WINDOW RESEARCH INSTITUTE

Through this series, “Shoei Yoh: A Journey of Light”, we have compiled analyses of the work of architect Shoei Yoh focused on the theme of light. Here is a recap of their contents.

First, in “Light is Light and Light”, Martien de Vletter of the Canadian Centre for Architecture highlighted Yoh’s projects from the 1990s onward, such as the Galaxy Toyama and Naiju Community Center, to illustrate his pursuit of light’s brightness and light’s lightness—”both of which”, she noted, “speak to his desire to design efficient and economical buildings”. Her observation connecting Yoh’s interests in light and an economy of means allows us to form a continuous reading of his work from the 1980s, when he explored the theme of architecture of light, through to the 1990s, when he began experimenting with computational design as a means of creating optimized structures.

The two subsequent analyses, “The Ingot Coffee Shop: Building as a Mass of Glass” and “From Interiors to Non-Architecture” by Tomo Inoue and myself, respectively, shifted the focus to Yoh’s earlier work from the 1970s to the 1980s. Inoue illuminated the technological innovation behind Japan’s first “building conceived as a mass of glass”, while I mused on how Yoh’s concept of non-architecture transcended the domain of architecture and was instead “grounded in the vast, broader field of design”.

In “Shoei Yoh: Architecture of Light, the Real, and Monism”, Yoshitake Doi presented his analysis of how all of Yoh’s work is underpinned by a monistic mode of thinking, articulating that Yoh “freed himself from architecture’s traditional dichotomies” by avoiding drawing lines between concepts such as light and shadow, inside and outside, supporting and supported, earth and sky, or artificial and natural. This observation explains the smoothness with which Yoh was able to shift careers from interior design to architecture, or from the world of artificial light to the world of natural light. To elaborate on Doi’s words that “natural fog and artificial fog are identical phenomena, at least when viewed on a micro scale”, light from a luminaire and light from the sun, while having different properties, are essentially the same phenomena. The reading of Yoh’s architecture as being monistic in nature also explains why he embraced computational design in the 1990s, as the computational tools’ capacity to multiply parameters aligns with his eschewal of dichotomies.

Lastly, in “Architecture in Motion”, YU Momoeda expounded on how Yoh “understood buildings as things that move”. From the 1970s to the 1990s, Yoh never deviated from his search for ways of giving expression to nature’s dynamic phenomena (i.e., light, wind, water, heat, gravity) through his architecture. A key point of focus for his work became the joints—the material interfaces that mediate different movements—which led him to invent unique building methods, as epitomized by the Stainless Steel House with Light Lattice. These observations elucidate the motive behind Yoh’s technologically innovative use of structural silicon sealant discussed in Inoue’s analysis. One could also say that Yoh’s dynamic view of architecture is a product of his monistic mode of thinking. His pursuit to achieve a dynamic equilibrium liberated his work from yet another one of architecture’s restrictive dichotomies: permanent vs. temporary.

 

In March 2024, an exhibition titled Revisiting Shoei Yoh was presented at the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum. Speaking at a lecture organized as part of the show, Shoei Yoh reflected on one of his major works, the Oguni Dome, as follows:

The essence of the gymnasium in Oguni doesn’t actually lie in its timber structure. The timber structure wasn’t the goal. It might be argued that it doesn’t need to be a timber structure at all. What must be cherished foremost in the gymnasium’s section is the light . . . . The soft suffusing light is what enables the building to live on. That’s where its life as a gymnasium resides. Really, I can’t overstate how important the light is . . . .

Yoh’s claim that the Oguni Dome did not have to be a timber structure surely came as a shock to the devoted attendees who gathered from all across the country. As Japan’s first large-scale timber building with a gross floor area greater than 3,000 square meters, the Oguni Dome is a work deserving of being called a milestone for contemporary timber architecture. And yet, here its creator revealed that in his mind, its true essence lies not in its timber structure but its light.

I believe that the analyses presented in this series can collectively explain the meaning behind Yoh’s words. True to Momoeda’s words that “Yoh viewed buildings in the same way as humans, plants, and other lifeforms”, Yoh perceived the Oguni Dome as a living entity. And its timber lattice truss structure, manifesting both an economy of means (De Vletter) and technological ingenuity (Inoue), is what breathes life into it by acting as a kind of photometric device (Doi) that softly filters—or as a catalyst that amplifies—light, a material without mass, simultaneously a wave and particle, perpetually in motion.

One way of tactilely embracing nature whilst playing in the realm of imagination is to be mindful of the condition of light. All life eagerly awaits that moment when the first light of the morning sun begins to shine forth through the darkness. In the beginning there was light.

Existing free of all fixity and division, Shoei Yoh’s “light architecture” directly expresses a world in constant flux.

 

Top image: Oguni Dome. Courtesy of Kouji Okamoto.