Architecture and Urbanism 11:07

Thinking About Architecture After the Earthquake

Public Discussion on Architecture in Tokyo:

In response to the Great Eastern Japan Earthquake on March 11th, a public group discussion was organized by Shinkenchikusha, sister company of a+u, with the participation of exhibitors of the emerging project 2011 exhibition (March 128, 2011 Yoshioka Library). The discussion was held on April 7th at the Yoshioka Library (design by Akihisa Hirata Architecture Office), which located on the ground floor of the Shinkenchiku-shas office in Tokyo. Participants: Kumiko Inui (Architect, Office of Kumiko Inui) Akihisa Hirata (Architect, Akihisa Hirata Architecture Office) Jo Nagasaka (Architect, Schemata Architecture Office) Kentaro Takeguchi and Asako Yamamoto (Architects, Alphaville) Kazuhide Doi (Architect, Kazuhide Doi Architects) Kazuyasu Kochi (Architect, Kochi Architects Studio) Ienari Toshikatsu (Architect, dot Architects) Teppei Fujiwara (Architect, Kengo Kuma and Associates, Teppei Fujiwara Architects Labo) Osamu Nishida and Erika Nakagawa (Architects, ON Design) Ryuji Fujimura (Architect, Ryuji Fujimura Architects) Go Hasegawa (Architect, Go Hasegawa & Associates) Kenichiro Ide (Architect, rhythmdesign) Shingo Masuda and Katsuhisa Otsubo (Architects, Shingo Masuda + Katsuhisa Otsubo)

After the earthquake, I think that many of us are troubled by the question of what one person can do and thinking about the relationship between the earthquake and our normal work. There are no answers to these questions, but we planned this discussion on the premise that some progress might be made if we could get together to discuss our thoughts and their implications not only for the profession of architecture but also in a wider context. I would like to start by asking about your thoughts now. Architecture and cities that allow people to feel safe Akihisa Hirata: Ever since the earthquake I have been thinking about the feeling of security and what kinds of security architecture could provide. On the day when it struck, I had to use an emergency stairway to walk down from a tall building. It was quite a scary experience. In this country, we have to assume that earthquakes will happen. My feeling on that day was that we need to rethink architecture and cities in a fundamental way, so that people can feel safer than they do now. For a few days after the earthquake, the television was showing maps of Japan with tsunami warnings as bands of red up and down the coastline. Looking at those images, I realized once again how Japan is connected as one country. I think those images gave everyone a strong visual impression of the scale you are using when you measure events in units of a country. Up to now, architects have not been used to discussing events on the scale of a country, and I feel that we need to rethink that. We experienced the Great Hanshin Earthquake 15 years ago and the basic stance behind the recovery effort at that time was to restore things to the way they were. The crucial difference this time is that things can never go back to they way they were. First, we have to ask whether returning to a former state is even meaningful. When we say recovery, where do we start thinking about it? No one can say in a few words. I think we need discussions among ourselves to think about it, but who should we give the message to? Where should we talk? It is frustrating to not know even that much. I have always thought that architects should have more social influence if they want to participate in discussions on the national level, but now I feel that more than ever. A world without everyday security Kumiko Inui: In the face of the enormous devastation, I have to say I dont know how to sort out my feelings. I have no idea what I am supposed to do, but I cant help feeling strongly that I should do something. My emotions are getting out in front of everything else. Dating from the day of the earthquake, I feel like we have come to the end of the time when we could talk about architecture on the basis of the assumption that safe and

secure everyday life would continue. From now on, unless we assume that fears and sorrow and other negative aspects exist, we will fall short of the reality of architecture. That is how much the world has changed, in my opinion. In the coverage of the earthquake in the media, there were many stories about the community as a force for self-help. Local case workers are a good example. It was a reminder of how important they are. Including the community is something that we find it hard to do in our normal design work, but I think it is important for us to think more about how to do that. Urban recovery will be a massive undertaking. Weak control is a special characteristic of urban planning in Japan, and land usage is left largely to the market. So cities metabolize under their own power, almost like an ecological system. From one standpoint I think it has been possible to take a favorable view of this model, but my impression is that the earthquake revealed its negative aspects. Market-based land use inevitably tends to be biased toward the short term. It is impossible to delegate preparations for disasters that occur only once over a span longer than a lifetime to market-based land use. It was a reminder how important it is to take a long-term viewpoint in city planning. I think the nuclear issue has complicated the disaster. Judging from reports in the media, I think it is a symbol for Japanese technology our technology is excellent for building things, but expertise in operations seem less developed. When a problem occurs, the response is a step too late. This is not limited to Tokyo Electric Power Company or the government. I think that everyday architecture has similar structural problems. Disaster recovery = Recovery of the Japanese archipelago Ryuji Fujimura: I was born in 1976 and grew up in the rapidly developing landscape of the 1980s. Until I entered the university, I thought that cities should be planned and that I would plan them. The Great Hanshin Earthquake happened in 1995, just before I entered the university, and then came the IT revolution. Since then, we hear less about urban planning and more about community development. The age of hardware is supposed to be over, and now we are supposed to be in the age of software. I have a feeling that 2011 will mark the start of another era, even more than 1995. Recovery in the disaster stricken regions is something that society as a whole will have to think about, but in my opinion disaster recovery will be a reconstruction of the Japanese archipelago. It is clear that the Japanese archipelago as a whole harbored various structural problems even before the earthquake. As part of my work on the Roundabout Journal, I have been thinking about the importance of the concept of redesigning the entire country. Now, although no one intended it, the disaster is

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Opposite: Discussion on April 7 in the Yoshioka Library. This page, above: Akihisa Hirata. This page, below: From right to left, Kumiko Inui, Jo Nagasaka, Erika Nakagawa. All photos on pp. 112118 by Nao Takahashi / Shinkenchiku-sha.

Feature: Timber Innovation + OMA Hong Kong Public Discussion on Architecture in Tokyo: Thinking About Architecture After the Earthquake

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bringing this problem to the fore again. In the 1920s, national planning was discussed from the viewpoint of national defense, and Hideaki Ishikawa proposed his living sphere concept. In the high-growth era of the 1960s, Eiichi Isomura published his Megalopolis in Japan (1969, Nihon Keizai Shimbunsha), and economic development was carried out under the influence of Prime Minister Kakuei Tanakas Building a New Japan: A Plan for Remodeling the Japanese Archipelago (1972). As for current national planning, it represents a retreat. One way to look at this disaster is to say that it occurred after growth ended and society had begun to move toward contraction, when we began searching for a future image of the country. I believe that what is called for now is urban planning and land use design concepts on the macro level of national planning, with the same urgency as in the 1920s and 1960s. These are questions without immediate answers, but I think that by encouraging discussions among specialists across various fields, a vision will gradually emerge, and actions will be born. We need to recall that at one time there were debates over urban design concepts on the level of national land use planning. As architects, we can take those national land use concepts and gradually scale them down, finally arriving at specific works of architecture. I think that is the key if architects want to propose convincing visions of the nation, cities, and architecture.
Below (Fig. 1): Evacuation perimeter, for the Fukushima nuclear power plant, replace with the Tokyo Metropolitan area. Image courtesy of Schemata Architecture Office. Opposite: Osamu Nishida, second from right.

think about it. For example, we could set up barricades. If it is forbidden to cross the barricades, no towns will develop around that area. If we really intend to restore those places, we will have to pay close attention to the limits. To take an extreme example, suppose we moved national government functions to Fukushima. We would have to define strict regulations for different areas. Entry would be forbidden in some places, but not in others. These places would be side by side, and that is the environment we would have to deal with. The nuclear problem is only one example. From now on, architects will have to set limits of some kind. Since the disasters, I have started to think like that. Sharing doubts about what we thought we knew Erika Nakagawa: ON Design submitted a project called new window/bright wall for this exhibition. Normally we think we know what a window is. But in fact, the idea of a windows implies various meanings and roles. The starting point for this project was the feeling that we would discover something new if we concentrated on those implicit meanings and roles and carefully unraveled them. In design, we always try to honor that attitude of doubting what we think we know. By force, this disaster immediately created a situation across a broad geographic area in which things that we took for granted no longer exist. People who normally never think about things like that were forced to share a situation where everyone must doubt what we never doubted before. I feel like this is a very special situation. After the earthquake, I was talking to a client who is very particular about equipment and appliances. She told me Now I dont understand why I was always so obsessed with the kitchen. That made an impression on me. A disaster is a situation that brings home what it means to live. I feel that all over Japan, everyone has been forced to confront the life patterns, spaces, and environments that are tied so directly to living. Also, for example, coming together may be tied directly to living. In other words, people may begin coming together to live, like animals that move in groups. From now on, as we come to realize that, we may discover that it is necessary to think more about the environment and communities, and think seriously about what each of can do now. Osamu Nishida: Shortly before the earthquake, I was summoned for a design competition in the city of Nobeoka in Miyazaki Prefecture (Nobeoka Station Area Design Director Proposal). It was about the rather special position of design director, with responsibilities to coordinate a variety of projects related to community development. It involves the encouragement of processes to share developments in public spaces and infrastructure, which architects have not handled up to now. Instead of only creating things, the idea is to get involved while sharing ideas and initiatives. To me this was a fresh and attractive approach, and I had the feeling that it was going to become a standard way of doing things. Then the earthquake happened. In the recovery, when working on urban development and infrastructure, I think what we need is a wideranging, multidisciplinary discussion. Instead of government leadership, I think we need to verbalize ideas through dialogs
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Setting limits Jo Nagasaka: Since the earthquake there is no lack of information, including the information floating around on twitter, but people are confused because they dont know what is correct. But I think that is a very healthy phenomenon. Even if there is only one truth, there is no such thing as a correct answer, because the truth changes depending on how it is said. That kind of uneasy situation is born from the intersection of different value systems. This also goes for something on a scale as large as national land use planning. Instead of concentration in Tokyo, I think we need approaches that point in a number of different directions. Right now, what bothers me the most is the nuclear problem. We cant see where it is going. Frankly, I find it very scary. The evacuation area has a radius of 30 km. Recently, when I went to a site in Chiba, I drove around to get a sense of the scale of 30 km. It is large enough to encompass various towns and farms and buildings. If people were forbidden from entering this area, it would mean the same as robbing them of their memories and experiences. It was a fearful thought. For example, imagine an evacuation area with a radius of 30 km placed in the center of Tokyo (Fig. 1). It would stretch as far as the suburbs in Kanagawa, Saitama, and Chiba prefectures. The densities of Tokyo and Fukushima are different, but still we may lose a place with a considerable density in terms of its landscapes and the history of events that have occurred there. It is still unclear when the nuclear problems that are occurring now will settle down. But after they do settle down, we will no doubt have to set up limits of some kind to indicate that no one can enter the area beyond this point. Personally, the type of indication is extremely important to me and we should

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Above: Kazuhide Doi. Below (Fig. 2): Housing project for disaster by Alphaville.

between the public and private sectors and develop individual solutions in such a way that they belong to society, as public solutions. I think there is value in people sharing the richness of life and expanding the range of opportunities for open discussions, accumulating results and reaching out. How to engage with nature Kazuhide Doi: The earthquake motivated me to look back specifically on the work that I have done up to now. For example, the FLAP project in this exhibition is a very simple house. The wind blows according to the layout of land and flows into the rooms. The water flows gently through the site and curls around the building. As far as possible, the idea was to build it such that it would become part of the original terrain. For the flow of water, light, and air, I wanted to follow the rules of whatever was there already. I have always been interested in that. Put another way, I want to use energy and materials in a form that is as close as possible to the original, with a minimum of reworking. For example, instead of collecting the light that falls on the site into a duct and leading it up, I prefer to use it so that it inserts itself naturally, making the kind of place where people like to gather. I wanted to build it up by accumulating common sense operations like that, one by one, to that the result would fit the site. Conversely, I think that nuclear and thermal power generation is energy that has been processed with the most advanced technology, polished into something very sophisticated. But even though nuclear energy is the polar opposite of what I want to do, it doesnt mean that we can ignore it. This was the terrifying thing about the reports in the media. Even if we want to use energy without processing it, we would be lost if there was no stable supply of electricity from the power outlet in the wall. We do have energy that undergoes little processing, but it is prone to large swings, so that even though it is very friendly at some times, it is unreliable at other times. The disaster made me realize how dependent we are on highly processed energy from massive infrastructure like nuclear and thermal power plants. On the one hand, this leads to a feeling of powerlessness, but on the other it reminds us that we need to think more about ways to use energy effectively. When designing a building, the important thing when deciding how far to open the windows or how much wind to let in is your own bodily sensations, the experience of comfort. I was born and raised in Hiroshima, where the natural environment is relatively gentle. After growing up there, I tend to design buildings based on a strong feeling of trust in nature, or the idea that nature is something pleasant and we should try to receive as much of that pleasure as possible. But this disaster brought out the harsh side of nature and made wonder how to deal with it in the future. I felt that from now my designs will have to be more cautious, and that instead of simply reducing CO2, I will have to declare through each of the buildings that I design how much I myself understand about nature and how it should be handled. Toward lighter architecture Kentaro Takeguchi: About the Koyasan Simple Lodging Plan shown in this exhibition we have been thinking since the

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earthquake of March 11 about whether it cannot be improved to be made lighter and simpler. We have been interested in creating architecture with commercially available materials for some time now. Instead of architecture that requires a loan to be paid back over many years, we want to propose architecture that is very light and can be paid off quickly. For this project, we were originally asked to do a renovation. But our normal stance is that the vessel for human activities is finished when the structure is completed, so within the range of the renovation budget we started thinking about new construction. In the end it turned into a new construction project. The insulation panels were taken as the module unit, and we arranged commercial 24 dimensional lumber in a very narrow pitch. The narrow arrangement of the structural members allows the legs of the double beds to become part of the structure, and the very delicate framework lined up like a row of columns brings a certain kind of space into being. It use a simple framework and construction method, in such a way that completion of the structure equals completion of the architecture. We thought that this could be adapted for post-earthquake reconstruction housing, and created self-build type proposal (Fig. 2). It is simply a triangular roof structure comprised of 26 dimensional lumber, but we are aiming for permanent and not temporary housing. The final goal is for people to be able to download the drawings from the web and use them to obtain a construction permit. We are aiming for architecture that is simple, light, and buildable by anyone with materials costing less than a million yen. There is not a lot of land in the disaster areas where architecture can be built, and large sites are hard to find. Therefore, instead of a large volume of houses supplied by major housing manufacturers, we thought of a system under which people could build houses on the various sites that are available in the size they want. This is a bit different from our relationship to architecture up to now, and I think it may broaden the range of choices. I think that getting various people involved in the recovery in various ways and on various scales would enhance safety in cities. Asako Yamamoto: The starting point for our proposal for reconstruction housing was the Koyasan Simple Lodging Plan, and the end point was the idea of houses that people could build without depending on professionals. Houses are a large part of our work, and in the design stage we make a point of asking the client what they dont need. I live in Western Japan, so the earthquake has had almost no effect on my daily life. When we arrived in Tokyo, we were surprised for a moment to find that the station was dark. But it wasnt a gloomy kind of darkness. There was a soft light visible from the shops and at the ends of the passageways. I thought it was quite a nice atmosphere, and an opportunity to rethink the unquestioning way that we have been using things, including energy. From consultations with clients up to a sharing certain ideas on a national level, I think it would be good if we could consider some qualitative changes in our expectations.

Discovering the non-ordinary in the ordinary Shingo Masuda: The earthquake happened just as the first of our designs to be built was nearing completion and we were thinking that we had finally made a start in own approach to architecture. It is only a start and there are still many twists and turns ahead, but today I would like to talk about what we are thinking amongst ourselves. The other day, I saw that on March 22 the architectural journalist Toru Hosono had published an article on a recovery plan for the Sanriku area, which was devastated by the earthquake. He called it a Gusko Budori Plan (after the heroic scientist in the childrens story by Kenji Miyazawa). The area is surrounded by hills about 100 m high, and the idea is to shave more than 10 m off the tops of those hills, use the removed earth to create a green zone on the plain below, and move the town up to the top of the leveled-off hills. It is an extravagant plan, but I thought the good thing about it was that it was easy to understand. Whatever form they take, various recovery policies will be implemented in the disaster stricken areas. If giant seawalls are built, then the question becomes how these extraordinary seawalls will fit into the ordinary daily lives of the people who live there. Looking back on our designs on that basis, we recognize that space is made up of various different elements, for example wind, humidity, temperature, relations between people, and relations to other animals. We manipulate those elements to assemble a work of architecture. We think that there is a relation between people and the situation that results in which false interpretations cause the non-ordinary to be perceived as ordinary. For example, in our Monokage no Himukai project in the recent exhibition, the openings are objects like galleries or louvers that exist to enable an appropriate degree of air circulation. But the project looks like a large building with any number of small, depthless windows. Architecture that is too close to the human becomes only a tool, but architecture that has nothing human about it is too strong. The middle ground between these extremes is created by the misinterpretations of humans. Instead of following or being followed, we think it is important for architectural designs to achieve a paradoxical balance, where both sides benefit each other. The power to transcend principles Teppei Fujiwara: I would like to talk about a phase in architectural thought when confronted with a vast environment. First, I want to say something about the largest project that I was involved with at Kengo Kuma and Associates. It was an urban planning project of about 800 ha in the town of Xinjin, a suburb of Chengdu in China (Fig. 3). The town has an ambitious mayor who wanted to create an eco-city, and the project started when he commissioned a masterplan from MVRDV. That ran into difficulties, which led to a request to us to take those ideas and draw up a plan for a city where people create enjoy a rich and diversified culture. MVRDVs plan was very typical of their office, proceeding from basic principles. Once every 100 years, Xinjin has been struck by large floods. The idea was to build canals throughout the city.
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Top: Teppei Fujiwara on the middle. Middle: Question from an audience. Bottom (Fig. 3): Urban planning project of Xinjin, a suburb of Chengdu in China by Kengo Kuma and Associates. Image courtesy from Kengo Kuma and Associates.

Normally the canals would be dry, but when the 100-year flood came they would serve as escape routes for the water. Compared to the 30 km radius of the evacuation area after the nuclear accident, 800 ha may seem small. But for a single design team it is hopelessly large. So instead of designing the environment for the whole 800 ha, what we did was to design roads and plazas. Without designing any buildings, we asked what kind of experiences, functions and lifestyles would take place along each of the roads envisioned by MVRDV. What would be found at the end of the road? Our design started from the viewpoint of the ordinary life of the residents, for example by proposing parks where embankments and architecture could be part of a single experience. MVRDVs thinking about the landscape was guided by principles, based on observation data that said the water level would rise once every 100 years. But I think that even though you can plan for something that happens once every 100 years, getting the premises right is very difficult. Normally, in the early stages of a design, there is a discussion about how many years to assume as the cycle for a phenomenon. This is because the dimensions of the members vary depending on whether the cycle is set to 100 years or 50 years. For example, if the lifetime of a work of architecture is set to 50 years, and the cycle of a phenomenon is 50 years, then you might say that a thickness of 9 mm is enough for the curtain wall flat bar. In other words, you design the wall to withstand a disaster that might occur once in 50 years. But the recent tsunami was the largest ever observed in Japan and the largest in history unless you go back 1,000 years. Science derives principles by repeatability, so that a principle cannot be discovered until something has occurred several times. In that sense, this earthquake was only the second time. It may not be possible to derive the principle until the third or fourth time. We have entrusted ourselves to untested principles that will be understood only after tens of thousands of years. But a line must be drawn somewhere. When we remember that, it seems impossible for a single person or a single actor to derive principles and use them to paint a picture of ordinary life. We are faced with the question of which principles to adopt when making a design, and the question of whether it is enough to paint a picture of ordinary life based on those principles. In other words, the premise must be that when the principles are exceeded the result may be total loss. As a professional, this thought fills me with despair. Finally, now that premises themselves have collapsed, who is going to redesign the premises? Various reconstruction proposals have been advanced, but no one can say if they are really any good. It is a complex feeling thoughts going round and round in this kind of stalemate situation. This leads to the consensus that we need to get on with our ordinary life and make it as rich as possible. I think that all we can do is just keep doing the same things. One more thing that bothers me very much is that since the earthquake we hear a lot of talk in which the unit of thought is Japan. It is clear from books like Naoki Ishikawas photo collection Archipelago (Shueisha, 2009) that the Japanese archipelago is one area in a vibrant archipelagolike environment. The islands where we live are part of an

interconnected environment that stretches from South Asia to the Sea of Okhotsk and up to North America. For example, the environment in Taiwan is very similar to Japan, with the same tsunami and earthquake problems. I remember that it wasnt long ago that we were becoming used to thinking about the kind of culture we wanted to create from a different perspective, one that transcended national borders. I wonder what happened to that kind of thinking. Anthropological time and the joy of living Go Hasegawa: I have been thinking about mainly two things since March 11. One is time, and the other is life. The shocking things about this disaster are first the overwhelming shock of entire towns disappearing in the tsunami and secondly the shock of radiation from the nuclear accident. In an instant, these two threats have cost many people their homes and families. Time stopped and was erased. In the recovery that lies ahead, I think that the problem of dealing with this lost time will be a very hard one. According to Koji Takis Lived in Houses (Seidosha 1984), there are two kinds of architectural time. One is time lived by individuals, and the other is archaeological time. Time lived by individuals is ordinary daily life. This corresponds to all of the people who saw their way of life instantly destroyed in this disaster. But architecture has another time scale, one that moves in units of decades or centuries. For example, architectural styles can gradually change as a result of contact with foreign cultures. This is the archaeological time of architecture, and it may in the power of each one of us to contribute to these gradual changes. It is not about this or that individual work of architecture. It is, for example, about us continuing to think about the experience of this earthquake, considering a time up to decades in the future when cities may be different from the way they have been up to now. I want to think about the imagination of architecture on that kind of archaeological scale. Next, about life. Ever since the earthquake, I have been thinking about how architecture can approach the problem of the joy of living. When I see news reports on families that have lost their homes or families reunited in refugee shelters, I am reminded again that there is a strong and intimate connection between architecture is to human life. Immediately after the earthquake, the question was survival. But at some point life becomes hard if there is nothing to feel joyful about. I dont know whether this is a good example, but the cherry trees started blooming this week and arent they beautiful? Maybe there has never been a Spring when the cherry blossoms looked this beautiful. People are getting out for viewing parties under the cherry trees, and I think that those are the kind of spaces that are filled with joy. Not just the flowers but also the drooping branches and the sunlight that filters through I feel that the spaces beneath a cherry tree reverberates with the joy of life. Space has always had the power to move human emotions. In response to the earthquake, I have started to think that from now on I want each of my projects to be life-affirming and a space that resonates with the joy of life.

Systems to encourage independence Kenichiro Ide: I am always thinking about how to encourage independence. When I am working on a design, I try to think about how to get people to feel affection for a neighborhood, a building or a house to feel like this is mine. I feel that there may be more to learn about that from examples in developing countries than from practice in developed countries because the problems of developing countries are very clear (and in many cases a matter of life or death), and as such, there is much to learn. For example, UN-HABITAT (the United Nations Human Settlements Program) has programs in over 100 countries to support the construction of housing. They call their method the Peoples Process, which approaches building projects in terms of local systems and materials. They have local people improve the process, so that even after they leave the system will run itself according to what the residents want. Their process is very similar to what I mean by encouraging independence. On April 1 there was a discussion at the UN-HABITAT office in Fukuoka (Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific). A lecture had been scheduled since before the earthquake, but in response to the disaster the program was changed to a discussion on What Can We Do Now? At the meeting site there was a board listing major disasters since 1900, according to which almost half of the disasters that have occurred in the past 1,000 years have been in Japan. The other day I had a chance to talk with Toshiyasu Noda, the Director of HABITAT Fukuoka office, who told me that in fact there have been disasters in the past that were as large as this one. The problem is that this history of disasters could not be referenced. When you try to research this disaster, there is almost no information available online. The web sites of cities and prefectures are updated every two or three days, but the only information is the number of refugees or collapsed houses. It is very hard to find anything on the problems that are occurring now. As for radiation and the nuclear accidents, there is no information at all. I think the biggest problem is the lack of accurate information. Amongst the things that we should do going forward, I think that making accurate records is important. Normally we design things with form. But it is also important to design ways to pass along things without form, like information. HABITAT was also there when the Sumatra earthquake happened, entering the disaster areas and helping with the recovery. Up to now it has built 600,000 dwellings, all of them using the Peoples Process that I mentioned earlier. From the room layout to decisions about where to build, it is all up to what the residents want. One point in common with this disaster is that people who live along the coasts are mainly dependent on fishing for their livelihoods. It is unreasonable to ask them to move away from the sea. Whether people will return to where they lived before is up to them. HABITAT is there to support those decisions. I think that what we, as professional architects, should do to help the recovery in Tohoku is to support their decisions. I think various things aspects to be designed, including precise escape routes and accessible archives of various kinds of information.
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Changing architecture in the context of daily life Kazuyasu Kochi: The discussion up to now has touched on various scales, but I would like to talk about some things that struck me via events in our neighborhood. In Tokyo there was practically no direct damage from the earthquake, but our lives have changed. It is important to think about the disaster areas, but changes in the lives of people in other areas is also an important question. On the day of the earthquake I was at home, but the phone had stopped working so at first I didnt know what had happened. The neighbors were all just as flustered, so everyone wandered out into the street to talk with each other. Later I rode my bicycle over to the kindergarten to pick up my daughter. This is what happens when various things are not there anymore people get together to exchange information or move around under their own power, on a bicycle or in some other way. I think actions on that level are very important. Architecture has a role as shelter, but this made me appreciate the importance of softer aspects, such as how to help a community emerge. Instead of being only closed shelters, I think houses should be more open to the community, so that the neighbors know who lives there. I want to think more about that in the future. The biggest impact in Tokyo is energy. If you go into town, the stores are dark because they are trying to save electricity. For some reason, the urge to buy is weaker when you see products under natural light. There was a moment when I felt as if I had come to myself when the electricity went off. What happens when the life we were used to suddenly disappears? I wondered how to approach life from a new angle, how to think about what to do when we start from not having. For example, I have always thought that it would be great to design a house in Tokyo without air conditioning. But there is probably only so much that can be accomplished with systems solutions. I thought that it would probably be unreasonable unless we change our standards of cool and hot. I get the feeling that changes have begun to appear in peoples values since the disaster. There are mechanical solutions like installing solar panels, but instead of that I think that architecture needs to think seriously about simpler kinds of ecology. On the basis of cooperation between countless individuals Ienari Toshikatsu: I was 19 in 1995, when the Great Hanshin Earthquake happened. Our house was certified as completely collapsed, so I have personal experience of the destruction caused by an earthquake. This time the type of disaster is different, but it still affects people. So I would like to say something based on my own experience: When the earthquake happened, I heard the news on the radio and set off on my bicycle to one of the hard-hit areas to check on my friends. On the way there, I noticed that the urban infrastructure had stopped functioning. For example, the traffic lights had stopped working. I saw an older man standing in a 5-way intersection and directing traffic by hand, and saw my friends helping to pull an older woman out from under the rubble of a collapsed house. Someone was giving cardiac
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massage. As I went around looking for my friends, I realized that there were not many accidents even though everyone was riding scooters on the sidewalks, and that everyone was patiently waiting their turn in the lines for relief supplies. Even though laws and existing systems had collapsed, people were cooperating with each other and spontaneously creating their own systems. Ever since that experience, I have been asking myself whether architecture could not be built up in the same way, through countless small acts of adjustment and cooperation. I have been trying to include the intentions of as many people as possible in the process, make the architecture reflect them, and also create a system through which people could actively participate in the construction process. For example, in a project using 2575 mm members, I decided the size while keeping in mind the weight that a woman might be able to handle in a column. I think that participating in the construction will also be helpful later when it comes to smooth operation of the architecture. When building architecture, we have to choose one principle. But if we can look skeptically at the principle once more, if there is a bodily dimension that goes beyond it, or links and community, then I think that it might be possible to renew the principle. We have heard approaches from various angles. Up to the start of this discussion, Ms. Inui was hesitant to participate, saying that she did not feel emotionally ready. How did you find it? Inui: When I see that everyone is troubled about the same things, I feel gratified that we can share our feelings. A fairly wide range of issues have been brought up in response to the disaster. I thought it was a clear expression of the diversity of architecture. Fujiwara: Architecturally it was instructive in various ways, but there wasnt very much discussion of urban planning. With this disaster, I was struck again by the aberrance of Tokyo as a city. When the express trains are not running because the line needs to conserve electricity, what would normally be a onehour commute can take up to three and a half hours one way, as soon as you miss a transfer. When you realize how many people are heading into Tokyo every day over those distances, I think it is really abnormal. There must be advantages to having the government and economy so concentrated in Tokyo, so that this arrangement is more efficient. But the result of this single-minded pursuit of advantages is that city functions are astonishingly fragile. There is a fairly high possibility that a major earthquake will occur in the Tokyo region. In terms of urban planning, I think it is a mistake not to encourage more economic and cultural independence, including education, in areas like the Osaka region, Nagoya, Fukuoka, and around the Inland Sea. Nagasaka: I have always disliked having to live oriented toward the center. I have always wanted to look in various directions. In that sense, the earthquake may be an opportunity to rethink
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the way we live. Fujimura: The relation between Tokyo and regional cities was problematic even before the earthquake. But I think that with the earthquake clarified the question of the kind of vision that regional cities should have. No question, everyone agrees that Tokyo is too large. As a college student I spent some time in Rotterdam and realized how pleasant it can be to live in a city of about 800,000 residents. Before you go very far, you meet someone you know. You feel like you know the city. Tokyo has the distinctive opaqueness of a large metropolis, where you dont meet anyone unless you try. Hideaki Ishikawa had the same awareness of this problem. He had a vision of green belts that would divide Tokyo into a number of smaller cities. It was never realized, but he had the ambition to disassemble and reconfigure Tokyo as a platform for living. This is a problem that applies to the entire country, including Tokyo, but I think that the scale that allows you to know something is a decisive condition. Student: I am an architectural student. Ever since the earthquake, for the past month, I have been thinking about I, as one person studying architecture, can do to help. Compared to the doctors and firemen working at the disaster sites, it seems like I cannot do anything. At this very moment, many people are without food and electricity. As architects, is there anything we can do? Fujiwara: I think that soon a lot of temporary housing will start going up. Probably it will not be the most comfortable housing you can imagine. But I think that with a few improvised carpenter-type improvements it could be very good. I think that one role for someone involved with architecture could be to take direct action and visit the shelters and temporary housing to see what could be improved. When you see something to do, just do it. This is something that could be done on our own. Of course, it doesnt require an architect. Anyone at all could do it. In Japan, people leave it completely up to the carpenters and architects to build their houses. I think that our ability to build our own environment, the place where we will live, has become much weaker. If we had that power, then it might be possible to take temporary housing and make it comfortable, all on our own. In these situations, architects are often compared to doctors, but clearly they are different professions. When we see a city where something has been taken away, it is not our job to try to save a life immediately. We think about life in that city 50 or 100 years from now, and about what should form the core of that life. In that sense, right now I am painfully aware as I work I am always oriented toward the distant future. Hirata: I think there are three phases in dealing with a disaster. The first is securing privacy and comfort at refugee shelters. That is over the short-term, and it can be as simple as installing partitions, which by itself is enough to increase the well-being of people in the shelters. The mid-term is temporary housing.
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I dont know whether it is possible to influence the design of temporary housing, but even if it is not the well-being of the residents can certainly be improved by thinking about the location. Over the long-term, there will have to be a discussion about the kind of cities we want to build. Before this discussion, we will need detailed information about specific locales. What kind of place is it? What has happened there? Collecting this information will be an enormous task, and it is very hard to say if an architect with other work to do would be able to commit to it. For example, I think it would be valuable if students who are studying architecture could organize a systematic research effort. When tasks are too large for any one person, I think a lot could be accomplished if we could create a common platform to share those tasks and guide them into execution. April 7, 2011 at Yoshioka Library, Tokyo. Translated from Japanese by Thomas Donahue.
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p. 120, above: Onagawa town in Miyagi Prefecture. p. 120, below: Yuriage in Miyagi Prefecture. Opposite, clockwise from top: Emergency Support for the East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami by Shigeru Ban Architects; Natori Performing Arts Center by Maki and Associates. Refugee use the foyer; Public bath for

refugee by Japan Self-Defense Forces; Volunteers pitch a tent; Refugee at Ofunato Civic Culture Center and Library by Chiaki Arai Urban and Architecture Design. All photos on pp. 120122 except as noted by Yoshihiro Asada / Shinkenchiku-sha in April and May 2011.

(Thinking Shinekenchiku-sha published an extra issue, About Architecture After 3.11 Earthquake) Price: 500 JPY (All benefit from the publication will be donated to the Japanese Red Cross) 92 pages, 297 mm 210 mm The digital edition is scheduled to be published in July 2011. (http://www.japan-architect.co.jp/en/) Contributors; Alberto Campo Baeza, Kai-Uwe Bergmann (BIG), Alfredo Brillembourg, Kenneth Frampton, Sean Godsell, Alistair Guthrie, Craig W. Hartman, Kerry Hill, Hans Ibelings, Christoph Ingenhoven, Dibdo Francis Kr,Michael Maltzan, Gurjit Singh Matharoo, Toshiko Mori, Mohsen Mostafavi, MVRDV, Ken Tadashi Oshima, Dominique Perrault, RCR, Hera Van Sande, Wang Shu, Erwin John Soriano Viray, and 152 Japanese. 123