The New National Stadium of Japan which was constructed for the next year's Tokyo Olympic Games was officially open today, on 30 the of November, 2019.
Actually, my book entitled "The Olympics and The Japanese Spirit" published last year was translated into English this year by an American, Dr. Robert D. Eldridge.
For the English version, I put some modifications in the book and added a chapter about the Tokyo Olympics and The New National Stadium. On this celebration day, I would like to quote this chapter as below. I hope you will enjoy reading it.
(日本語版はこちら:
https://kunikosuzuki.blogspot.com/2019/11/blog-post.html)
The Tokyo Olympics and the New National
Stadium
It wouldn’t do to not touch upon the
construction of the National Stadium while writing about “Japanese Culture and
the Olympics.” I felt it deserved its own chapter.
Recently
I’ve been reading numerous works by the world-famous architect, Kuma Kengo, who
is the architect of the new national stadium and had previously designed the world-famous
Portland Japanese Garden.[i] I’ve come to understand,
through his Naze Boku ga Shinkokuritsu Kyōgijō o
Tsukuru no ka (Why am I Building
the New National Stadium), for example, that the
stadiums that symbolize the Olympics, especially both the old and new National
Stadiums here in Japan itself, are themselves part of culture and reflect the
era and nation in which they were built. It was seeing the National Stadium
designed by Tange Kenzō
for the 1964 Tokyo Olympics that made Kuma Kengo want to become an architect.
Architecture also can be art.
The
process for the construction of the new national stadium for the 2020 Tokyo
Olympics was a complicated one. Initially a proposal by Zaha Hadid, an Iraqi
female architect, was chosen through the New National Stadium Japan
International Design Competition. This choice drew my interest, both because a
woman had been chosen and because she was originally from Iraq, a country that
is still in chaos. This decision would be reexamined for cost and environmental
reasons, however. Ultimately, a new competition held and a joint venture by
Taisei Corporation, Azusa Sekkei, and Kengo Kuma & Associations was
contracted to build the stadium.[ii]
While
the 1964 National Stadium was an architectural work that symbolized Japan’s
high-speed economic growth era, recovery from the devastation of World War II,
and the national enthusiasm for hosting Japan’s first Olympics, the New
National Stadium for the 2020 games—which will be larger in both size and
capacity—uses different concepts to represent Japan. This is also mentioned in
the above referenced work, but the architecture of the building makes extensive
use of wood and makes the most of the environment of the nearby outer gardens
of Meiji Shrine.
It
has long been said that Japan has a culture of wood and Europe has a culture of
stone. In Japan, people live in wooden buildings that allow wind to flow
through them and they’ve stored their treasures in the same. The Tsurezuregusa
(a medieval collection of essays) envisions cool homes that wind can easily
enter, noting that “homes should be made with the summer in mind.” The Shōsōin
is a raised wooden storehouse where treasures that arrived in Japan hundreds or
even thousands of years ago from far off places along the Silk Road are
preserved with care. Meanwhile, the West has strong brick walls that prioritize
warmth over allowing air to pass. Stone walls also served as barriers offering
protection from enemies and fire.
Japan’s
shrines and temples were originally built in places of abundant nature, in the
mountains or woods. While you will now sometimes see torii gates and
small shrines in the middle of cities, surrounded by concrete buildings, they
were originally placed away from human habitation. Even when inside towns they
would be in places lush with greenery. This is because the Japanese people
treasure coexistence with nature and believed that the gods lived in it. Of
course, there were similar beliefs in the West, such as the belief in Finland
and other countries that fairies lived in the woods. These beliefs produced
Christmas and other unique cultural practices. But in the Japanese language we
do not, for example, speak of “conquering” mountains. We believe that
everything—mountains, stones along the roadside, insects—is equal to humanity
and we value coexistence and harmony with nature.
The
New National Shrine, a massive building, is being built in the outer gardens of
Meiji Shrine. Many trees are being used in its construction. Trees and forests
cannot live without water. This is why, at the entrances to shrines, there will
be a place with running water that can be used to purify your hands and rinse
your mouth. It has been said that with the construction of the New National
Stadium, the portion of the Shibuya River that was covered up at the time of
the former National Stadium’s construction will be restored. I look forward to
the water’s return.
On
October 10, 2018, the 54th anniversary of the first Tokyo Olympics,
I went out to see the New National Stadium as it was under construction. I’ll
reproduce here these impressions, borrowing from what I wrote on my blog at
that time.[iii]
On October 10, 1964, 54 years ago today,
the first Olympics in Asia began when Emperor Showa declared the opening of the
Tokyo games. I published my first single-authored work, The Olympics and the
Japanese Spirit, on June 23 of this year. This afternoon (a day blessed with a clear
autumnal sky like that one so many years ago), I set out for the outer gardens
of Meiji Shrine to try to get in touch with that starting point. I began at the offices of Kuma Kengo & Associates in
Minami Aoyama, Tokyo. This is where the New National Stadium was designed. It
is scheduled to be completed in November 2019, in time for the 2020 Tokyo
Olympics. I could feel the energy. The building has a simple presence. It is
located in a quiet place just off from a busy street. There is no sign out
front. The first floor of the building is a Japanese restaurant with a small
bamboo-lined path, but from the second floor on it is a bright, wide-open
office.
Coincidentally, my decision to start here also had
another meaning. This is because one of my friends had practiced the tea
ceremony for many years in a location very nearby. Her sensei passed
away very recently (in late September) at the age of 94. She had continued to
teach the tea ceremony until the very end. I had met her twice on occasions
when my friend had invited me to partake in the ceremony and she had been very
kind. Japanese traditional culture and modern construction. 1964 and 2020. I
began my Olympic walk in Aoyama on October 10 merging these two times and
spaces. I came face-to-face with the Meiji Memorial Picture Gallery as I turned
from Aoyama-dōri Avenue onto the tree-lined
road leading to the outer gardens. I bowed my head without thinking. I began
walking down the street, sort of bowing as I did so. Ginkgo leaves, the symbol
of Tokyo, began falling onto the ground as I walked, creating a pretty scene.
It was as if they were a signpost point towards the Tokyo Olympics of two years
from now.
With the light of a fall afternoon
shining down on me and the green arch of the tree-lined road, I recalled a
picture by the impressionist Camille Pissarro that I saw long ago. The modern
Olympics that began in France. This year being the 160th Anniversary
of Franco-Japanese relations. Japonisme and the history between France and
Japan during that time. The light of the French Impressionists. It was
interesting how all of these things were being overlaid upon the calm fall
scenery of Tokyo in the 21st Century in my mind. I continued to walk, seeking that starting point of 54
years ago as the natural light and air embraced me. Noticing the sound of cars,
a whitish building came into view as I headed for the greenery of the park. I
asked, “Is that the New National Stadium...?” I became excited, as if I had
discovered a hidden treasure. I entered a small relaxing park and stared at
from amidst its greenery.
And then I drew closer. While the New National Stadium
that appeared before my eyes was giant, I didn’t feel any sense of oppression
or of being overwhelmed. It was like it was trying to tell me something. I’ve
read numerous articles in which Kuma Kengo talks about the New National
Stadium. He said that pine and cedar was used in its construction. The use of
pine made me think of the checkered pattern chosen for the Olympics’ emblem (as
the Japanese word for “checkered” includes the kanji character for
pine). And there are always pine trees painted on the backdrops of the Noh
stages where Nomura Mansai and other actors dance (Nomura
will be overseeing the ceremonies for the 2020 Tokyo Recovery Olympics). And I
couldn’t forget the Miracle Pine of Rikuzentakata City, Iwate Prefecture. This
was a lone pine tree that survived the massive tsunami of 2011 and continued to
stretch high into the sky. When I visited the Iwate Prefectural Government Office
in late June, one of the officials working there had a picture of the Miracle
Pine on their business card. Even seven years later, seeing the tree had an effect
on me. I have heard that cedar trees from all 47 prefectures have been used in
the construction of the New National Stadium. While it must have been difficult
gathering them from so many places, I thought that was wonderful. The idea came
from the concept that the New National Stadium should be a place of support for
everyone, from Hokkaidō Prefecture to Okinawa Prefecture.
A place where the entire nation welcomes the people of the world with omotenashi.
And one that creates harmony by bringing the various regions together at the
New National Stadium while still maintaining their individuality. Speaking of
all the prefectures, running or walking around the edge of the imperial palace,
you will notice that all of the prefectural flowers are drawn on the ground
surrounding the palace. And all forty-seven prefectural trees are planted in
the park in front of the Diet Building, where our parliament meets. The
imperial palace, Diet building, and the New National Stadium bring all of the
prefectures together. All of the country exists in Tokyo. All of the country
gathers in Tokyo. That’s why the Tokyo Olympics are an Olympics for all of
Japan.[iv] At
the end of Kuma’s aforementioned book, he writes that “I will use many, many
trees.” The thought of using so many trees makes me remember an “experience the
forest” event that I participated in with children. This event provided them
with the experience of going into the forest and felling trees like a
lumberjack (while wearing heavy gloves and a helmet). I remember being told at
the time that “It takes a day to catch a fish. It takes six months to a year to
harvest a crop. But it takes decades before you can use a tree.” That made an
impression on me. The point here is that of the fields of agriculture, forestry,
and fishing, forestry is particularly difficult because you don’t know whether
you will be able to see the fruits of your labors within your lifetime. I’ve
heard that forestry is in decline in Japan. But even so, a national
tree-planting festival is held every year and attended by Their Majesties. This
year’s was held in Fukushima. Their Majesties are truly kind-hearted and
disaster-affected areas are never far from their mind. I realized something
else as I cut trees. Cutting excess trees improves the amount of sunlight that
the remaining trees receive. While it might seem wasteful at first to cut down
trees, removing some helps the others to grow better. I feel that this method
has some things in common with Japanese culture. In Ikebana, excess
leaves and flowers are removed to make empty space important. Doing this makes
the flowers look better. There is a famous story about how Sen no Rikyū once greeted a guest by cutting the morning glories that
flourished in his garden, leaving just one behind. And the use of empty space
and whiteness is considered important in traditional Japanese painting. In Noh,
the limited expressions on the masks and the quiet gestures of the actors do
not reveal everything, leaving the rest to the imaginations of the audience.
Western flower arrangements feature many flowers arranged gorgeously and the
entire white canvas is covered in Western paintings. The space between the
trees allows not just light to pass through them but also wind. Water is also
allowed through. If too many trees are taken, it can lead to flooding. But
taking the correct amount allows rainwater to permeate the ground. An
earthquake in Ōsaka. Heavy rains in western
Japan. Typhoon Jebi. A sweltering summer. This year, I was made acutely aware
that Japan is a country with many natural disasters. While climate change is
partially responsible for this, looking back over the history of Japan, the same
things have been happening for hundreds of years (with volcanic eruptions as
well). The Japanese people have coexisted with nature while being subjected to
its wonders. It recently occurred to me that the Japanese belief in the value
of harmony is a wisdom born of this experience. People could not survive amidst
unrelenting nature unless they helped one another. Fighting amongst themselves
meant extinction. The Olympics are a festival of peace. There was incessant
conflict between the city-states of Ancient Greece. But warfare halted during
the Olympics. I wrote above that cutting down trees allows sunlight and wind to
pass through them. People also need sunlight, air, and water to live. Human
civilization developed alongside water. Our ancient civilizations sprang up
next to rivers. At the time of the construction of the New National Stadium,
Kuma Kengo argued for the importance of the environment and touched upon the
possible rebirth of the part of the Shibuya River that was filled in 1964. I
cannot confirm today, October 10, that that will happen. But returning this
water will provide the local living environment with richness. And no one
understands the preciousness of water more than the Crown Prince (Emperor as of
May 1, 2019) as he has conducted research on it. In two years, that Crown
Prince will, as the new emperor, declare the opening of the Tokyo Olympics
here. After viewing the New National Stadium, I turned to go to the Meiji
Memorial Picture Gallery as this is the 150th anniversary year of
the Meiji Restoration. As I did so, I saw a Japanese flag flying high in the
sky, just like the flags raised high at the Olympics when Japanese Olympians
win medals. I was overcome with happiness, feeling as if it were almost
cheering on Japan at the Olympics.
As I was getting excited, an older man riding a bicycle
called over to me. He was full of life and told me about how he’d lived near
here ever since he was young and used to play here all the time. The water in
the fountain would freeze in winter and we’d have fun cracking the ice. When I
got back from being evacuated after the Tokyo Air Raids (of March 1945), there
was an incendiary bomb sticking out over there. They always make me move when
there’s an Olympics. This is the second time.” When I asked him how old he was,
he told me he was 85. Still in good health, he now visits elementary schools
and the like, where he teaches children outside games like jumping rope and
speaks about his wartime experiences.
This
lively 85-year-old man, who rides his bicycle at a speed that would put younger
people to shame, has had to move twice because of the construction of national
stadiums. He still lives near the Meiji Shrine outer gardens, however, and I’ve
been able to interview him twice.
His name is Jinno Kōhei. One of nine brothers, he
created a family baseball team that used to play sandlot ball in the outer
gardens. He lived in a large house until the construction of the National
Stadium for the 1964 Olympics forced him to move into a small apartment. He was
still happy about the Olympics however, collecting the commemorative stamps and
coins issued at the time and buying tickets to events. He used to run a general
store (selling stationary and the like) outside of the stadium. The small
shopping area had a community and he enjoyed the neighborhood's festivals and
events.
He
had to move again with the building of the New National Stadium and the
shopping area’s community was dispersed. He now lives in city housing but doesn’t
know the people there and he can't hold festivals the way he used to. He always
spoke with a smile and didn’t show any anger about being evicted. But he had a
slightly lonely expression as he showed me photos of the old festivals and
thought of the past. Even so, he told me that he’s busy volunteering at
elementary schools and a center for the elderly. He enjoys playing jump rope
and making rice cakes at elementary schools and kindergartens. Both are
activities where teamwork and rhythm are important. Jinno said that in any
case, he enjoys playing outside with children. The idea of incorporating sports
and traditional culture into education has some similarities with the thinking
of Baron de Coubertin, the creator of the modern Olympics.
Viewing
the under-construction New National Stadium that he had designed from above,
Kuma said the following: “It’s best if people can live in a way that treats
each neighborhood identity as important, for them to say ‘I live in Kagurazaka’
or ‘I’m living in Ikebukuro.’ The role of community is extremely important in
that sense.”[v]
It
occurred to me that no one valued that kind of community more than Jinno. He
had enjoyed playing, working, and interacting with people in the shrine’s outer
gardens every day, whether it was hot or cold out. He had lived that way for
decades. I’m sure he would have said, “I’m enjoying living here.” The smiling
face of that old man on a bicycle with his hat just came to mind.
[i] See, for
example, Kuma Kengo, Shizen na Kenchiku
[Natural Architecture], (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2008); Kuma Kengo, Naze Boku ga Shin Kokuritsu Kyōgijō o Tsukuru no ka: Kenchikuka Kuma
Kengo no Kakugō
[Why am I Building the New National Stadium: The
Architect Kuma Kengo's Resolve], (Tokyo: Nikkei BP, 2016); and Yōrō Takeshi and Kuma Kengo, Nihonjin wa Dō
Sumau Beki ka? (How Should the Japanese Live?), (Tokyo:
Shinchōsha,
2012).
[ii] For more
on these three groups, see Kuma’s Naze Boku ga Shinkokuritsu Kyōgijō o
Tsukuru no ka.
[iii] “October
10 Health and Sports Day (Olympic Walking Path),” from Suzuki Kuniko’s Blog,
“Building Our Future,” for October 12, 2018.
[iv] In “From
Concrete to Wood: What Comes After Industrial Society,” the third lecture in
Professor Kuma Kengo's final lecture series held at the University of Tokyo’s
Yasuda Auditorium on June 1, 2019, Kuma spoke about using cedar from all
forty-seven prefectures in the building of the New National Stadium. Fukao
Seiichi, who was also in attendance, revealed that pine was substituted for
Okinawa prefecture, as cedar does not grow there.
[v] “Tokyo
Mirai Gorin ga Kono Machi o Tsukutta, Kenchikuka Kuma Kengo x Shin Kokuritsu
Kyogijo [Future Tokyo The Olympics Made This Town Architect Kuma Kengo and the
New National Stadium],” Yomiuri Shimbun,
February 14, 2019, p. 21
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