japan.     

Martin Moeller: Do you consider yourself a “green architect?”

Shigeru Ban: I started developing the paper tube structures in 1986, when people were not talking very much about recycling, ecology, and sustainability. But the truth is that I just didn't want to waste material—it’s as simple as that. And then the so-called fashion of sustainability or “green” came afterwards in the 1990's, and so I was put under the label of “environment-friendly architect,” but that is not my strategy. I just want to use any material where it is.

MM: And yet those are all important elements of sustainable design:  using locally available materials, using them wisely, and minimizing waste. 

SB: Well, when they made [sustainability a goal] for the Japanese pavilion at the Hannover Expo [YEAR], I was chosen by the government because I had been building out of recycled paper. So they were expecting me to design the building out of recycled material. Usually when an architect designs a building, the ultimate goal of the design process is the completed building. But my ultimate concern as a designer was not the completion, but the demolition. Most expo pavilions are built to stand for six months and then we dismantle them and we create lots of waste. That is the problem of an expo pavilion. So, that's why I wanted to design the building out of recycled material—but also I wanted to reuse or recycle most of the building materials after the building was demolished.

So I started working with the local manufacturer to have the structure recycled [after the expo], and not only the paper structure, but also the foundation. Concrete is a difficult material to recycle, so I made wooden boxes filled with sand as a foundation instead of concrete. The general contractor didn't like the idea, but that is what I did. So, that was the first time I designed something with sustainability as a strategy of the design.

MM:  Like the expo pavilion, many of your most famous projects were designed to be temporary. Do you have a particular interest in buildings that are intended to exist for only a short time? 

SB: First of all, for me there is no difference between permanent structures and temporary structures; it's all the same for me. Even a temporary structure has to be safe; you have to make sure it can become permanent if it stands for longer than expected—it depends on the function of the project and also whether people love the building or not. For example, even a concrete building or a steel building can be temporary. During the so-called “bubble” period in Japan, many developers would buy land and destroy the existing building to make a new one, so they were throwing out [entire structures].

But the church I built after the Kobe earthquake in 1995 made out of cardboard tubes—paper tubes—became permanent, because people loved it and it became a symbol of the city.  And so it was there for ten years. Then they moved it to Taiwan, where they also had an earthquake in 1999. So even the paper structure can become permanent and even a concrete structure can be very temporary. So, there's no difference for me between temporary and permanent.

MM: You once said that you actually prefer to use “weak” materials. 

SB: First of all, it's not only weak. It's just that I always try to use any available material, whatever is available. Usually for buildings we use only concrete, steel, wood, and brick.  But whatever is around us—even glass, plastic, paper—anything can be a structural material. 

For most of the projects I did in the beginning of my career, I didn't have a big budget for the building, so always I had to use inexpensive material—or something around us. And I also like to use the material where it is. Historically engineers have been developing structures to make everything stronger—the structures have become more acrobatic and high tech. But even using a weak material where it is, we can build the structure just like any other structure, as long as we test the material and we calculate and we develop it further. Anything can be a building material. Also, when engineers develop some new material or new structural system, new architecture can come out of that. Otherwise we would just be repeating styles of the past.

I want to develop my own structures—unique structures—instead of following or copying other styles or architects. 

MM: Using new and untried materials can be very difficult for a variety of reasons. Often there are building codes and nervous clients who prevent experimentation in building designs. How do you get over those challenges in order to ensure that the building is completed according to your design?

SB: Well, I always work with a specialist, engineer, and consultant from the very beginning. And since I've been using the unusual materials for structures, I always have to get government permission by showing the testing data and calculations. So, I have a different engineer depending on the type of structure.And also I have a testing engineer.  So, this collaboration is very important and I start choosing the appropriate consultant and engineer from the beginning of the project.

MM: Some of your earliest projects were designs for exhibitions, which are temporary and of course often have very limited budgets. Does that early experience continue to inform your work?

SB: I started designing exhibitions because I didn't have any working experience as an architect. I had just started my own practice immediately after I graduated from university.  So, the only thing I could do was design exhibitions. Even after I got some small commissions to design houses, always the budgets were very low. So, I always had to use raw materials interestingly.

So, you are right—working at designing exhibitions really did help me to develop this kind of idea further.

MM: You have designed temporary shelters for the victims of natural disasters. As you know, we had a terrible disaster—Hurricane Katrina—here in the United States last year.  Governmental agencies have had difficulty providing shelter to the people who were displaced. How have you worked with political agencies to ensure that your designs get built and people are actually housed?

SB: First of all, I created [my own] so-called NGO, or non-governmental organization. Besides when I was working for United Nations High Commissioner for refugees in Rwanda, I have never worked directly for a government. 

For the architect, it's impossible to provide 100,000 houses for the majority of the victims of a natural disaster. But what I can do is look for some minority people who have a particular problem. For example, in Kobe, the government built temporary houses outside the city, because there was land [there].  And some of the Vietnamese refugees who had just been accepted by the government ten years ago could not move into the government temporary housing because they had only worked in a particular factory not in that area, and if they would leave their original place they would lose their jobs. That's why they had to keep sleeping in their very small apartments covered with plastic sheets. So, then I found that I could solve their particular problems by making a shelter for them. 

And sometimes I'm going against government policy. Even Kobe—the government didn't want us to continue building temporary houses. And there were local neighborhood people who tried to kick them out of the park, because they were afraid the park was turning into a slum.

But I think we needed to build temporary houses for them because they could not move into the common housing. So I went to the city to ask permission but they said no. But the person whom I met—I was very lucky, because he [ignored] what I was doing. So, sometimes I do like the guerilla method—just do it and prove how good [the results] are. City officials [are always] so strict and they don't want to make any exceptions. But sometimes we need exceptions, but without showing how good [such projects can be], it's impossible to convince them, that's why I just do it without permission, even against the government policy. This is what I've been doing in Kobe, Turkey, India, or in Sri Lanka.

MM: How much has the traditional architectural culture of Japan influenced your work?

SB: I have an office in Tokyo and my nationality is Japanese, but all my architecture education is from the United States. So, it's very difficult to say [whether] I am an American architect or a Japanese architect. Also now I'm working in many different countries.

Some people always ask me, “Because you're a Japanese architect you use paper?” But we don’t have any culture of using paper as a structural element in Japanese architecture.  We just use the paper as a screen. For me the paper tube structural system is more like [ancient] Greek architecture proportionally, so it really has nothing to do with Japanese culture.

MM: How does the contemporary architectural culture of Japan differ from that of the United States?

SB: In Japan, even middle class people often hire architects to design their own houses. That doesn't happen as much in the United States, Europe, and developing countries, where only the rich people hire architects to build big houses! Even middle class people have hired architects to design interesting, but small houses. And that is a very interesting opportunity for young architects to develop themselves. 

And also the Japanese lifestyle is still very flexible. Traditionally we don't heat the whole house, we just heat wherever people eat and work—also we heat the space only when people are awake. When we sleep we stop all the heating.

Japanese people have more flexibility over their lifestyles and also, depending on the generation, the lifestyle is totally changing. Like my grandparents’ generation—they have to have a tatami, Japanese mat, to sleep on the floor. And my parents’ generation, they had to have both a western style room and also tatami floor mats. In my generation, the tatami floor mat has become just a symbol. We cannot live in that kind of lifestyle any more. So the lifestyle is constantly changing.

And also we don't have the strong liability that you have. We don't sue each other! So that really gives us more freedom to do something experimental.

MM: In Japan, there is a very strong tradition of cooperation throughout a project among the architect, the engineer, the client, and the contractor that doesn't exist here in the United States. Is it easier to produce a good building in Japan than in America?

SB: Actually, it's true. It's easier to create the better building [in Japan]. First of all, contractors there have very good craftsmanship and skill. Always we depend on trust, not on contractual agreements. Always we try to keep a good relationship with the client. 

If you do an experimental building, it is likely that there will be some problems afterwards. But as long as I keep a good relationship with the client and as long as the client likes the house, it's no problem—we just have to fix it. And we never sue each other! And the contractor is usually very helpful in suggesting how to help us [solve the problems that arise].

Since I started working in other countries, I always feel that architects in Japan enjoy broad public support because of this. And with Japanese clients, not only for the residential projects, they try to build what you designed. However, in other countries, even if I have won a competition, it's not easy to realize what I designed. Always there's a big debate and I have to convince the client and the contractor little by little. And also the contractors are not as helpful as Japanese contractors.

In Japan, it's much easier, so we are really spoiled.

 

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