Architect, Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts
Question: How did you come into contact with Joseph and Emily Pulitzer, the clients who commissioned you to design the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts?
Tadao Ando: The first encounter with the Pulitzers was in the spring of 1991. My wife and I visited their home in St. Louis through an invitation extended through James Wood, the director of The Art Institute of Chicago.
My wife and I knew about the important role the Pulitzer family has played in the United States, and of course we were aware of the Pulitzer Prize. But when the name “Pulitzer” is written in Japanese, it is pronounced differently from the way it sounds in English, so we did not have any idea that the people we were visiting were related to that family. We were surprised to arrive at this home and see a Richard Serra piece on the lawn, works by Monet and Rodin in the house. We thought these might be copies—but really well done!
When we got back to our hotel, we received a telephone call from our friend Tom Pritzker, who asked us about our visit to the home of such important art collectors. It was only then that we understood we had been with the Pulitzers. Fortunately, we had a chance to go back the next day to enjoy the art!
After that encounter, I came to know Mr. and Mrs. Pulitzer's great passion and knowledge about art. They really loved what they collected.
Q: Did that early encounter give you any idea of what they might want from an architect?
TA: What I remember best from that early meeting is Joseph Pulitzer talking about an Ellsworth Kelly painting, saying that when he first saw it, he felt as if he were standing in front of the Parthenon. The Kelly painting gave him that sense of simple perfection. This is what Joseph and Emily Pulitzer were after.
That experience has extended beyond the Pulitzers to include the artists who are their friends. For example, Ellsworth Kelly came to visit the Naoshima Museum of Contemporary Art in Japan, which I designed, and spent two days there. Later on, I learned that he was the one who had recommended me to the Pulitzers. So did Richard Serra. So I felt a strong sense of responsibility toward the Pulitzers. A lot of people had spoken well of me to them, so I knew I had to do something very good here.
Q: What were the beginnings of the project?
TA: Originally, the Pulitzers asked me to work on renovating and expanding an existing building, which had formerly been used as an automobile repair shop. I very clearly remember the eagerness with which Joseph Pulitzer showed us around the place. I spent some time on that project and came up with a schematic design. But I felt then that Mrs. Pulitzer was not wholeheartedly devoted to that project. Later on, I understood that after she came to visit my works in Japan, she decided that it would be more appropriate for me to make a completely new building on a different site.
Q: So the program and site changed, after you’d done a schematic design. What did that decision mean to you?
TA: It told me that Emily Pulitzer has a very strong dream and determination for this foundation. With the new building and its works of art, she is determined to make a statement about architecture in America and the direction in which it might go. I think she has also made a strong statement by creating this foundation in St. Louis, rather than in another place such as New York City, to show that art and architecture belong rightfully to all people, not only those in the biggest cities. This is why she wanted a blank site on which this project could originate.
Q: Was it difficult for you to make the transition from the original renovation and expansion project to this new initiative?
TA: Some time passed before the clients decided to create a new building on a different site. There were many times during this period when I thought the project probably would not be realized. Meanwhile, the clients were going through a long process of thought about the right site and program for this foundation.
For me, what sustained the project during this time was Mrs. Pulitzer's passion for contemporary art. Without that, it would have been very easy just to give up.
Q: Was there also a protracted design development period?
TA: Yes, it took a long time to develop the final version. Although we discussed the goals and direction of the design and came to an agreement about them, Joe Pulitzer unfortunately did not live to see the finished design. But there was an important reason for the design’s taking so long—the clients wanted to have a perfect space. It took time to look at the drawings, and then more time to show the drawings to Richard Serra and Ellsworth Kelly, so they could think about what they might do in the space.
This was a long, thoughtful process. And if you consider who was involved in it—Emily Pulitzer, Richard Serra, Ellsworth Kelly—you realize these are people who do not compromise in their work. We all had to think in order to achieve a resolution. And so I am very happy about the working relationship we had on this project. I feel the result is very rewarding.
Q: One of the stated purposes for building the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts was to help revitalize the Grand Center neighborhood of St. Louis. How did you, as an architect, think about the context of St. Louis?
TA: I think of St. Louis in terms of American history. The East Coast, especially New England, I think of in terms of religion, above all Puritanism. But the Mississippi River, for me, is a place of settlers, who began to build their dwellings along this dividing line that runs all the way down to New Orleans. In my mind, St. Louis has the image of a settlement halfway down this river; and at the same time, it also contains modern images, like Saarinen’s arch.
Within this city and its layers of history, I was given a place to build that was a flat site with no particular character. It was a blank—which meant I was being given a chance to create a new order, an example for the entire city, which might influence a lot of things to come. For me, the client was trying to do something for the city by using this project as a symbol.
Q: For you, what is the most important aspect of this design?
TA: In basic terms, the building is an uncompromising box. It is simple, and yet it will not allow itself to be used for just anything. It is very specific in its nature.
I knew from the start that certain works by Ellsworth Kelly and Richard Serra would be installed in this building. My goal, therefore, was to take to the limit the relationship between the works of art and the volume of the building's space. Each has its own presence, without compromise, and yet the two complement one another. There are not many opportunities to do this—but this was one of the very rare occasions when the works of art and the architecture were realized at the same time. The artists were looking at the building design; the architect was looking at the plans of the artists.
Q: How would you situate this design within the body of your work to date?
TA: Compared to the museums I have designed, the foundation is unusually specific. For most Japanese museums, the spaces have to be flexible above all, with a lot of allowances made for temporary exhibitions and changeable installations. Here, I knew from the start which artworks were being commissioned, so I could anticipate how the space would feel. The Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts is almost like a permanent installation. With this concept in mind, right from the start, you perceive the building in a totally different context.
Q: How would you describe your architecture in relationship to Ellsworth Kelly's painting?
TA: Ellsworth Kelly's work, in the case of this project, is a simple rectangle of metal, painted in two areas of color. You might think that anybody could have made this piece; and yet everything about it is exactly right—the size, the proportions, the colors, the relationship of one part to another. It could be only what it is; it cannot be anything else.
I hope to be able to say the same thing about my work. The building is just a box. But why it has to be exactly like this, with nothing added or subtracted and nothing altered, this is what I am careful about. This is one of the reasons why I practice architecture in this way.
When you look at a Kelly painting, the most important thing is not the object itself but the perception of the people who come in contact with the object. The panel is shaped and painted to make the viewer perceive it in a certain way, and so it is the space between the painting and the viewer that is most important. This sort of interaction is what I'm after in my architecture. Within the simplicity of this box you discover qualities that make you aware of the specialness of the space or the things around you.
Q: How do you achieve those special qualities within a simple box?
TA: It has to do with your perception of space. Let's say you have a tall room, which you enter through a lower space. You experience one space in relation to another. The surprise, the emotion, of how you perceive the space comes from what you see before and what you see after. This is architecture.
In the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts, I have tried to get the maximum effect from this kind of composition. For example, the reflecting pool in the middle of the building is not very long; but you perceive it as long because the proportion is very narrow. A similar play of perception is involved in the asymmetry, or imbalance, of the building. You perceive each part in relation to another; each part emphasizes what the other is.
With the installation of the works by Kelly and Serra, you have yet another complication of these relationships. The space becomes even more interesting, even more layered. And the final layer will be the people who enter into the space, bringing their movement and experience. It is the interplay of all these factors that will create the effect of the building.
Q: We’ve spoken about the relationship between your architecture and Ellsworth Kelly's painting. Could you tell us about how you see Richard Serra's work, and how you worked with him?
TA: There is a Richard Serra sculpture at the Pulitzer home, a work that shows how well Serra can understand a site. It could be described as three metal plates, which appear and disappear in the landscape. You feel those three plates have to be exactly where they are. There is one perfect way for them to exist within that context.
In order for me to achieve something like that at the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts, I had to understand both the context and also the artist with whom I was working. Serra and I influenced one another; but we tried not to let that happen in a way that would lead to compromises. We tried to show that A and B could co-exist, each in its own essence, and could inspire one another without losing their individual strength.
Of course, Serra and I discussed the site where the work would be located. We also talked about the size of the sculpture, which kept getting bigger and bigger. In fact, there was a point when I worried about whether the space would be large enough for the piece! But at last we knew that the sculpture and the space would be right together.
Q: It is well known from your work in Japan that your architecture demands the most exacting craftsmanship: that the surface of your concrete panels must be finished to a silky perfection, that every element in the building must be aligned with absolute precision. What are your impressions of the quality of American craftsmanship?
TA: If you look at the Chrysler Building or the Empire State Building, you see something of very high craftsmanship, in terms of how Americans could work with stone, steel, glass, and even wood. But after that, for 30 or 40 years, almost everything was done commercially, in an approximate way.
Somehow, care and skill in craftsmanship have remained within the DNA of American builders. If we insist that they can do it, they respond. And it's important to insist on this, and to insist now, because if you do not let people use this talent, it will die, and then it can't be brought back again.
For this reason, it was important that Mrs. Pulitzer was so often on the site. She knows the process, and she was able to make the right decisions when problems arose. The encouragement for craftsmanship has to come from the owner, and she was always there when we needed her help.
Q: The Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts is your first public building in the United States. What does it mean to you to build in America?
TA: In the second half of the 20th century, the great pioneers of European modernism came to America: Gropius to Boston, Mies to Chicago, Neutra and Schindler to Los Angeles. The seed of Europe bloomed in America. This blossoming of modern architecture was possible here because of two things: the booming economy, of course, but also the legacy of the Chicago School, whose architectural innovation opened the way for this to happen. So America has made a very big contribution to the ability of people around the world to build what they want to build, or what they have dreamed about.
For me, the works of Louis Kahn truly express American culture. Kahn was trained in America but went to Europe to learn about classicism at the source, which was very important to him throughout his career. With the legacy that Mies left for American culture, and subsequently the works of Louis Kahn, I feel that America has set a global course for the architecture of our time.
As for me: I was born and raised in Osaka, which is very close to Kyoto, and so I developed a feeling for the classical order of Japanese architecture. Later, I studied the classics of Western architecture and tried to use what I had learned, along with the traditions that were closer to hand. I owe a lot to Mies and Kahn—to a tradition of American architecture—and I have tried to incorporate that with my personal experience.
Q: You have said that it is sometimes possible to hear the voice, or voices, of a building. When the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts is finished, what voices do you hope to hear in it?
TA: Having seen how people worked on the site, I feel that their attention and care and thought will be apparent to everyone who visits this building. It will be like hearing the voices of the people who worked here. There will also be voices coming from the artworks in the space. I hope there will be a harmony between the two: the voices of the artworks on display, and the voices that tell how the building came into existence.
