The architect Hiroshi Sambuichi (born 1968) is known for his ingenious use of “moving materials,” or the site-specific movements of the sun, wind, and water. A recipient of the prestigious Wallpaper* Design Award in 2017, he aims to create what he calls “endemic architecture” that is in harmony with its surroundings. It involves meticulous research of the building site for “up to two or three years” (Fukutake 161, Tamashige).
While discussion of Sambuichi’s work either focuses on his unique process and philosophy or simply labels them as sustainable or ecological, such descriptions do not fully capture the significance of his work. To the extent that architecture is created for human purposes, the question remains of what his work is like for the people who use them. In other words, how does he view the relationship between architecture and people? A closer look at his works reveal his understanding of architecture as an interface, or meeting point, between people and their environment. This is a fundamental concept that is often overlooked in design today, and is perhaps one reason his works are so memorable.
An interface is something in between; hence it responds to its surroundings and requires minimum energy to function. Sambuichi realizes this in his architecture by skillfully harnessing readily available natural energy. The Inujima Seirensho Art Museum (2008) on Inujima, an island in western Japan, could be called a prime example. Built as part of an art project to revitalize the islands in the area, the museum uses the remains of an abandoned copper refinery that symbolizes Inujima’s history of industrial exploitation. The completed building runs on virtually zero electricity: making use of one of the refinery’s remaining chimneys, it is designed to bring in air, adjust its temperature, and circulate it naturally, year-round. Inside, mirrors are placed strategically to bring in sunlight. As Sambuichi says, “[u]nless the sun disappears, air will continue flowing through this museum forever” (138). He also explains in an interview, “It’s not as if I reject the splendour of technology. But it creates an architecture where you have to inject energy. But there is already plenty of energy there to use” (One with the Earth’s Cycle).
This principle is apparent in his older works as well. Soichiro Fukutake, who commissioned Sambuichi for the Inujima project, recalls how he came to know Sambuichi through one of the architect’s previous buildings. The private residence, built on a northern facing slope, had taken advantage of the seemingly disadvantageous location by using light and heat from the sun (Fukutake 160).
An interface is also a medium that connects different elements. Sambuichi’s works possess this aspect as well. While fields such as sustainable architecture certainly view human activity in connection to a larger context, they tend to see humans as intruders in the ecosystem whose impact must be mitigated or offset using new technology. This is apparent in recent examples and discourse in sustainable or environmentally conscious architecture (Poerschke et al). In Sambuichi’s buildings, however, humans are accepted as part of the cycle. At the Inujima Seirensho Art Museum, visitors’ excrements are purified and converted to fertilizer for the local trees. These trees revitalize the landscape and also bear fruit that nourish the visitors and local people. The more visitors the museum has, the more nutrients. In an essay about the project, he writes that the museum is not an end in itself but “the means by which human beings become part of the Earth’s essential cycles” (153).
Another interview by Lund at Sambuichi’s first major project outside Japan elucidates this view. The work titled “The Water” (on display 2017-2018) was built inside an old underground reservoir in Copenhagen, Denmark. In the interview Sambuichi refers to CO2 as another “moving material” like wind and water, and explains how the moss he placed in one of the rooms can thrive on the CO2 exhaled by human visitors. He speaks of how there is no innate good or bad, and that the balance of each element is what is important (Building with Sun, Water and Air).
In his contribution to Sambuichi’s book, the Danish geologist Minik Rosing helps us gain a deeper understanding of this idea. In the essay, Rosing takes the reader through a sweeping journey of over 8 billion years, illuminating how some species eventually adapted to thrive on what used to be toxic or even fatal to them: oxygen (62). It is a gentle reminder that we are intrinsically a part of nature, and that the issue is to regain the balance that humans have disrupted. Sambuichi sees humans as actors in the system that can also contribute to other beings. In others words, humans should be connected with nature, and his buildings enable that connection. Instead of intruders or exploiters, we can become participants and contributors.
Still another feature of an interface is that we experience the world through it. Sambuichi’s architecture can be understood in this sense as well. His Rokko Observatory (2010) is an example of how he channels us to the beauties that exist in a location. The observatory, built atop a 1,000-meter mountain, consists of a low-rising structure covered with a net-like dome of loosely woven pieces of wood. The dome is designed so that it gathers rime (ice that forms on tree branches under certain conditions), just like the surrounding trees do. The architect had observed how water appears in its different forms—vapor, water, and ice—at Rokko, and identified the breathtaking phenomenon of rime as a symbol of that cycle (Sambuichi 88-103). A text accompanying an interview by Lund describes how the observatory “almost looks like an extension of the hill and reflects the most beautiful aspects of the place” (One with the Earth’s Cycle).
Sambuichi’s passion for communicating the beauty of the landscape is also reflected in his Orizuru Tower (2016) in Hiroshima. The 14-story office building has an observatory on the top floor, with a view of the city and the nearby Atomic Bomb Dome. For this project, too, the “moving materials” of the site inspired the architect. He observed how the wind and water around Hiroshima flow according to a certain rhythm, making it a breathing city. He believes these features have shaped the landscape since ancient times, and that they helped the city revive into one with lush greenery after its devastation 75 years ago (266-276). His resulting observatory highlights those natural flows. One architect who visited the Tower writes: “The shaded open-air space becomes, in effect, a large wind- and light-funnel, constantly pulling in gentle breezes rather than the intermittent gusts that would occur if the observatory were glazed or roofless” (Brownell). Sambuichi’s work tunes us in to the natural beauties around us.
Sambuichi’s architecture can be understood as a thoughtfully designed interface between our surroundings and us: it has an elegant, effortless quality, it embeds humans in the natural cycle, and it becomes a medium for people to experience the world. There have been ideas on nature and architecture in the past, including “organic architecture” by the master architect Frank Lloyd Wright (1867-1959). However, there is a subtle but profound difference between Wright’s ideal of “a single, unitary, and unifying relationship among building, landscape, and human life” (Graff), and Sambuichi’s careful observation and harnessing of the many forces that shape our world regardless of human intention.
At its most fundamental level, our architecture is an interface. The act of building is inherently linked to our existence. As Rosing puts it, “Life builds homes, and has done so since the dawn of time.” He explains that organisms survived because they were able to “create their own environments” in response to the larger environment. He also points out that successful built environments balance the need for separation from the outer world with that of access to external resources (62). Sambuichi’s architecture resonates with this fundamental desire.
This approach applies to the design of any object, be it a fork or a poster or a hillside residence. When we adopt his view, the things we make are no longer isolated chunks of matter, but things that exist in the context of the environment, including people. At a time when we are forced to rethink our relationship with the earth that we live on, his quiet but radical projects offer a way forward.
Works Cited
Brownell, Blaine. “The Healing Effect of Hiroshi Sambuichi’s Architecture in Hiroshima.”
Architectmagazine.com, 28 June 2018, http://www.architectmagazine.com/practice/the-healing-effect-of-hiroshi-sambuichis- architecture-in-hiroshima_o.
Fukutake, Soichiro. Use What Exists To Create What Is To Be. Sambuichi Hiroshi: Setouchi No Kenchiku (Sambuichi Hiroshi: Architecture of the Inland Sea), by Hiroshi Sambuichi, TOTO Publishing, 2016, pp. 159-161.
Graff, Stuart. “Organic Architecture and the Sustaining Ecosystem.” Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, 11 July 2018, franklloydwright.org/organic-architecture-and-the-sustaining- ecosystem/.
Lund, Christian. Sambuichi: Building with Sun, Water and Air. Louisiana Channel, Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, 22 Mar. 2018, channel.louisiana.dk/video/sambuichi-sun-water- air.
—. Sambuichi Interview: One with the Earth’s Cycle. Louisiana Channel, Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, 22 Mar. 2018, channel.louisiana.dk/video/sambuichi-one-earths-cycle
Poerschke, Ute, and Susanne Gampfer. “Environmentally Conscious Architecture: Local–Global, Traditional–Innovative, and Cultural Challenges.” Buildings 3.4 (2013): 766–770. Rosing, Minik. Building Ground. Sambuichi Hiroshi: Setouchi No Kenchiku (Sambuichi
Hiroshi: Architecture of the Inland Sea), by Hiroshi Sambuichi, TOTO Publishing, 2016,
pp. 61-63.
Sambuichi, Hiroshi. Sambuichi Hiroshi: Setouchi No Kenchiku (Sambuichi Hiroshi: Architecture
of the Inland Sea). TOTO Publishing, 2016.
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Tamashige, Sachiko. “Hiroshi Sambuichi: The Nature of Architecture.” The Japan Times, 24 Sept. 2016,
http://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2016/09/24/style/hiroshi-sambuichi-nature-architecture/.
Ai Tomiki 