Let’s continue with a simple example.
For instance, consider cooling an insulated space.
When we use electricity generated at a power plant for some purpose, it is said that only about 1/20 of the fuel’s original potential is actually utilized.
To make use of 1, we need 20 units of resources, and 19 are discarded.
Most of those 20 units of resources are outside the current Earth’s natural cycles and unsustainable.
And the 19 discarded units become a burden on the Earth’s circulation (*1).
In other words, this is a system that does not align with sustainable cycles.
From this diagram, you can also see that “the thought of division and displacement” is lurking.
I think I get it.
Or rather, it’s written right there in the diagram.
That’s right.
We separate the inside from the outside (here, indoors and outdoors) and try to control only the interior by force.
Meanwhile, everything outside is treated as a world unrelated to us, pushed outside of our awareness.
This is exactly “the thought of division and displacement.
Of course, it’s important to strengthen insulation and reduce energy use, and on extremely harsh days, some level of control is necessary for survival. I don’t deny that.
But if we forget that “the thought of division and displacement” is present here, and stop trying to reflect on it, environmental problems will never move toward a solution.
And because thought manifests in architecture, I’ve gradually lost my excitement for buildings created solely under the philosophy of division.
Technology is, of course, important, but first, we need to reconsider the underlying philosophy.
So, what does architecture without the philosophy of division look like?
Previously, I said I wanted to position architecture within the harmony and cycles of nature, but I think the first step is to stop separating inside and outside, and start thinking of the whole system together.
On top of that, we should utilize the energy available around us—solar heat, sunlight, wind, plants, and animals (*2).
As mentioned before, these all originate from the sun’s cycle, and we take advantage of them without disrupting that cycle.
These energies are not particularly large, but if we combine them cleverly, we can create a comfortable environment.
Moreover, it is precisely for the sake of harnessing these energies that insulation and other technologies become important.
These strategies were originally inherent in architecture, but have been forgotten due to overreliance on forceful technology (*3).
I see, I see.
So, it’s not that technology isn’t needed, but rather that the kind of architecture you envision is where technology is truly necessary.
Exactly.
That’s why I want your help, Niki.
If we work together, I believe we can create truly exciting architecture.
And if we can create that, people will feel it naturally, without needing complicated explanations.
Got it.
There are still things I don’t understand, but I’ll study those gradually. For the technology side, leave it to me!
Thank you!
I still have a lot I want to share, but it’s getting long for today, so let’s continue another time.
We’re experimenting with various things at the office right now, so I’ll explain them next time.
Even energy-efficient buildings considered “environmentally friendly”—I wasn’t sure how to really engage with them.
To make a building energy-efficient, you just need to improve insulation, reduce window sizes, and install solar panels or high-efficiency equipment. It’s simple; anyone can achieve it if they invest enough money.
Yet I couldn’t help feeling that something was being forgotten.
After reflecting on this for a while, I came to realize a few things:
- Technologies like improving insulation are indeed important.
- Yet, these technologies are built on “the thought of division and displacement,” deepening the separation between inside and outside, self and other.
- Within these contradictions, we need to find a way that doesn’t give up on either side.
- Hints for this can be found in the Earth’s cycles and accumulated traditional wisdom.
The tension between (1) and (2) lingered within me, causing many restless days.
But living in the current era, called the “Anthropocene,” means living within such contradictions.
Accepting this while continuing to think about it, I could faintly see the path described in (3) and (4).
Walking this path is a thorny journey for an architect, but the buildings that result will surely be full of the vitality that affirms life.
There’s no choice but to commit.
Turning contradictions into possibilities and enjoyment—this must be the privilege given to architecture and architects.