KAWAHARA KRAUSE ARCHITECTSKKA

Obituary for Fumihiko Maki

My first meeting with Fumihiko Maki took place without him. On a Sunday, with no one around, I slipped my unsolicited application under the door of his office in Tokyo. I hadn't found the letterbox, I was too taken by this approach.

To get to the Maki & Associates office building in the second row to the busy Kyu Yamate Dori, you cross the front building of Hillside West. A generously dimensioned corridor leads to an initially milky glass façade and then, with a view of a small green area that separates the front and rear buildings, along this façade - now made of clear glass. You are guided by the light and the space gradually opens up. A roof leads from the front building to the office door and forms an open corridor in the outside space. It is only the entrance to the office. A transition. It does not appear staged. And yet this sequence of rooms has left a lasting impression on me: a bright stillness of calm naturalness, unagitatedly reserved, but present. I associate this special atmosphere very much with Maki-San as a person. It can be felt in every one of his buildings. His character seems to animate his architecture.

In his long professional career, Maki has witnessed a wide range of developments in (architectural) history: from the economic boom of post-war Japan to the utopian ideas of Metabolism, from international modernism to postmodernism, from the reconstruction of the World Trade Centre to the demands of our time in the face of climate change. He has built numerous projects in very different contexts around the world. Nevertheless, there is a timeless, overarching constant in his work. For me, this is not so much the formal language of modernism - because of his biography, Maki is often described as a representative of modernism who mediates between West and East - but the characteristics of the transitional and intermediate spaces to which he attaches great importance in his designs. The special quality of his projects lies not only in the meticulous attention to detail, the selected materials and the skilful dimensioning, but above all in the spaces between the buildings, between the functions - in the spaces, which for Maki are always more than just function and access. The transitions overlap, they lead into the depths of the space. The Japanese concept of "Oku", which Maki also explores in his texts, describes the Japanese concept of the layering of space in depth.

For Maki, architecture and the city are inseparable. He has always contributed to the issues of the contemporary city in a friendly and present manner as a mediator between positions, stimulating discourse. His spoken and written word carries great weight not only in Japan. In his numerous texts*, he deals with the relationship of the individual to the whole, of man to architecture, of the building to the city. His interest in spatial formations as an expression of the coming together of people is also evident in the Hillside Terrace, developed in six phases over a quarter of a century, which also includes Hillside West with the office of Maki & Associates. The individual buildings - heterogeneous in their entirety, their individual expression integrated into the respective temporal context - are united by the careful design of pavements, small squares, numerous staircases and passages between and within the buildings. These are bright and quiet threshold spaces that gently mediate between the city and the individual space as transitions. By incorporating light and movement, high-quality spaces of the in-between are created inside and outside, which, in their adaptation by the users, permanently interweave the buildings with the urban context. Maki's profound understanding of human architecture is evident in these in-between spaces.

Fumihiko Maki died at home in Tokyo on 6 June 2024 at the age of 95. His thoughts remain with us in his texts, his spirit will endure in his architecture.

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* a selection of Maki's texts was published in 2008 in English translation under the title "Nurturing Dreams, Collected Essays on Architecture and the City" by MIT Press, Cambridge

This obituary was published in a slightly abridged version in BAUWELT 14.2024

Wir umschreiben unser grundlegendes Entwurfsverständnis mit „How Things Come Together“. Erst in der Reaktion auf das komplexe Gefüge ihrer Gegebenheiten wird aus Planen und Bauen Architektur. Zu diesen Gegebenheiten zählen zunächst die üblicherweise als Kontext bezeichneten Bedingungen, die aus der physische Verortung eines Projekts in seiner (stadt-)räumlichen Umgebung entstehen. Wobei der Ort mit seinen städtebaulichen und atmosphärischen Gegebenheiten nicht nur physisch zu verstehen ist, der geschichtliche und zeitliche Kontext trägt zu spezifischen räumlichen Phänomenen und Kodierungen ebenso bei wie gesellschaftliche Aspekte. Soziologischer und kultureller Hintergrund wirken nicht nur auf Funktion, Programm und Nutzung ein. Tatsächliche Formgebung und Gestalt, Struktur und Ordnung, Dimension und Proportion wie auch alle phänomenologischen Charakteristiken eines Projekts entstehen aus dem Zusammenspiel dieser Gegebenheiten – wie die Dinge zusammenkommen.

Wir sehen die Welt, in der Architektur entsteht, als eine Sphäre dieser vielfältigen Gegebenheiten, die in wechselnder Bedeutung und Interrelation zueinander stehen. Sie spannt sich auf an den drei Polen der klassischen Trias aus Typos, Topos und Tektonik. Die Tektonik bildet dabei die offensichtlichste Formante der Architektur. Wie gebaut und konstruiert wird, welche Elemente und Materialien verwendet werden, wie die Teile physisch zusammengefügt werden ist der konstitutive Part der Architektur. Auch der Topos – griechisch für Ort oder Stelle – kann zunächst wörtlich verstanden werden: der konkrete Ort, an dem die Architektur entsteht, mit den ihm eigenen Faktoren aus Geografie, Klima, gebauter und gewachsener Umwelt. Der Typos wird allgemein im Zusammenhang mit der funktionstypischen Ausprägung erklärt und bezieht sich unter anderem auf Form und Gestalt, Komposition und Gliederung.

Viele Parameter auf der Sphäre der Gegebenheiten sind jedoch weniger offensichtlich, entstehen erst in der gemeinsamen Einwirkung der Pole, bzw. haben Einfluss auf deren Gewichtung, wie zum Beispiel kulturelle Aspekte oder gesellschaftliche Kodierungen. Die Wirkung ist wechselseitig, so dass die Gegebenheiten in ihrem Zusammenspiel den Kontext der Architektur bilden.

Genährt wird die Sphäre der Gegebenheiten durch eine zeitliche Atmosphäre. Geschichte und Zeitgeist, Brauch und Tradition, persönliches und kollektives Gedächtnis prägen die Lesart und Bedeutung der unterschiedlichen Parameter. Erst in der Antwort auf diese Gegebenheiten in ihrer projektspezifischen Gewichtung und wechselseitigen Korrelation entsteht Architektur – die wiederum auf das Gefüge einwirkt und dieses verändert.

With all of its conflicts and possibilities, beauty and unsightliness, the city remains an expression of human coexistence. Its future viability is constantly being renegotiated — as it is in this exhibition on the theme of densification. Whereas the large-scale planning of infrastructure or open space is seen as the structural basis of dense coexistence, the theme of the threshold (an aspect of architecture) is not something that the urban planning take on densification focuses on.

Urban densification is conflict-prone, because it means intervening in existing districts, affecting neighbourhoods, ‘jostling people’ — and that means stress. It promotes anxiety, which leads to people defending their territory. The same space is shared by more people, the buildings become more compact, the apartments smaller, the houses higher, and the space between them narrower. Densification means just that: we will be living more closely together. That is another one of the many reasons why we need distance and yet, at the same time, want to create community.

However, densification should be seen not just as a loss of space, but rather as a potential boost to community, differentiation, and diversity in spatial experience. Architecture must therefore find conceptual answers to how the greater density can be qualified and balanced. The threshold, an interface between the private and public spheres, creates both proximity and distance between the individual and the community. It is a bond holding the denser city together and, at the same time, a buffer that resists that tie.

In the transition from outside to inside, from private to public, the threshold reconciles different functions or characteristics on several levels, mediating between city and house, between house and apartment, between community and individual. Its effect has strong social components that range from segregation to reinforcement of community. Thus, the threshold holds great potential for smooth-running urbanism, for diversity and intermingling, for coexistence and variety of lifestyle. The design value of the threshold is therefore of great significance, because its character and atmosphere profoundly shape the city and its architecture.

First and foremost, the term threshold designates a construction element in timber-framed buildings: specifically, the lower transverse beam of a door frame. This slightly raised cross-member demarcates the boundary between inside and outside, braces the door itself firmly into the frame, thereby giving the moveable element, the door, stability and support. It repels water and dirt from outside. And one must pause in the corridor and then step over it upon entering — a conscious process.

There are many different ways of creating a threshold: it can serve a range of purposes, from being a simple structural or spatial element, right up to structuring differentiated room sequences. The threshold can delimit a space or dissolve spatial boundaries into flowing transitions. And on top of that, it creates ambience, opens up expectations.

A repertoire of projects has been compiled for the exhibition to show how threshold spaces can be created and architecturally formulated. The almost infinitely expandable series of built and unbuilt examples — detached from their geographical, social, and historical contexts — forms a typological and conceptual pool that can be interpretatively applied in the context of the densified city: a pool that works in favour of a qualitatively rich city life.

[The text was written in collaboration with Hilde Léon and published in the catologue of the exhibition “Urbainable – Positions on the European City for the 21st Centure” at Akademie der Künste, Berlin, 2020]

It is a simple box. Open and seemingly empty. The word ‘Intuition’ is written by hand in pencil in the upper third of Joseph Beuys' eponymous multiple. Below it are two horizontal lines. The upper one is centred and bordered on both sides by a short vertical line at a clear distance from the edge of the box. The lower one seems to emerge somewhere at the edge of the box in the void, initially more to be guessed at than seen. The second, horizontal line becomes increasingly stronger and ends in a short, vertical line, but only just before the other edge of the box.
The ‘Intuition’ multiple was produced over 12,000 times (by hand, in slightly different woods) and sold like household goods for just eight marks. The ‘empty’ box came without any explanation or instructions on how to use it.
According to one interpretation, the upper line illustrates the limitations of rational thinking, while the lower line, which is open to one side, symbolises intuition.

What does the box have in store for us? As designers, we reach into it every day. And yet: in teaching, in public architectural discourse, the value of the ‘box’ of intuition is rarely discussed. This is because intuition is difficult to explain. It is spontaneous and it is quick. Without knowing why you know. How can you steadfastly declare that you trust it?

Judit Polgár of all people, one of the world's best at chess, which is virtually synonymous with logic and reason, is a vehement defender of intuition. Especially in the middle part of the game, she relies on her intuitive ideas. This is where the rational mind reaches its (human) limits due to the sheer number of possible combinations of solutions.

We also have countless decisions to make when designing. Each decision opens up dozens of new branches in the imaginary tree diagram of possibilities. Perhaps this is comparable to Judit Polgár's chess game: intuition allows us to recognise and evaluate the subtle, decisive difference between possible solutions without having consciously played through all the combinations to the tips of the tree.

However, intuition does not only help when designing because of the many decisions that have to be made. Victory in chess is determined purely rationally according to defined rules - and only according to these rules. Architecture also has to follow numerous rules, but unlike chess, it operates in a context that is anything but rule-based: human life and living together. It therefore has to fulfil many different evaluation standards. And these are by no means only rational.

Just like human thought itself, architecture has a rational, an associative, an emotional and an intuitive part. The rational part can be easily identified in the rules of technology, the logic of construction, the regulations of building law, et cetera. The associative part is explained by the pictorial and referential character of architecture. Everyone has probably experienced the emotions that architecture can trigger - in both designers and users. The fact that the intuitive part, on the other hand, is not as self-explanatory as the three previously mentioned is probably due to the nature of intuition. As a ‘gut feeling’, it is denied the solidity of intellectual knowledge. Yet it does not come from nowhere – and certainly not from the gut. It certainly has a profound basis. Judit Polgár speaks of intuition as condensed experience. The mind can access this densely filled, personal archive at lightning speed. So the box is packed full!

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Abridged version of a text from 2021. 2021 not only marked the ‘Beuys Year’, but also Hilde Léon's retirement as a professor from Leibniz Universität Hannover. We wrote this text to thank Hilde for the gift – as Albert Einstein describes it* – of seeing and understanding architecture in its entirety of the four levels.


*Albert Einstein: ‘The intuitive mind is a gift and the rational mind a faithful servant. We have created a society that honours the servant and has forgotten the gift.’