A second approach, which is actually more common in large public buildings and other government-sponsored projects, is "traditional" construction copying earlier forms, primarily employing models from the late Ming and Ching Dynasties of the last 500 years of Chinese history. The third approach, which is perhaps more interesting and creative, is the "adaptation" route that attempts to meet the criteria of modern building design requirements, yet still integrate traditional architectural motifs. The goal is to create a distinct "Chinese style" that satisfies all the demands of modern society and simultaneously conveys a distinct Chinese "flavor."
In order to learn more about architectural change in Taiwan, FCR interviewed Harvard-educated Han Pao-teh, considered by many to be the "dean" of local architects, and asked him for his evaluations of the rapidly' altering face of Taiwan's cities.
FCR: Is there a distinct "Chinese style" of architecture emerging in Taiwan's new high-rise buildings? What features or these buildings give them a Chinese "flavor?"
A: The integration of traditional and modern architecture is an interesting problem. Like the whole issue of modernization, it has been discussed for nearly half a century in China. Conservative, liberal and mixed views all have their supporters.
The answer really depends on people's idea or explanation of culture. To be frank, those who are involved in architecture often do not understand it sufficiently in terms of culture. They are only familiar with the technical aspects. It is almost always true that a successful architect is not the best, and that the best is not the most successful. Overall, the standards of local architectural circles are not very high.
When discussing Chinese architectural tradition in light of present trends, there are several different categories to consider. One is abstract, such as the traditional room ideas of balance and symmetry, or the Chinese courtyard organization that avoids polar placement of doors. Another is the functional area, which involves changes in the whole social system. This includes shifts away from the traditional large family system and the housing required for it to new structural environments in cities. These make it very difficult for architects to keep in touch with traditional ethical concerns. A third category is substantial, more concrete than what I've just mentioned. This concerns shapes such as the roof styles, use of curves, color choices, and lattice designs for windows. Both theoretical and practical issues are involved in these categories. For the past one or two decades, the profession has emphasized the abstract side of things. But I think efforts to explore these ideals failed because the public couldn't understand architects' concerns, in spite of their attempts to transform ideals into actual buildings.
In recent years, because of the great changes in modern architectural ideas from the modern to post-modern period, the problem is no longer merely one of "shape." Instead, it is "language" that is considered a problem. Buildings are thought to be a language which should bridge tradition and modernity. It is the traditional language such as the structural shape, windows, doors, lattice-work, and other decorations that stirs the public's feelings. Therefore, many architects, including myself, transfer traditional architectural motifs to modern buildings. In doing so there are two different schools. One is my way, which is more conservative. I use directly the traditional language vocabulary. In other words, I don't change or adapt a motif such as window shape or roof style. But of course I use only those which are rational. As far as I am concerned, I haven't found any traditional vocabulary that is irrational. But I only use it when the traditional language accords with modern life. For example, I use it less in modern buildings because there is less vocabulary that can be matched. On the contrary, I use it more in cultural buildings because there are fewer functional limits, and more emotional requirements. Therefore, I can use more traditional ways.
There are others who take a different approach. They use the traditional language in a different way. For example, C. Y. Lee changes or adapts the traditional language before he integrates it into his buildings. The Ta An Public Housing Project is a good example. Like his more recent Tung Wang Han Kung public housing, he doesn't use curves. But if I were to design buildings of this sort, I would have used the curves without which I think the Chinese emotion can't be revealed. Therefore, Lee stands somewhere between modernity and tradition. I think he is affected by Western post-modernism and belongs to the tradition of adaptation. I oppose using the Western language such as domes and arches, and grasp any opportunity to use the Chinese language, which I don't think can be matched with the Western language. Each country has its own architectural language that the people find comfortable and enjoyable.
Modernism is a set of theories developed in the 1920s in Europe. The two key theories are "functionalism," that is, the building must reflect its function of use; and "structural logic," which concerns the actual construction materials. The reason traditional European buildings frequently use arches is because they were built with bricks, not concrete. Today, because we use so much concrete, we don't build arches that often. The use of concrete encourages straight lines. So the traditional ways have been deserted. The shape theory became international, and material and structure become the same in every country. This is modernism. Post-modernism developed because of public dissatisfaction. People still missed the old buildings, indicating that modernity lacked traditional, emotional elements. The modern theories could be easily understood, but something was felt to be lost and needed. People exist in coordinates of time and place. They need distinct cultural characteristics. But in internationalism they can't have these. There is no time, no space, no tradition. Everything is the same.
Chinese and Americans share the same current architectural ideas and live in the same kind of buildings. Both feel uncomfortable. So both are eager to search their own past for traditions that can supply people with things they find familiar. They can then put these into modern buildings to enhance their comfort and intimacy. The integration of modernity and tradition is a worldwide problem: it doesn't occur in China only.
FCR: Does the difference in approaches between you and C. Y. Lee occur in other countries too?
A: Yes, but not that many because they have fewer problems. They developed internationalism. It is part of their culture. After they reviewed the past, they founded post-modernism by simplifying the traditional language to express and reflect it in modern buildings. They don't care if it departs significantly from tradition because there are large numbers of traditional buildings in their societies—and they are preserved very well. So the connection of traditional and modern feelings actually can be achieved as long as the new and old buildings can be integrated. For example, an architect today won't build a completely new-styled building beside an old building. Instead, he will build it in light of the surrounding environmental circumstances and try to match it as well as possible. He will try to use the same vocabulary as the one used in the old building. This satisfies emotional requirements.
Residential high-rises by C.Y. Lee link traditional and modern designs.
But in Chinese society it is a different story. First, the traditional buildings are totally different from internationalism. If we make adaptations similar to those in the West, the effect will be different. Secondly, we haven't preserved many traditional buildings, so the situation is different from that of foreign countries, and also more serious. Many foreign countries take great care in preserving their old, traditional buildings, and some even save whole communities. We don't do it that way. Our way is inferior to the European and American approaches. In Europe many cities have been zoned for purposes of preservation, while many of our traditional life styles have disappeared. We now have "The Cultural Heritage Law," but the law is written based on the Japanese model rather than a Western one. The Japanese problem with preservation is the same as ours because their buildings were also made of wood, which can't last a long period and can't be compared with European construction. But by following the Japanese model in preserving old buildings, the result is that we are unable to achieve the same goals us the European and American models.
FCR: Is the Japanese way of preservation better than ours?
A: Their way is more advanced than ours, but our idea is the same. The approach is different from the European and American one. For example, the Americans have followed a broad protection orientation that advocates not tearing down old buildings, and is not limited to the first, second, or third class of relics. Any historical building is worth protecting and is a candidate for preservation. It is a positive approach to preservation and makes the process much easier. For example, the government will finance saving an old street area, and even those buildings that have already been torn down will be rebuilt if they are considered especially important. In this way many old buildings and styles are well preserved. Therefore, although American history is not very long, the appearance of many cities seems to be quite old. Ironically, in China—a country proud of her long history of thousands of years—most of the buildings are only two or three decades old.
FCR: Why do you think the Japanese way is not suited to the Chinese case?
A: There is a good reason why we should not copy the Japanese approach to preservation. While most of the Japanese buildings were built according to the Chinese traditional official type, most of ours were built as public architectural projects. The official way was done more carefully, but public construction was done with of course less care and effort. Since the Japanese buildings were better constructed in the first place, they can preserve things as the buildings were originally done. But we can not do it as our buildings were originally done—unless we don't mind preserving our buildings in a manner as bad as they were originally constructed!
FCR: Is this true only in Taiwan? What about mainland China?
A: There are lots of old buildings in mainland China, but they exist not because they are well preserved but because people there are too poor to tear them down and rebuild them. Quite the same situation exists for the buildings in Kinmen (Quemoy), where there are comparatively more old buildings than in Taiwan. This is not the result of movements for preservation, but because people there are comparatively poorer than people in Taiwan yet much wealthier than people in mainland China. If Kinmen had developed in the same way as the island of Taiwan, all those old buildings would have disappeared in eight or ten years. My own position is to agree with and advocate the American idea of preservation that starts with the protection of environment circumstances and the traditional structures.
FCR: Do you actively advocate preservation? Has it become a movement?
A: Yes it has. To be frank, I was the first one to start advocating this. Only I started too early, almost 25 or 26 years ago, when I wrote newspaper articles about it. But we were too poor at that time to care much about such things. The ideas influenced no one since the most urgent problem for most of the people was whether they had enough to eat. It was not until recent years, when people have plenty of food and savings as well, that this sort of problem gained any attention. Slowly a movement has evolved. Especially the youth are very enthusiastic. I think this can probably be attributed to the efforts of many people over the years, myself included. Continuous efforts have created the movement.
Moreover, the spread of the idea is indebted to help from the mass media. In early years when the media didn't carry articles on preservation, the idea had limited influence on the people. Later on I was fortunate to have a column in the China Times, and I wrote occasional articles on this topic. But no one paid much attention to them. Now with more media attention, the impact has become much stronger. But some deviation from the issues has also come about. There has been an infiltration of emotion which turns the presentation of relics into volatile issues. The words used and their way of expression can become very emotional. The result is that the preservation of relics goes too far, which in turn hinders the progress of the movement itself. Very few people think about how actually to achieve preservation. On the contrary, more and more people criticize. So it hasn't helped and has even backfired. For example, the preservation of relics of course means to restore them to their original "brand new" condition as much as possible. But there are many people who prefer the old, unpreserved relics because of their own nostalgia. They are attached to the damaged relics because they are familiar with them.
But preservation should be a rational endeavor. The mass media can give lots of assistance in this area. Generally speaking, the preservation of relics has become a social mood, a movement. The media has a special role to play, for example, in how to promote saving whole street areas that are unique, such as Tee Hua Street and Hui Te Street which well represent the old images of Taipei. In foreign countries these kinds of street areas are certainly well preserved and protected. But in our country we seem to be abandoning those areas. If the mass media keeps presenting these problems to their readers, I believe such areas can be successfully saved. My own efforts in preserving the old street area in Lukang, a famous ancient port city, was the first attempt of its kind in our country. The efforts are paying off, but it takes years of time and hard work to actually achieve the goals.
FCR: Are you going to continue leading this movement?
A: Quite often I feel very tired of this, and think it's time for the youth to take over with the assistance of the media. But I am still involved. I grasp every opportunity to advocate my ideals through interviews with newspapers, radios and TV stations, but I find that my opinions usually are ignored. Still, I am going to continue speaking up.
FCR: What is the importance of traditional construction materials? Which are used to the best advantage?
A: Materials play a pivotal role in the integration of traditional and modern motifs. For example, wood was the preferred material in the past. Since it was the basic construction material, the framework for construction also was formed of wood. Although this had a history of thousands of years, it doesn't mean that it was the best or most rational way because the basic structure was not as solid as it could be with other materials. Therefore if we still use wood, we certainly will face very difficult problems. From a practical point of view, it is not the best material for modern construction because the material doesn't last long enough. However, wood does have emotional value, and this can't be forgotten.
My way is to use the traditional construction material only if it rationally fits in a structure. Take the cultural center in Chang Hua for instance; it is a new building, a modern one. For the facade I selected Chinese traditional bricks. But I didn't use traditional materials for the roof because they would have been malfunctional. In the interior—because I assumed it was a traditional Chinese san ho yuan, or a compound with houses around a courtyard—I thought it wholly appropriate to use traditional Chinese construction materials for things such as doors and railings. I even built them in the Chinese style using traditional craft methods.
FCR: Are there any modern materials that can be used appropriately in traditional buildings?
A: There certainly are because they are much more convenient. As a matter of fact, there are no traditional buildings strictly speaking. We can only say that there are modern buildings with traditional characteristics. Therefore we can not avoid using modern construction materials. Because we have them, why don't we use them? But others disagree with this. Take the preservation of relics for instance. Many people think we should preserve relics according to each of the original details. This is the same way as the Japanese. I oppose this approach, although I am still using it. But I do so because I can't help it. If I did it differently—that is according to my own way—I would be seriously criticized. It's foolish that we don't utilize the new and better techniques and materials we now have available.
FCR: Are Taiwan's modern buildings influenced by a certain Western form of architecture or by a specific school?
A: As far as I can tell, I do not see any obvious influences. In other countries this has something to do with education. A famous architect usually teaches in a university, so it's natural that a school is formed around him at that institution. In Taiwan there is no such relationship. Most architects here were not students of any famous architects. Moreover, architects in Taiwan are not particularly exceptional. Those who do well in business are not always first rate architects. So no particular characteristics can be seen in them.
Sufficient company-owned land allowed Han to design classic forms for Nan Yuan employee recreation area.
Besides, particular architectural orientations are not important in Taiwan because the public generally does not understand the industry. There are no leaders in any walk of life who truly appreciate the profession. Architecture thus becomes a useless pursuit. In foreign countries the architect is seen as an artist and is highly respected and supported so he doesn't have to worry about insufficient opportunity to bring his ability to full play. To the contrary, architecture in our society has become nothing more than a business. There are some good products that can be found in Taipei with standards almost as high as those in foreign countries, but none of them has attained levels that may be considered works of art. The reason for this is a continuing compromise between architects and businessmen. In foreign countries architects enjoy the absolute privilege of showing the full extent of their abilities. Customers can only tell architects what they want. The rest is the architect's business. A customer can't interfere any more. But in our society this is not so. Therefore, people are asking too much if they expect architects to give outstanding results.
FCR: Are there any buildings in Taiwan that preserve Chinese tradition particularly well?
A: Because of the different definitions of tradition, I really can't answer that question.
FCR: What if we don't hold to strict definitions?
A: In fact, there is no one who really wants to make—or has made—this kind of effort because most of Taiwan's buildings are either commercial or sponsored by government agencies. These two kinds of buildings belong to the category of internationally-styled modern buildings. They do not belong to tradition. While several private buildings may have something to do with tradition, the results are rather common. Yes, it may be an attempt, but it is not an achievement.
FCR: How about your own products?
A: From the perspective of design, the Institute of Ethnology of Academia Sinica satisfies me the best. But because of insufficient budget, the final quality of the construction was not as good as I expected. Although that was beyond my control, and I don't think I ought to be responsible for that, I regret the impact on the overall general results.
FCR: What about the market? How are the traditional buildings accepted?
A: No one can be sure about this because those buildings constructed in the traditional style were not built in response to the market nor to the demands of businessmen or the general public. Take Nan Yuan, or literally Southern Land, for instance. People all agree the traditional structure is good and like it, but no one has yet built a second one, not even a similar one. The one I am doing in Nan Kun Shen, Tainan County, is for public use. So its nature is different from that of Nan Yuan, which is a private garden for recreation. From the response to these examples I would say similar buildings would be welcomed in the market.
FCR: Are you saying that if the market element is considered, traditional buildings would be impossible to build?
A: They would be profitable. But I don't think it's possible when it comes to selling them, because these must be planned as large residential areas. It just isn't possible to get such a large tract of land. The market would be there, but the land simply isn't available. It's too expensive; no one can afford it. The only possibility is to move the feeling of being Chinese into building interiors. The decoration can be Chinese. This is the way that is most frequently used.
FCR: What do Taiwan's contractors require of the architect?
A: I don't work with specific contractors, and I don't know what they generally want. But I think the public reactions to the Ta An and Tung Wang Han Kung public housing projects, both designed by C. Y. Lee, are not as good as expected. They would have been sold out if they were designed in a totally foreign, non-Chinese style.
FCR: So Taiwan's public attitude toward architecture is a hindrance to the architect?
A: Yes, and it has been so for a long time. The requirement of the contractor often hinders architects from bringing their abilities into full play, and that's what has made architecture become a business instead of a creative art.
FCR: Who is the most productive architect?
A: I'm not sure about this, but I think it may be C. Y. Lee. He seems to produce the most buildings. He is also one of the few who can refuse a contractor's offer. But his reputation is established primarily on commercial standards of judgment.
FCR: Are there any architectural commentators?
A: There are some young commentators, but I don't know any of them, and they are really not mature enough. Most of those who comment are not involved in the actual business. Therefore, their understanding of architecture is very narrow. And there is no one who understands architecture both from the viewpoint of the profession and the perspective of the whole cultural system. As a result, I don't see any authority in their comments.
In addition, the Chinese are not accustomed to critical comments because they prefer listening only to those who flatter. If you make any substantial comments, you irritate people. Therefore, only those who have nothing to do with anything or anyone involved in the field can make truthful comments—and even in making these comments they still can't go too far. That there are no comments of this sort is characteristic of Chinese writers, because our society is not a rational one that can accept or tolerate any critical commentary. The same thing occurs in architectural circles.
FCR: Who or what school influences you the most?
A: People are always influenced by someone else. No one can avoid this. Of course there are some things that I learned or discovered by myself, but there are others that are drawn from different sources. I went abroad to learn about Western architecture. Some of my professors in Harvard were pioneers of European modernism. They are very famous and their thoughts and valuable insights influenced me very much.
I went abroad in the 1960s, and was particularly impressed by the famous work of Louis Kahn, who as a matter of fact influenced all architects. He was not only a modernist architect, but also led the American faction. While I consider his ideas important, I can't say that my work is based totally on one person's approach. I have drawn on the thoughts of several people.
To put it concretely, when I was in Harvard I was encouraged in the belief that architecture is an instrument for social life. In other words, an intellectually active architect must discern the role architecture plays in society. This point of view made a very deep impression on me, and it was reinforced by the ideas of modernism, which also calls for a special role for the architect in society. For example, on the one hand you have to provide everyone a room to live in for normal existence, and on the other you have to maintain the high quality of a city when you set up a building. This is what influenced me most at Harvard. I had been exposed to some of these ideas in the past, but they were not that clear. Louis Kahn's approach especially influenced me. He didn't just think of architecture from the viewpoint of society. Instead, he studied how a building becomes a building, that is, how a structure—something with life—is created. I found this orientation very useful.
While my education in the United States certainly influenced my early products, after I returned to my country I felt that architecture needed to be an expression of culture. What I had learned in foreign countries seemed at first to have universal application. But when you face your own society, unique cultural characteristics become evident in which you can't put what you have learned into practice. There are no absolute architectural truths. So if an architect is to be successful, he must perceive architecture in the larger framework of the whole society—only in this case can the goal of architecture be achieved.
My thoughts about architecture have changed a lot over the years, especially during the past 15 years when I undertook serious study and documentation of Chinese architecture.
FCR: What made you pursue this kind of study?
A: It's simple. I was educated in a foreign university, a very good one, by excellent professors. I thought what I had learned was what I should put into practice. But later on I found out that was very difficult if not impossible to achieve. A good example is the superstition of fengshui, or geomancy. When I am ready to build, all my analysis and the supporting theories based on functional rationale can be easily overthrown by a word from a geomancer. This was a very big cultural shock. But later on I gradually realized that although geomancy is irrational, it is still part of Chinese thought, so I have to do my best to understand it. This led me to become the first Western-educated architect to study geomancy. Now there are quite a few architects who have studied it, though perhaps not in the same depth. They may be able to determine whether a certain geomancy is good or bad. But I don't do that, because I don't believe in it at all. However, I tell myself since it is an important part of Chinese thought and custom, and because no one disbelieves it, I have got to see it as an important affair, especially because it was important for traditional Chinese architecture. In recent years I have gradually become aware of the Chinese views of architecture and how it is integrated with culture. Formation of my own opinions on these topics has therefore come from a slow process of acquiring traditional Chinese wisdom, and from trying to interpret and explain it.