INTERVIEW: CAN SOU FUJIMOTO SAVE TOKYO?

Sou Fujimoto, 'ringing' in the changes, Photo: Tayama Tatsuyuki

The 2025 World Expo in Osaka will be remembered for many things, but the most striking feature is the Grand Ring, a massive timber structure 22 meters high and over two kilometers in circumference that encircles the site, designed by Tokyo-based architect Sou Fujimoto. His master plan for the Expo marks his ascent to the highest levels of Japanese architecture. He is also the subject of a major exhibition at the Mori Art Museum in downtown Roppongi.

As someone who is guaranteed to have an increasing influence on our ever-evolving cityscape, Tokyo-Metropolis decided it was high time to sit down and have a chat. Speaking by Zoom call, he told us why he decided to encircle the Expo in a what some have described as a "cathedral-like" timber structure:

"It contains a message of hope to the world, that even in this divided global situation, we can come together to create a future together. So, diversity and unity, that is the message!"

But the Grand Ring is about more than just symbolism. It also has features designed to cope with the torrid and humid heat of a Japanese summer, something that is increasingly a concern for all architects. Multiple days at the venue exceeded 35°C (95°F).

"The structure creates a wind tunnel effect that makes the temperature cooler," Fujimoto explains, "and then also the rooftop is a viewing deck, from where you can see all the pavilions within the circle. It's looks like a small earth in front of you."

The Grand Ring was designed as a temporary installation, but its modular and dismantlable nature—using traditional Japanese nuki joints—allows for potential reuse and re-purposing, although its future remains unconfirmed.

The Grand Ring for Expo 2025 Osaka, Kansai, Japan, Photo courtesy: Japan Association for the 2025 World Exposition

Because of the clear but permeable border that the Grand Ring gives to the Expo, some have compared the site to a small, walled, medieval city. This is not accidental, but stems from Fujimoto’s desire to ensure that this Expo has a smaller footprint than past Expos, as well as the elements of his architectural philosophy. 

Although deferential to the architects of previous Expos (Osaka 1970 and Nagoya 2005), he clearly believes the priorities are different today.

"The Master-plan for the 1970 Expo was done by Kenzo Tange. It was a realization of modern urban development ideas on a smaller scale, so it was like a model of the future city. But after that, at the end of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st, the scale and speed of new urban development got really crazy and fast, so the reality went well beyond the visions of the architects. This time we shrank the scale of the site, smaller than Osaka or Nagoya, or the last Expo in Dubai, to less than half. The question I asked myself was: ‘Is it possible to create architecture like a city, or it is possible to create the city as architecture from a more architectural or urban planning point of view?’ The Expo was like an attempt to think about something compact that could still be an urban experiences. So, finally, the circle is one."

These ideas align with the concept of the "walkable city" that has become popular around the World in recent years. This advocates urban environments that promote a sustainable attitude to life by condensing urban experiences into walkable distances, while also integrating natural and communal elements, and dissipating congestion. 

"The circle of the Grand Ring is around two kilometers, while diameter-wise it is 670 meters, so that is the scale of a really compact city. The Grand Ring is also a significant part of the infrastructure, because it serves as a street and pathway, covered by a roof to shelter from sunlight and the rain. It is an experiment to create something between the scale of architecture and the scale of city planning, and this, I hope, could be one of the models to design the right kind of compactness for the city."

The Grand Ring for Expo 2025 Osaka, Kansai, Japan, Photo courtesy: Japan Association for the 2025 World Exposition

To those of us who have suffered under the heat of what was the hottest Summer on record in Japan, with temperatures often reaching towards and sometimes beyond the 40°C mark (104°F), it may seem that the fundamental problem of Japanese architecture is that our cities are simply too big and crowded, and that the solution may lie in diffusing the urban mass over a wider area, with much more in the way of parks and green belts. 

One possible solution along these lines is the so-called "Linear City," where a city is designed as a long, narrow strip, along a transportation corridor, like a railway or highway. In Saudi Arabia, for example, plans are underway to build a 170-km-long linear city with no roads, using high-speed rail, and aiming for zero-carbon emissions and compact urban living. But according to Fujimoto, these solutions are imperfect because they require the creation of extensive and expensive (both financially and ecologically) infrastructure to connect up the various parts of the city.

Visualisation of Saudi Arabia's NEOM, a 170km-long Linear City

"Reducing population densities is one of the possibilities, of course," he agrees. "Tokyo is too centralized, and then all the other Japanese cities are decreasing their populations, but on the other hand, the efficiencies of the energy consumption will be less if they are spread too much, and there are other problems like building and maintaining infrastructure. So, I think we need to find a good balance of the proper kind of compactness. If you can find a beautiful balance of density and compactness and openness that would be nice, but at least the current situation is too much out of balance and we need to find something different."

In the architectural work that he has developed since starting his own firm in 2000—including several buildings in Tokyo, like House H (2008), Musashino Art University Museum & Library (2010), and House NA (2011)—he has opted for architecture that encourages a more sophisticated use of space, through multi-layered elements, the integration of nature with the built environment, and blurring indoor and outdoor Spaces. 

House N (2008). Oita, Japan. Photo: Iwan Baan  

Musashino Art University Museum & Library (2010), Tokyo. Photo: Daici Ano

Essentially the inspiration for these and his wider philosophy—sometimes termed “primitive futurism”—came from the forests he was familiar with as a young man growing up in his native Hokkaido.

"In Tokyo the temperature is getting really, really high. If we can have more greens and soils, then I believe the temperature of the urban situation will be reduced, and not only that but it will also create a cooler atmosphere and more shaded areas as well. I imagine if we can make a city like Tokyo more like a forest, then that will be a better living environment. And then, of course, if we have many trees, then we’re going to have many hidden corners for individuals to stay in and relax. So my dream is to make an older kind city, like a forest, and not only in terms of increased greenery but a kind of architectural forest as well. So, mixtures of green forest and an architecture forest together!"

Another key inspiration for Fujimoto was an early design he did for the Children’s Center for Psychiatric Rehabilitation in Hokkaido (2006)—his father was a psychiatric doctor. This design moved away from the heavy surveillance of previous panopticon designs.

"The starting point was to think about how we can respect diverse individuals, but at the same time create nice interrelationships in order to create some kind of small community, but not forcing people to do the same things together; to create the beautiful coexistence of different individuals and different personalities in an architectural place." 

This is something that now informs all his architecture.

"The Expo master plan with the Grand Ring is huge scale but it also represents how I try to create the diversity in unity."

But returning to the problem of Japan’s ever hotter cities, in addition to the apparent paradox of greater social interaction and greater privacy, a future city envisioned by Fujimoto would maintain the density that Tokyoites are already familiar with, but would prioritize pedestrians, while not excluding other clean forms of transport.

Meiji Park Management and Operations, scheduled for completion in 2026, Fukuoka, Japan 

We would also see less concrete and glass exposed to the sun and a profusion of greenery, including rooftop gardens, wall gardens, and water features, some of which we can see in his plan for a park in Fukuoka due to open in next year (see above).

But backing up these visionary concepts are hard environmental policies like Japan’s commitment to cut emissions by 46% by 2030 and be carbon neutral by 2050.

The best way to get a clear idea of how of our future cities may look is to pay a visit to the high-rise Mori Art Museum, a monument to an earlier age of architecture, and visit the exhibition now on there dedicated to Fujimoto’s career.

L'Arbre Blanc (The White Tree) (2019) Montpellier, France. Photo: Iwan Baan

The Architecture of Sou Fujimoto: Primordial Forest Future (now until 9th November) is the first major survey of his work, and definitely a lot bigger than the exhibition at the Watarium that first introduced his work to Tokyoites back in 2010. It is divided into eight sections, covering everything from his early designs to projects currently underway, as well as the features of his architecture and the philosophy behind it (see above). There you will see installations, large-scale models, various mock-ups, and much else.

So what does Fujimoto want visitors to take away from the exhibition?

"The basic message is that architecture is something interesting and fun, and architecture design is not something far from your daily life, but is always close. Also I want visitors to realize that architectural design can create a place for many different kinds of people and many different activities to stay together and sometimes be linked together. This is like a model of society, as well as architecture."

House of Music, Hungary (2021) Budapest. Photo: Iwan Baan

So, can Fujimoto’s architecture save Tokyo—and other Japanese and World cities—from the enormous threats and challenges they face in a world of radical climate change and geopolitical chaos?

We certainly hope so, because there are simply too many of us here to all leave at once!