Several years ago, when Rem Koolhaas has become one of the most talked about architects, I had the rare opportunity not only to visit one of the houses he designed, but to stay there for a few days while in Paris. The house called Villa dall’Ava, which was completed in 1991, had received worldwide attention in the architecture world.

I had first seen Rem Koolhaas’s work (it was an architecture model) at MOMA in the early ’90s, right around the time the distinguished Japanese architect Tadao Ando had his major exhibition at the museum. Ando back then was considered to be one of the ten most important architects in the word, and Koolhaas was still on the rise. However, although I don’t remember much about Ando’s exhibition at MOMA, I can still clearly visualize the architecture model by Koolhaas in my mind.

Generally, for Japanese, precision craftsmanship means average in skill, and the architecture model I had seen at MOMA was almost sacrilege in that respect. Everything was out of alignment and irregular, hardly anything was straight. I couldn’t understand how someone could make something with such a lack of precision… and had wondered how the actual architecture would look like, especially the details of it.

An architecture model is neither a sculpture nor a painting - it is merely a tool to examine the design and get some degree of understanding of how the actual architecture will look. Much against my expectation, Villa Dall’Ava turned out to be an architectural gem. There was a strange harmony of strength and fragility. To tell the truth, I was disappointed not to find any sign of “sacrilege” there. However there was something convincing and persuasive about the design… the house was whispering in my ear, “Imperfection is beautiful.” The house felt like it has its own life. It was cold but warm, heavy but light, filled with intimate contrasts which I’ve never found in Tadao Ando’s architectures.

This is, of course, not to say imperfection would necessarily add a human touch to a work of art, but after having used my hands to create art for many years, I have finally realized that a work with impeccable finish often lacked the warmth of human ki (qi or 気).

ー１９９９年に、パリ近郊にある、レム・コールハース設計の住宅ヴィラ・ダラヴァに滞在した時の思い出と、MOMAでの建築展で見たコールハースの建築模型の印象。ー

Like many young Japanese men in the ’80s I loved Ferrari. I still remember the the mind-blowing, shivering sensation I had when I saw one of the few Ferrari F40s landed in Japan. The body designed by Pininfarina was a sculptural masterpiece, and after two decades since it’s debut I still marvel at the elegant and uncanny design. Ferrari to many is not Ferrari without Pininfarina badge on the body, and Ferrari F40 was the culmination of their many years of collaboration.

Enzo Ferrari passed away the year I moved to New York, and that pretty much ended my Ferrari worship. So did my admiration to Pininfarina design which had always been tied to Ferrari. I didn’t expect anything more from Ferrari since the F40 was Enzo’s last masterpiece just as much as the Rondanini Pietà was for Michelangelo.

When I was looking through an architecture magazine recently an image of a somehow futuristic kitchen caught my eyes. It was the ad of a kitchen appliance maker, and at the corner of the page I found a small logo which I hadn’t seen for many years, a logo which had always been on the body of a Ferrari. I could feel a grin spread across my face, a feeling similar to an unexpected reunion with an old classmate.

There’s something about this kitchen that made me feel it was for men. I am sure my partner Veronique wouldn’t like it but am happy to see a design for a kitchen that makes a Viking or Wolf look old fashioned and boring.

http://www.snaidero.com/

ーピニンファリーナのデザイインしたキッチンについて思い巡らしたことー

Happy New Year!
新年おめでとうございます！