Tadao Ando: Seishun (Youth)

At the newly inaugurated urban cultural park VS. in Osaka, a powerful exhibition is underway—celebrating the life and vision of one of Japan’s most revered architects, Tadao Ando. The year is 2025, and at 83, Ando continues to push the boundaries. But what is the true spirit or intention behind this exhibition? And how does it reflect his deep connection with America?

By Kyoko Sato, June 1, 2025

An Architect Who Lives Through the Soul

Tadao Ando was born on September 13, 1941. Now 83, he has lived a life defined by not only architecture but also profound personal battles. Since 2009, Ando has undergone multiple major surgeries due to cancer—first removing his gallbladder, bile duct, and duodenum at age 68, and, later, his pancreas and spleen. In total, five of his organs are gone.

And yet, his spirit shows no sign of retreat. Even as his physical body has diminished, Ando has continued to create architectural masterpieces around the world. Perhaps, as the body gives way, the soul must grow larger to compensate. That might explain why he embraced the word, “Seishun”—Youth, as a word or concept that defines his identity.

To give this idea its shape and form, he chose a striking icon: the green apple. Simple yet rich with symbolism, the apple represents vitality, curiosity, and the endless pursuit of the new—the values that have guided Ando’s life and work.

The title of this exhibition, Seishun—Youth, traces its origin to a poem by Samuel Ullman (1840–1924), a Jewish-American businessman and poet. His poem, “Youth,” became widely known in the postwar Japan after General Douglas MacArthur posted it in his GHQ office in Tokyo. The lines inspired a nation rebuilding from the ashes of war, instilling courage and hope, and it is often cited as a quiet driving force behind Japan’s rapid economic growth.

Ullman passed away at the age of 83—the  same age Ando is today. The timing of this exhibition, then, carries a poignant resonance, as if Ando is subtly acknowledging a spiritual kinship across time and culture.

The Japanese translation of Ullman’s poem was undertaken by Osamu Uno (1917-2000), then President of Toyobo Co., Ltd. and later Chairman of the Kansai Economic Federation. It’s no coincidence that Uno, whose leadership stood at the heart of Japan’s postwar textile industry—an industry which was foundational to Japan’s recovery—felt compelled to translate a poem that had once inspired MacArthur himself. Uno recognized in Ullman’s words a universal message of endurance and aspiration, the sentiments that mirrored Japan’s trajectory.

Today, Tadao Ando adopts those same words not only as the title of his exhibition but also a declaration. By doing so, he reaffirms that Youth is not bound by age, geography, or race. It is a shared spirit—a wisdom, even—that transcends time and space. In invoking Ullman’s poem, Ando builds yet another bridge— between the East and the West, the body and the soul, the past and the future.

Architecture Born from the Memory of Boyhood

Tadao Ando, who has lived his entire life embodying the spirit of Seishun—Youth, now dedicates his strength and vision to the future. One of the central themes of this exhibition, “Children’s Book Forest” (“Kodomo Hon no Mori”), is expressed in the section, “Tadao Ando: In the Present.” It is a project devoted to the next generation and draws inspiration from Andrew Carnegie (1835–1919), the American steel magnate who, after amassing great wealth, turned to philanthropy and funded libraries and universities across the United States.

While the seed of this idea may have come from Carnegie, it is Ando’s own intimate and deeply personal experiences that truly propel this project forward. Why “children,” and why “books?” Ando explains:
“For the growth of the human spirit, nothing is more nourishing than books. This conviction is especially strong for someone like me, who regrets having grown up without knowing the world of books.”

Ando was born and raised in a culturally deprived neighborhood in postwar Osaka. His family lacked the financial means for higher education, and so he was unable to attend university. He became an architect through relentless self-education, driven by pure will and curiosity.

The exhibition catalogue recounts a pivotal episode from his youth, illustrating how formative experiences shape the trajectory of life:
“When I was 14, our one-story home was renovated into a two-story building. For just over a month, I would rush home from school every day to watch the process unfold. A young local carpenter handled the entire job alone. I would sit and silently watch his every move. When the roof was taken off, a hole opened up to the sky. The familiar house suddenly became something utterly new, and I was completely captivated by that transformation. The image of that carpenter—focused, silent, and immersed in his craft from morning until night—left a powerful impression on me. In my twenties, I wandered through various paths, but ultimately chose architecture. I believe the origin of that decision lies in this memory from my boyhood.”

Speaking as the writer, I recollect spending my twenties in Tokyo as both a student and a young professional. During that time, I often visited Ando’s La Collezione (completed in 1989) in Aoyama, Tokyo. I would wander through the building repeatedly, internally dubbing it a “dramatic space.” Why dramatic? Because with each step, the space would shift unexpectedly—the interplay of light and volume always surprised and stirred me. I had never encountered architecture that moved me in quite the same way.

Looking back, I now realize: this emotional response was not incidental. It was the echo of a boy’s awe at seeing his home transformed—a memory that Ando has returned to again and again, embedding that sense of wonder into the very fabric of his architecture.

The Core of Creation as Seen in “Row House in Sumiyoshi”

Tadao Ando first garnered international acclaim with his Row House in Sumiyoshi (1976), completed when he was 35 years old. Just three years later, in 1979, he was awarded the prestigious Prize of the Architectural Institute of Japan. This narrow residential house, located on an extremely limited urban housing—just 3.45 meters (11.31 feet) wide and 14.25 meters (46.75 feet) deep—was a bold statement that challenged architectural conventions.

At the heart of this tiny structure, Ando inserted an open-air corridor without a roof. When it rains, the residents are compelled to open an umbrella and pass through the elements of nature. It was a radical idea that defied the norms of comfort and common sense, yet it was executed with a clarity and purpose that revealed a deeper, almost philosophical intent.

Though hailed as unprecedented, the concept of the Row House in Sumiyoshi stems from a fundamental principle Ando holds dear:
“I always try to think not bound by precedent or convention, but to return to the origin—back to the essential.”
He continues, “In expanding my imagination freely in this way, I’m not merely trying to create new architecture, but rather working within a framework that questions the very act of making—by ‘creating through preserving,’ or by allowing things to remain untouched, using what already exists and nurturing it.”
The “existing things” he refers to may be an old building, the surrounding nature, or the Earth itself. This thinking forms the foundation of what has become known as Ando’s environmentally integrated architecture.

A striking example of this concept is the home he built for the renowned designer Hiroko Koshino (b.1937), located atop the hills of Ashiya, Hyogo. Riding the wave of Japan’s postwar economic miracle, Koshino commissioned Ando to design her vast residence housed in nature (Koshino House, 1981,1984). When I visited Koshino in Ashiya as the curator for her solo exhibition in New York, she reflected:
“At the moment I was stepping into my career as a designer, I felt an irresistible need to live on a mountaintop, surrounded by nature and the changing seasons. Ando’s architecture was the only thing that could make that possible—there was no other choice.”

Her eldest daughter, Yukako Koshino, now the president of the company, remembers the hardships:
“In winter, my hands were so numb that I couldn’t even write. It was unbearably cold.”

Yet the stark, monumental concrete structure, fully integrated into the mountainside, remains one of Ando’s early masterpieces. Even today, it stands as a strong icon, embodying his vision of architecture that breathes in rhythms with the environment. 

Dialogue with the Human Spirit Through Architecture

When we step back and consider both Tadao Ando’s spoken philosophy and the buildings that he has created, a deeper truth emerges: his work is, at its core, a dialogue with the long, pulsing journey of humanity. His architecture is not only an expression of form but also a conscious engagement with history—an acknowledgment of what came before and a contribution to what lies ahead.

Ando’s own life is a living reflection of this philosophy. He did not leave behind the emotional impact of his childhood experiences but carried it with reverence. It was nurtured within him and quietly embedded into even the grandest of his creations. His method is not one of pure invention, but of resonance: he accepts what already exists—be it a landscape, a structure, or a memory—and builds upon it with care. His architecture does not impose: rather, it listens, responds, and evolves.

In this way, his process mirrors the human story itself. Our civilizations, too, have been built by receiving what came before and adding onto it. Ando does this not as an architect alone but as a human being fully attuned to the modesty required of those who participate in history. His practice becomes an offering—a deeply personal yet universally resonant gesture that links the past to the future.

Ando reminds us that the very act of building can be a sacred one, and that our presence in this world is a part of a greater continuum. It is this awareness, this quiet humility, that gives his work its enduring power.

Among the many layers of Ando’s work, there is a profound devotion to the inner world—the world of the spirit. His churches in particular are manifestations of this, where light, nature, and silence are the central materials. The Church of the Light (1989, Osaka) and The Church on the Water (1988, Hokkaido) are both meditative spaces where time appears to pause. At the Water Temple (Mizumido) of Honpuku-ji (1991, Awaji Island), visitors descend through a circular lotus pond into a sacred stillness—a place that feels suspended between another world and reality.

In this exhibition, Ando’s iconic Church on the Water has been reconstructed at full scale. A luminous cross rises between the forest and the water, fusing the natural and the manmade in an act of transcendent harmony. It is not merely a structure but an experience—one that stirs something ineffable in the hearts of those who witness it.

This is the world Ando offers— one where architecture becomes a vessel for memory, emotion, and eternal human longing.

The Origins of a Dream Entrusted to the Earth

Tadao Ando has never confined his vision to Japan alone—his eyes have always been set on the world. In 2001, following the devastating attacks of September 11, he submitted a design proposal for the redevelopment of the World Trade Center site in Manhattan, New York. Titled the Ground Zero Project, his concept was conceived as a tomb—a place of mourning and remembrance for the lives lost. To the Japanese viewer, the spherical form might evoke the image of an ancient kofun, a burial mound built for the noble rulers.

From this sphere, only 20 meters (65.6 feet) would emerge above the ground, yet it would hold a profound symbolic weight: it was an homage to the Earth itself. The size was not arbitrary—Ando derived its dimensions based on the Earth’s equatorial radius, transforming the structure into a scaled representation of the planet we all share. Against the backdrop of terror, destruction, and cycles of vengeance, Ando’s message was one of coexistence. We, the inhabitants of this fragile Earth, must learn to live together if we are to survive.

For those familiar with Ando’s work, this subterranean sphere immediately recalls one of his most visionary and ambitious early projects: the Nakanoshima Project II (Urban Egg + Stratified Space), a conceptual plan developed in 1988 to renovate Osaka’s historic Nakanoshima Public Hall, originally built in 1918. The proposal imagined burying a vast cultural complex—housing a museum, library, and art spaces—beneath the ground. At its heart, an egg-shaped void symbolized the genesis of creativity and the cyclical rebirth of culture. It was a daring, poetic vision of regeneration through silence and depth.

At the time, Ando was 47 years old. This project, never realized, remains the spiritual origin of many of his later accomplishments. The exhibition features a monumental 10-meter drawing of the proposal—painstakingly rendered by a team of six over six grueling months. Ando himself has admitted it was so demanding he could never repeat such a feat again.

Though the Nakanoshima plan was not brought to life, its conceptual seed continued to grow… and eventually flourished. The vision matured, culminating in two of Ando’s most acclaimed architectural works: the Chichu Art Museum (2004), built into the earth on Naoshima Island in collaboration with Soichiro Fukutake (b.1945); and the transformation of the 19th-century Parisian landmark, Bourse de Commerce, into a contemporary art museum housing the Pinault Collection (2021).

In both cases, the act of building into the land or around memory becomes a means of transformation—not just of the space, but of perception. By going underground, Ando urges us to look inward. And by rooting his architecture in history, nature, and silence, he enables us to experience the timeless.

Ando’s Footprint in the U.S.

In New York City, traces of Ando’s architectural philosophy can be seen in several key projects. Among them is 152 Elizabeth Street in Nolita, completed in 2015—a serene, minimalist condominium infused with light and stillness. It is a rare presence in the city’s often chaotic rhythm and it was his first residential building in Manhattan. The design reflected his signature elements: the tactile concrete, glass that breathes, and a reverence for light as a sculptural material. The building now houses Issey Miyake’s Pleats Please, reflecting the elegance of refined Japanese modernism.

In 2019, Ando also completed a penthouse redesign at 150 East 72nd Street, created for the gallerist Kazuhito Yoshii. This project, nestled within Manhattan’s classic Upper East Side, blends Ando’s Japanese sensibility with the refined lines of modern luxury—an oasis of contemplative space above the city bustle.

New Yorkers may also remember the striking interiors of Morimoto, the high-profile restaurant by the celebrity chef Masaharu Morimoto, which operated from 2006 to 2020. The sleek, atmospheric interior—featuring Ando’s signature exposed concrete, filtered lighting, and disciplined spatial flow—left an indelible impression on the city’s culinary and design scene.

A notable institution in the States is the Clark Art Institute, located in Williamstown, Massachusetts. Renowned for its outstanding collection of 19th-century Impressionist paintings, the museum has long attracted art lovers from around the world. Founded in 1955 by Sterling and Francine Clark, the museum holds works by artists such as Claude Monet, Edgar Degas, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, and Mary Cassatt.

A major expansion of the Clark Art Institute was completed in 2014, designed by Ando. His architectural vision not only preserved the museum’s harmonious relationship with the surrounding rolling hills and woodlands of the Berkshires but also reimagined the site with a stunning new landscape. Ando’s work integrated glass, stone, and water elements to create a contemplative atmosphere that enhanced the visitor’s experience of both art and nature. The new addition included the Clark Center, a sleek, minimalist structure that houses galleries, a café, and educational spaces, blending seamlessly into the natural setting.

The Exhibition “Tadao Ando: Youth” and His Lifelong Mission

Currently on view in Osaka, Tadao Ando｜Youth is an exhibition that transcends biography or architectural showcase. Open from March 20 to July 21, 2025, at Grand Green Osaka in Umeki Park, North Park [VS.], this venue itself carries symbolic weight. VS., a new urban park inaugurated in 2024, embodies the very spirit of public space and renewal that Ando has long championed.

Of the exhibition, Ando remarked: “This is not merely a presentation of my work. It is my way of giving back to the society that shaped me, that raised me as an architect.” Through models, drawings, photographs, and full-scale installations—such as the life-sized replica of Church on the Water—visitors are invited to retrace the youthful energy and ideals that have propelled Ando for over half a century.

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Tadao Ando

Born in Osaka in 1941, Tadao Ando is a self-taught architect who established Tadao Ando Architect & Associates in 1969. His work is distinguished by its geometric rigor, tension-filled forms rendered in exposed concrete, and profound integration of natural elements to create spiritually resonant spaces.

Among his most acclaimed works are Church of the Light, Awaji Yumebutai, Pulitzer Arts Foundation, Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, Chichu Art Museum, Punta della Dogana, Shanghai Poly Grand Theatre, and Bourse de Commerce in Paris.

In 1979, Tadao Ando received the Architectural Institute of Japan Prize for his Row House in Sumiyoshi. He was awarded the Japan Art Academy Prize in 1993 and the prestigious Pritzker Architecture Prize in 1995. His international honors include the American Institute of Architects (AIA) Gold Medal in 2002, the Union Internationale des Architectes (UIA) Gold Medal in 2005, the Order of Culture from the Japanese government in 2010, the Commandeur of the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres from France in 2013, the Grande Ufficiale of the Order of the Star of Italy in 2015, and the Commandeur of the French Legion of Honour in 2021. He has held visiting professorships at Yale, Columbia, and Harvard Universities. From 1997, he served as a professor at the University of Tokyo and is now Professor Emeritus.

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YOUTH (1918) by Samuel Ullman

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity of the appetite, for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of sixty more than a boy of twenty. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

Whether sixty or sixteen, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonder, the unfailing, child-like appetite of what’s next, and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage and power from men and from the infinite, so long are you young.

When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and ice of pessimism, then you are grown old, even at twenty, but as long as your aerials are up, to catch the waves of optimism, there is hope you may die young at eighty.

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