A global architect on efficiency, culture, and why the world needs more designers working on the front lines of crisis
Balancing ambitious architectural practice with hands-on humanitarian work isn’t easy, and for years it wasn’t easy for him either. In the early stages of his career, responding to disasters meant long periods away from his studio and significant personal financial strain. But as his organization grew and his team gained the ability to operate independently, that tension eased. Today, when a crisis strikes, he can step in immediately, knowing his office can continue its work without interruption. That natural rhythm—moving between high-profile projects and urgent relief efforts—continues to shape the way he designs.
Much of his portfolio is rooted in a simple belief: socially responsible architecture can still be elegant and highly functional. His projects in Paris, Osaka, and Hiroshima all follow the same principle—start with what’s local. He focuses on reducing waste, sourcing materials close to home, and collaborating with local partners who understand the social and environmental context. To him, efficiency isn’t an add-on or a technical layer; it grows directly from the culture, climate, and materials of the place itself.
His interest in structure goes back to his early studies, when he explored patterns and geometries to find the most efficient forms. Efficiency is still central to his work, but he often uses structural patterns—like lattice systems—to align his designs with local traditions. This approach guides his material choices. It lets him build structures that are both technically sound and culturally sensitive, rather than relying on generic solutions.
His humanitarian projects, especially in disaster-hit communities, show how architecture can restore dignity. But he’s also quick to point out how few architects actually step into these environments. He believes designers can play a meaningful role in global responses, yet too often stay distant from the work. With younger generations already thinking more seriously about environmental and social issues, he hopes more architects will see humanitarian engagement as part of their responsibility. Architecture, he says, can deliver impact that goes far beyond the physical structure.
The pursuit of efficiency sits at the center of his practice, but he resists the idea that it must conflict with design. Some strict energy regulations, especially in Europe, can produce the opposite of sustainability—overbuilt structures and unnecessary material use. He prefers buildings that behave more like living systems, adapting to seasonal changes by opening, closing, shading, or catching sunlight. This thinking shaped his work in Hiroshima, where the local shipbuilding industry became an unexpected source of inspiration. Ships are optimized for performance in every detail. By collaborating with shipbuilders, he created a structure that responds to environmental forces with the same fluid efficiency while staying true to the city’s industrial identity.
As he prepares to address audiences in Dubai, his message is practical and forward-looking. He hopes for more opportunities to work in the UAE, especially with local materials like sand—a resource he has used in past proposals, including a concept for Expo Dubai. He’s fascinated by how buildings here can respond to intense sunlight and shifting climate conditions. His goal is to encourage architects in the region to think the same way: start with what the environment gives you. Let the sun, the sand, and the local context guide the design. That’s where he believes the most meaningful architecture begins.