Jade Removille It’s truly a great pleasure to interview you. Your work has been such a significant source of inspiration for me, especially during my studies in Spatial Design at the Royal College of Art a few years ago and your approach to design is something I deeply admire. Your design ethos, particularly in its emphasis on the interplay between nature and architecture, resonates strongly with me. I would like to delve into the genesis of your architectural vision. Could you share how your childhood experiences in Hokkaido have influenced or shaped your perspective on architecture?

Sou Fujimoto I grew up in Hokkaido, and as a child, I often played in the wild forest. At the time, I never considered architecture, but as I began to study it, I realized that my experiences in the woods carried many meanings related to scale, diversity, and something beyond mere functionality. The contrast between Tokyo, where I studied architecture, and the natural environment in which I grew up, was particularly striking. In the heart of Tokyo, in its residential areas, we don’t encounter vast wildlife spaces. However, wandering through the narrow streets of the city, with their meandering paths, felt almost like walking through the woods.

I think this connection comes from the presence of small elements in both environments. In the forest, there are leaves, branches, and small bushes; in Tokyo, small artificial objects, including even the electricity cables, seemed to float in space. I came to realize that the forest is not just a forest—it’s a structure with a human-scale design. It’s a place where you are surrounded and protected by small elements, yet it’s also an open field where anyone can choose their path, their activities, and their way of experiencing the space.

In this way, the forest became an iconic concept for me, representing the essence of architectural thinking and the relationship between architecture and nature. It serves as the foundation for creating something that goes beyond the typical functional approach to architecture.

JR Your first project, the Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation in Hokkaido, Japan (2006), introduced the concept of ‘openness and protection,’ a theme that has recurred throughout your later works. The design aimed to create a space where patients and doctors could interact without hierarchy, offering both openness and privacy. Despite the seemingly accidental nature of the layout, the design process was meticulously planned, resulting in a space that appears spontaneous and unplanned. This deliberate ambiguity allowed for the creation of selectivity and contingency, providing children with irregular alcove like spaces for privacy and freedom. These spaces, while seemingly without function, were embraced by the children who utilised them for play and relaxation. The absence of a central focal point allowed for multiple relative centres to emerge, depending on the occupants’ perceptions and the changing conditions of light and space. Why was it significant for you to design a space where patients and doctors could interact without hierarchy? What impact do you think this approach has on the overall atmosphere and effectiveness of the rehabilitation process?

SF When people hear the term “psychiatric facility,” they often view it as a special, isolated place. However, rather than designing a traditional psychiatric facility, we saw ourselves creating a “place where people live,” a home. It is also a small society, encompassing 50 to 100 people, including staff, where diverse relationships constantly unfold—essentially, an urban space.

In the case of the Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation, one key concept was “a place to hide,” especially since the focus is on children. I envision it as a space where one can “escape” or “hide” for a while, perhaps a “dent” in the middle of a corridor. For example, there are individual rooms where children can retreat to if they wish for privacy. But these “hiding places” are not completely isolated; they are still connected to the overall space, yet slightly hidden. Children, in particular, want others to recognize that they are hiding.

This project is not about confinement but about creating an open, supportive environment. It was designed to offer various emotional possibilities, allowing individuals to choose what they need. Instead of sticking to the conventional notion of a mental hospital, we aimed to create a comfortable residential space based on the necessary functions while breaking away from traditional concepts.

JR How do you perceive the integration of trees and plants in your projects as enhancing the architectural experience, and what challenges do you encounter during the design and construction phases? Inspired by organic structures like the nest, the cave, and the forest, your signature buildings often explore the relationship between architecture and the built environment.  How do you believe this integration contributes to a higher quality of design, and what role does coherence with the existing environment play in shaping your architectural vision for the future?

SF Incorporating more nature into the urban environment is not just a trend; it will become a fundamental prerequisite for architectural and urban design in the coming era. This integration will bring diversity to the living environment that cannot be achieved by architecture or artifacts alone. As respect for diverse lifestyles and consideration for the global environment become more common, it will be essential to explore new ways of fusing nature with architecture when envisioning how to create urban spaces that are both diverse and interconnected with the planet. I believe this fusion of nature and architecture will become increasingly necessary.

JR In your design for the Final Wooden House, Kumamoto, Japan (2005-2008), you described the concept of creating ‘ultimate wooden architecture’ by mindlessly stacking 350mm square lumber. Could you delve deeper into the rationale behind this approach, particularly in regard to your decision to eschew traditional differentiation of lumber according to various architectural functions?

This minimally processed lumber helped create a refreshing variety of spaces. What inspired this unconventional approach, and what key design considerations did you address?

SF In this project, we aimed to create the ultimate wooden structure. Through the design of this bungalow—a small, primitive house—we sought to create new architecture that is both primitive and contemporary.

Wood is surprisingly versatile. It is used in many conventional wooden constructions, not only for structural elements like posts and beams but also for foundations, exterior and interior walls, ceilings, flooring, insulation, furniture, stairs, and window frames. We thought that if wood is truly multifunctional, we could create architecture that fulfills all of these functions with a single process and a single material. This approach is a reversal of versatility.

The 350mm square cedar wood has a significant impact. It transcends the usual concept of “wood” and becomes the “presence” of a completely different material. The 350mm dimension is exactly equivalent to the human body, fully expressing the materiality of the wood. These 350mm increments create a three-dimensional space that acts like a stairway to the floor. This staircase-like space has fascinated me for years because it introduces spatial relativity and creates new sensations of varying distances—something a traditional flat floor cannot achieve.

There is no strict classification of floor, wall, or ceiling here. Spaces considered floors are transformed into chairs, ceilings, and walls depending on one’s perspective. The level of the floor becomes relative, and people reinterpret spatiality based on their position. Occupants are placed three-dimensionally within the space, experiencing a new sense of depth. Rather than dividing space, elements fuse together by chance, creating it. The cedar 350mm squares are endlessly stacked, and in the end, a prototypical space emerges before the architecture becomes fully realized.

I believe this small hut touches on the archetype of what things can be.

JR The House N, Oita, Japan (2008) design features a gradation of intimate private spaces and semi-public spaces. Could you discuss the thought process behind this nested multi-layered design and how it fosters connections between inside and outside environments, expressing the richness of what lies ‘between’ these spaces?

SF In House N, we combined three boxes, carefully considering the relationship between inside and outside. With enough space for a garden, we treated the garden as part of the interior, creating a modern version of a porch. Inside the house, another box was nested within the first to blur the boundary between interior and exterior. When you reach the corner, you find an enclosed space, yet above, you can see countless fragmented pieces of the sky. The combination of feeling both free and protected is similar to the concept I expressed when designing the Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation.

JR I would love to talk about the ORDOS 100 #9 project that you have done in 2009. Located in Ordos, Inner Mongolia and curated by contemporary artist Ai Weiwei, the project challenges the traditional notion of a house as an object, instead conceptualising it as a totality of frequencies within a living space. Could you delve deeper into how you translated this philosophy into the design, particularly with the innovative approach of creating ‘walls of voids’ to blur the boundaries between interior and exterior spaces?

Given the unique environmental context of Mongolia, could you discuss how the surrounding landscape and cultural aspects of the region informed your design approach for the Ordos Project?

SF The idea of creating walls of space originated from House N. The boundary between inside and outside is reimagined as a gradation, producing a variety of spaces through its inherent ambiguity. The relationship between inside and outside has always been a central theme in my work. It questions the very roots of architecture while exploring the connection between nature and architecture. It also examines the relationship between private and public spaces, offering a redefinition of the dynamic between the individual and society, making it more diverse.

For the Ordos project, the vastness of the site was the initial inspiration. The site is expansive, yet it carries the contextual ambiguity of a desert center. It also boasts a rich, beautiful, and sometimes harsh natural environment. In response, we chose not to sharply separate the interior from the exterior. Instead, we aimed to create a range of spaces with varying gradations between them, allowing the entire site—and the house as a whole—to function as one small, interconnected social space.

JR Now delving into one of the most radical residential projects I have seen: House NA, Tokyo, Japan (2015) stands out as a remarkable fusion of transparency and privacy, blending seamlessly into its Tokyo neighbourhood although in contrast with the usual concrete block walls, while redefining residential living. House NA acts both as a single room and a collection of rooms, offering a unique spatial experience. Could you elaborate on how the unconventional layout and integration of the floor plates at various heights contribute to the inhabitants’ sense of connection and privacy within the home?

How did other residents in the neighbourhood react to House NA, considering its radical design featuring transparency throughout?

SF House NA was built on a relatively small site, so we decided against creating traditional, independent private rooms like a living room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. Doing so would have resulted in just another small house, typical and uninspiring. The client was drawn to creative, unconventional styles, so, through discussions with them, we explored the idea of breaking free from the traditional “this room is for this function” approach. Today, people work on their computers and smartphones in the living room and often move to the kitchen or bedroom with them. There’s no real need to move back and forth between specific rooms all day long, especially in a conventional house with private rooms designed for a single purpose, which can feel claustrophobic and difficult to navigate.

Instead of separate rooms, we created multiple “corners,” offering flexibility. In this design, residents can choose whether to be with others or alone. House NA, in a sense, shares a quality with a “Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation,” where space encourages varied, personal use.

Structurally, the furniture is stacked in a nested arrangement, each piece connected by a staircase (which also serves as a chair). There are steps throughout the floor, but no walls to divide the space. Once inside, all the areas are interconnected, and with ceilings reaching 5 to 6 meters high, the space feels open and expansive. At the same time, the many small elements floating around you create a sense of being enveloped in a soft, airy atmosphere. Living in this house feels less like being in a glass box and more like inhabiting a small, artificial floating object.

JR Your installation The Cloud at the Serpentine Pavilion, London, United Kingdom (2013) seamlessly blends architecture with nature through its translucent structure, reminiscent of a cloud. Relocated in front of the National Gallery of Arts in Tirana, Albania, since 2016, the structure, inspired by organic shapes present in nature, has served as a modern art space for cultural events. 

Once again, man-made and nature merge, in an “artificial nest”. Formed by 20mm diameter steel bars, it is a flexible, semi-transparent structure, where visitors become an integral part of nature and the landscape yet at the same time remain protected inside. What inspired the concept behind this pavilion, and how do you see it redefining the boundary between interior and exterior spaces?

SF In designing the Serpentine Pavilion 2013, we envisioned a topographical space where people could discover new and diverse ways of interacting with their environment—an architecture that was semi-transparent. The lush greenery of the surrounding area, with its vibrant hues, blends seamlessly with the geometric forms of the pavilion. Initially, I imagined a design where the geometry and architectural forms would naturally integrate with the human body.

By repeating simple cubes that matched the size of the human body, we created a form that straddles the line between the organic and the abstract. By smoothing the edges and making the structure ambiguous, we blurred the boundary between interior and exterior. The use of thin steel rods helped create translucent, irregular shapes, while simultaneously offering protection and allowing people to become part of the landscape.

While the grid forms the overall topography, its depth varies across the space, at times creating a thick layer of air, other times a thin one, and occasionally almost transparent areas. The walls, roof, and seating areas were constructed from similar steel frames. The pavilion, as an organic structure, creates an ever-changing topography, allowing people to experience the architecture at their own pace. Each person can find their own favorite spot inside or outside the pavilion, making it feel as though visitors are drifting through a space that exists somewhere between architecture and nature.

JR In the design process for L’Arbre Blanc Residential Tower, Montpellier, France (2019), you’ve collaborated with Manal Rachdi, Nicolas Laisné, and Dimitri Roussel, drawing inspiration from nature to create a building that reimagines the concept of tower living. Could you discuss how the idea of incorporating elements of nature, such as its balconies cantilevering like branches from a thick trunk, influenced the overall design concept and the experience for residents?

How did you achieve a sense of lightness and fluidity in such a tall residential tower, and what were the structural challenges you faced during its design and construction?

SF Collaborating on the L’Arbre Blanc project involved bringing together the visions of multiple architects, each with their own unique perspectives and inspirations. Could you share some insights into how this collaboration initially formed and how the diverse contributions from yourself, Manal Rachdi, Nicolas Laisné, and Dimitri Roussel were integrated throughout the design process to create a cohesive and innovative architectural solution?

L’Arbre Blanc was a design competition organized by the city council of Montpellier in 2013, calling for bold proposals featuring eco-friendly stores and residences that would serve as a beacon to honor the city’s architectural heritage. We were approached by a young architect from Jean Nouvel’s office to participate. I didn’t know them at the time, but after speaking with them on Skype, it felt like a good match, and I was eager to collaborate.

We began with an open discussion about lifestyle and how to adapt the traditional lifestyle of Montpellier into a high-rise building. The city enjoys a warm Mediterranean climate, and I learned that people often eat outdoors, even in winter. The community also enjoys spending time outside to eat, nap, and converse with friends, so it became clear that indoor spaces weren’t the priority. From there, we decided it would be important to include plenty of outdoor space, with large balconies. Rather than jumping straight into artistic inspiration, we focused first on the essentials, and the result was a rich, expansive exterior space.

JR Are there any architects or artists in particular with whom you would love to work with. Who are some of your major influences? Architecture and none. 

SF The artists who have influenced me are innumerable. From Picasso, Brancusi, and Duchamp to Andy Warhol and Richard Long, I have always admired innovative art. The Beatles and Bob Dylan have also played a significant role in shaping my perspective.

I have been deeply influenced by the creativity of natural science, from Einstein to Heisenberg. And, of course, Le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe, who revolutionized modern architecture, have been a constant source of inspiration for me since the first day I began studying architecture.

Collaborating with Leandro Erlich at the Shiroiya Hotel was a wonderful experience. His perspective on the world, always full of fundamental questions, has been truly inspiring.

I deeply respect Tadao Ando, both as an architect and as a human being.

JR Working in both Tokyo and Paris, you encounter vastly different architectural contexts. How do you approach the challenge of integrating your designs into these distinct urban landscapes?

SF Not only in Tokyo and Paris but across the world, lifestyles and landscapes have evolved over centuries, shaped by ethnic heritage, history, climate, and culture. I believe the most important aspect of architecture is recognising and respecting these diverse cultural accumulations, incorporating this rich history into our projects.

An architect’s true ability lies in understanding the weight of culture and history and finding ways to connect them to the future while remaining sensitive to the local climate and way of life. The essence of my approach is to listen carefully to the incredible diversity of the world, paying close attention to the unique conditions of each context. This attentiveness is what allows me to integrate architecture seamlessly with the surrounding landscape.

JR Cross-cultural influences seem to play a significant role in your work. Can you discuss how you draw upon both European and Japanese cultural elements in your architectural projects, and how do you balance cultural nuances without compromising your design vision?

SF One of the defining characteristics of my architecture is its ability to move beyond cultural differences, returning to the fundamental physical, sensory, and social aspects of human nature. From this foundation, it seeks to reconstruct the relationship between space and people in a new way. Even when a proposal may initially seem unconventional or radical, it ultimately resonates with the core of human experience. I believe this primordial aspect of our work creates a cultural balance that is universally understood across different contexts.

JR I would now love to discuss one of my favourite projects of yours, the House of Hungarian Music, Budapest, Hungary (2021): it defies conventional museum design by prioritising interaction and integration with its surroundings. Inspired by the abundance of trees in City Park, the museum’s circular volume seems to float among the treetops, inviting visitors to engage with music and nature simultaneously. The architecture blurs the boundaries between inside and outside, creating a fluid and immersive experience as visitors meander through the museum. Concerts and events take place under the floating volume, attracting crowds and fostering community around music. How does your approach differ from when it comes to architecturally design a music venue especially in terms of creating spaces that foster engagement with music and sound on a deeper level? What challenges did you face in harmonising the built environment with the surrounding landscape?

SF Since the beginning of the competition, we have been listening to the music of great Hungarian musicians and exploring their cultural backgrounds, as we felt that the House of Music would be a deeply significant place for the people of Hungary and Budapest.

The site’s location within a beautiful forest was a crucial starting point. We asked ourselves how architecture could be seamlessly integrated with nature—how the experience of walking through the forest could gradually transition into an architectural space. We also considered how the glass music hall on the ground floor could foster new activities inside while remaining in harmony with the surrounding forest.

As a result, the large roof—pierced with countless openings—serves as both an architectural translation of the forest and a means of facilitating a gradual transition from the natural landscape to the building’s interior. The outcome is a transparent music hall that extends into a semi-outdoor space, allowing visitors to engage with both music and nature, listening to beautiful sounds amidst the trees.

The greatest challenge was designing a music facility that could coexist respectfully within this environment, preserving and honouring the natural surroundings.

I believe this project has become a powerful symbol of my ongoing exploration of the fusion between nature and architecture.

JR How do you perceive the relationship between music, sounds, and architecture? Specifically, could you share your thoughts on the concept of creating soundscapes within architectural spaces? 

SF This architecture is composed of multiple elements—the whole and its parts, the surroundings and the interior—all in harmony with one another. In this sense, I would say it is very musical.

In particular, the “music hall open to the forest” at ground level—from the outdoor plaza beneath the large roof to the entrance and main performance space—is a special place that seamlessly blends into the surrounding park. Its expansive roof, made of soft golden fragments, appears as a fusion of artefacts and nature, rippling gently into the forest.

For the acoustics, we collaborated with Nagata Acoustics, a world-renowned acoustic design firm, from the competition stage of the project. Throughout all phases of design, we worked to enhance the acoustic quality, creating a space where architecture, soundscape, and landscape harmonise and resonate with one another.

JR Your architectural work often embodies a profound connection between nature, space, and human experience. In light of Goethe’s notion that ‘architecture is frozen music,’ which reveals a universal theme of expression underlying all creative disciplines, how do you perceive the relationship between architecture and music? Are there any musicians or genres that you find particularly inspiring or that resonate with your design philosophy?

SF I am not an expert on music, but I have always loved the Beatles and listened to them often. As a boy, they taught me how wonderful it is to create something new—an idea that still underpins my creative roots.

Glenn Gould’s interpretation of Bach, meanwhile, offers a beautiful connection between the cosmic scale and the human experience.

JR I would like now to delve into the Sky Mountain Haikou Bay No.6 High Standard Seaside Station, Haikou, China (2023).providing a space for travellers to transition between the city and nature. Could you elaborate on how the design concept transforms a nature valley form into an innovative stage for new experiences and social interactions within the pavilion?

SF We believed the Haikou Seaside Stop pavilion would serve as a focal point, offering travellers the opportunity to meander between the city and nature, with spaces designed for social interactions. A valley-like natural form became the stage for a new type of experience and space.

The Sky Mountain design features a gently sloping, valley-like rooftop that transitions smoothly from the city side to the seaside.

All visitor services and TV support programs within the stop pavilion are housed under a single roof, sharing an open floor space.

JR How do you foresee the role of your architectural vision in inspiring future generations of architects, as you continue to integrate natural and architectural elements, even in futuristic projects beyond Japan? Furthermore, what legacy do you aspire to leave through your work as it evolves and influences the architectural landscape of tomorrow?

SF I believe that the integration of nature and architecture is the vision of the future. Various attempts will be made to achieve this. I will be happy if my project can be an inspiration for future architectural thinking. It won’t just be about architectural styles, but will influence deeper thinking about the relationship between nature and artifacts, between individuals and society, and between people. It will also influence more philosophical ideas such as simplicity and complexity, change and eternity, the moment and eternity.