Sou Fujimoto: ‘Foreigners don’t want really crazy things’
By: Pollock, Naomi
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Publisher: London EMAP Publishing Limited 2016Edition: 24 October 2016 .Subject(s): ARCHITECTURE GENERAL (AR-GEN)Online resources: Click here
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Architectural reviewSummary: As the car curved around the Hokkaido hillside, Sou Fujimoto’s Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation came into view. Majestic, monolithic and a bit incongruous with the countrified setting, this cluster of abstract white cubes appeared like a mirage. Although I had seen photos of the building countless times, none of those static images prepared me for Fujimoto’s striking, dynamic form. As the architect and I entered the building through its side door – the one that its diminutive residents use daily – the interior revealed itself bit by bit. Like a cityscape in miniature, it contained a mixture of piazza-like, open areas for group activities loosely embraced by two-storey, house-like volumes that hold mainly sleeping quarters. While blond wood flooring and white walls gently enclosed the space, full-height glass panels effortlessly connected it to the scenery outside. Neat rows of tiny toothbrushes above the communal sinks and colourful crayoned drawings affixed to the walls bore witness to the kids’ comfortable accommodation within Fujimoto’s architecture. Even the designer, his own harshest critic, had to admit that his building still looked good some 10 years later.
| Item type | Current location | Call number | Status | Date due | Barcode | Item holds |
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Articles Abstract Database
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School of Architecture Archieval Section | Not for loan | 2021-2021592 |
As the car curved around the Hokkaido hillside, Sou Fujimoto’s Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation came into view. Majestic, monolithic and a bit incongruous with the countrified setting, this cluster of abstract white cubes appeared like a mirage. Although I had seen photos of the building countless times, none of those static images prepared me for Fujimoto’s striking, dynamic form. As the architect and I entered the building through its side door – the one that its diminutive residents use daily – the interior revealed itself bit by bit. Like a cityscape in miniature, it contained a mixture of piazza-like, open areas for group activities loosely embraced by two-storey, house-like volumes that hold mainly sleeping quarters. While blond wood flooring and white walls gently enclosed the space, full-height glass panels effortlessly connected it to the scenery outside. Neat rows of tiny toothbrushes above the communal sinks and colourful crayoned drawings affixed to the walls bore witness to the kids’ comfortable accommodation within Fujimoto’s architecture. Even the designer, his own harshest critic, had to admit that his building still looked good some 10 years later.
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