31/07/06 , Val Ross, Rebirth of the Cool
Post
"A lot has changed," Kuwabara says, looking not so much cool as happy. He fans photos across the boardroom table: Two small faces with dark heads and busy fingers, surrounded by bright toys. "I'm a father," he says.
His own father, Masao Kuwabara, who had been interned in the Second World War, died in August, 2002. At the funeral ceremonies, Bruce Kuwabara was reminded, "The Buddhist image of life is like an ocean . . . as one wave passes, another one is formed." Four weeks after the funeral, after a whirlwind courtship, he married Victoria Jackman, head of the philanthropic Jackman Foundation. Their son Thomas Masao (Mas) is now almost 3; their daughter Vita will be 2 in November. "I now think about the future more than I ever did before," Kuwabara said in his RAIC speech. "Everything is new again."
One of KPMB's many strong suits is making old architecture new again — such as the new atrium and concert hall rising behind Toronto's polychromatic 19th-century Royal Conservatory of Music, and the new spaces the team designed for Canada's National Ballet School and the Gardiner Museum of Ceramic Art, also both in Toronto.
Kuwabara grabs a felt pen (momentarily dismayed to realize that he's sketching on the back of a printout photo of Vita and Mas) to explain how he and Blumberg worked on the Gardiner: "We wanted the roof to set relationships with the building next door, and the Royal Ontario Museum across the street. These relationships aren't god-given. What the architect does is establish the latent potential of the site."
As well as harmonizing proportions and lines, KPMB replaced the building's pinkish façade with Indiana limestone to match its neighbours; the building, once set back from the street, was brought forward. A new third floor increased exhibition space; its generous windows reveal unexpected vistas of nearby rooftops and the ROM'scarved façade. "It's breathtaking," says Gardiner executive director Alexandra Montgomery, delighted by what has been done (on a modest $20-million budget). "It has changed the scale of the Gardiner without changing the essence."
While the Gardiner is proudly listed in The Architecture of Kuwabara Payne McKenna Blumberg, the book makes no mention of another KPMB project, Canada's National Ballet School. This disjointed a nose or two at the book's launch in 2004 (What, aren't we good enough? some balletomanes demanded).
The omission was understandable: Another architect, Philip Goldsmith, did the plan for the school's expansion. Goldsmith Borgal renovated the complex's old buildings, a Victorian-era school and a yellow brick 1856 mansion, and chose KPMB for the new elements. "At first, KPMB saw it as a joint venture. As it became more successful, they became more proud of their involvement," says Goldsmith.
Kuwabara only realized last year just how well the school turned out. Walking past one dark night, he looked up to see dancers in the bright studios, and noted the way dark alternated with light, old buildings with new. "I had a eureka moment," he says. What he values about the school now, he says, is, "It's not about itself alone. It's about the whole street."
Last year, Andrew Blum, contributing editor at Metropolis, the New York architecture magazine, moderated a panel with Kuwabara, his former teacher Jack Diamond, Daniel Libeskind and Will Alsop to talk about Toronto's cultural building projects. "Introducing Bruce was a bit of a joke," says Blum. "The other architects had one project each, while KPMB's name was on seven." As discussion grew heated, Kuwabara stayed cool and diplomatic. For Blum, Kuwabara's special qualities are "quietness, urbaneness, a sense of textures and materials — a sensitivity that is particularly Torontonian."
Lately, says Kuwabara, he has been reconsidering Toronto's peculiar challenges. When a young architect from Paris joined the firm, Kuwabara asked why he'd left for Toronto. "He told me, 'Paris is beautiful. But it's 19th-century. Here it's lively, there's old and new, high and low.' Toronto's architecture is polyglot. You either consider it a mishmash, or vital."
Kuwabara has made it his challenge to build harmonies in the cacophonous cityscape, but his interests are now moving in new directions. Eagerly, Kuwabara explains the key features of KPMB's Manitoba Hydro project in Winnipeg, which aims to be the world's most energy-efficient building of its size (22 storeys). It has geothermal shafts reaching deep into the Earth to regulate the temperature; stainless-steel cables with water dripping down to a pool in the main hall to serve as both art and humidifier. "If you'd told me . . . at architectural school that mechanical engineering would be a big part of our work, I'd say you were daft," says Blumberg. Now, "there's no question that this direction is our future."
In his gold-medal acceptance speech, Kuwabara recalled the tropical fish he had kept as a child. "Aquariums are finite ecologies, fragile environments within which everything needs to be balanced and maintained. . . . There is a strong connection between childhood passions and future careers." For years, Bruce Kuwabara erected a cool image; more recently he's constructed harmonies for our fractured cities. Now, he's thinking about how to build a more balanced, sustainable world.
His own father, Masao Kuwabara, who had been interned in the Second World War, died in August, 2002. At the funeral ceremonies, Bruce Kuwabara was reminded, "The Buddhist image of life is like an ocean . . . as one wave passes, another one is formed." Four weeks after the funeral, after a whirlwind courtship, he married Victoria Jackman, head of the philanthropic Jackman Foundation. Their son Thomas Masao (Mas) is now almost 3; their daughter Vita will be 2 in November. "I now think about the future more than I ever did before," Kuwabara said in his RAIC speech. "Everything is new again."
One of KPMB's many strong suits is making old architecture new again — such as the new atrium and concert hall rising behind Toronto's polychromatic 19th-century Royal Conservatory of Music, and the new spaces the team designed for Canada's National Ballet School and the Gardiner Museum of Ceramic Art, also both in Toronto.
Kuwabara grabs a felt pen (momentarily dismayed to realize that he's sketching on the back of a printout photo of Vita and Mas) to explain how he and Blumberg worked on the Gardiner: "We wanted the roof to set relationships with the building next door, and the Royal Ontario Museum across the street. These relationships aren't god-given. What the architect does is establish the latent potential of the site."
As well as harmonizing proportions and lines, KPMB replaced the building's pinkish façade with Indiana limestone to match its neighbours; the building, once set back from the street, was brought forward. A new third floor increased exhibition space; its generous windows reveal unexpected vistas of nearby rooftops and the ROM'scarved façade. "It's breathtaking," says Gardiner executive director Alexandra Montgomery, delighted by what has been done (on a modest $20-million budget). "It has changed the scale of the Gardiner without changing the essence."
While the Gardiner is proudly listed in The Architecture of Kuwabara Payne McKenna Blumberg, the book makes no mention of another KPMB project, Canada's National Ballet School. This disjointed a nose or two at the book's launch in 2004 (What, aren't we good enough? some balletomanes demanded).
The omission was understandable: Another architect, Philip Goldsmith, did the plan for the school's expansion. Goldsmith Borgal renovated the complex's old buildings, a Victorian-era school and a yellow brick 1856 mansion, and chose KPMB for the new elements. "At first, KPMB saw it as a joint venture. As it became more successful, they became more proud of their involvement," says Goldsmith.
Kuwabara only realized last year just how well the school turned out. Walking past one dark night, he looked up to see dancers in the bright studios, and noted the way dark alternated with light, old buildings with new. "I had a eureka moment," he says. What he values about the school now, he says, is, "It's not about itself alone. It's about the whole street."
Last year, Andrew Blum, contributing editor at Metropolis, the New York architecture magazine, moderated a panel with Kuwabara, his former teacher Jack Diamond, Daniel Libeskind and Will Alsop to talk about Toronto's cultural building projects. "Introducing Bruce was a bit of a joke," says Blum. "The other architects had one project each, while KPMB's name was on seven." As discussion grew heated, Kuwabara stayed cool and diplomatic. For Blum, Kuwabara's special qualities are "quietness, urbaneness, a sense of textures and materials — a sensitivity that is particularly Torontonian."
Lately, says Kuwabara, he has been reconsidering Toronto's peculiar challenges. When a young architect from Paris joined the firm, Kuwabara asked why he'd left for Toronto. "He told me, 'Paris is beautiful. But it's 19th-century. Here it's lively, there's old and new, high and low.' Toronto's architecture is polyglot. You either consider it a mishmash, or vital."
Kuwabara has made it his challenge to build harmonies in the cacophonous cityscape, but his interests are now moving in new directions. Eagerly, Kuwabara explains the key features of KPMB's Manitoba Hydro project in Winnipeg, which aims to be the world's most energy-efficient building of its size (22 storeys). It has geothermal shafts reaching deep into the Earth to regulate the temperature; stainless-steel cables with water dripping down to a pool in the main hall to serve as both art and humidifier. "If you'd told me . . . at architectural school that mechanical engineering would be a big part of our work, I'd say you were daft," says Blumberg. Now, "there's no question that this direction is our future."
In his gold-medal acceptance speech, Kuwabara recalled the tropical fish he had kept as a child. "Aquariums are finite ecologies, fragile environments within which everything needs to be balanced and maintained. . . . There is a strong connection between childhood passions and future careers." For years, Bruce Kuwabara erected a cool image; more recently he's constructed harmonies for our fractured cities. Now, he's thinking about how to build a more balanced, sustainable world.
Home