In the rift between the fading and increasingly irrelevant past and the fast-paced and globalized present, what we have termed architectural species are becoming more and more subjected to the demands of fast erection rate and cheap construction cost. This creates a dichotomy between the old traditional way of building and the new way of building. Namely, as our world has become an ever denser concrete (or steel) jungle, the traditional buildings of the past have gradually disappeared, taking with them authentic representations of the past but also possibly the knowledge of ancient craftsmanship and the honor and integrity of building in a way that respects the material, nature, site, and devotion to making something that is honest and well-made. The rift of the historical-architectural-tectonic fabric is especially evident in Japan, where traditional building is not only formal, it is also substantial. That is, it's not so much that the building has to look traditional on the outside as much as it has to be genuine material and craft to its core. To that end, even though the traditional Tori (such as the Meiji Shrine Tori above) is made simply of wood, the simplicity and 100% honest nature (100%wood) is testament to the integrity of the traditional and thus, their worth of preservation. (Assuming that our motivations of preservation is mainly to offer a glimpse into the past and maybe learn from them).
and then, we get this. A steel tori. In every way, this Tori, which guards a shrine right on the Omote-Sando, is the antithesis to the old traditional ideal. The material is inauthentic, it is hollow (not 100% wood but a steel tube), it's simply welded (devoid of the knowledge of wood craft), and of course in it's simplicity negates the subtle grace that renders beauty for traditional Japanese architecture. It is just an orthogonal construction of painted steel tubes roughly organized to formally sort-of resemble a tori. It does the job, but it is devoid of meaning and stands for nothing of the past and everything of the way construction is built today, fast, cheap, and to the point. If preservation is to preserve a certain sense of spirit, then this example is just an example of the unfortunate disintegration of nostalgic values. But if we zoom into the future and look past, perhaps in a world where we no longer build things for these reasons, would we want to preserve this Tori as a reminder of our contemporary globalized culture?
In the rift between the fading and increasingly irrelevant past and the fast-paced and globalized present, what we have termed architectural species are becoming more and more subjected to the demands of fast erection rate and cheap construction cost. This creates a dichotomy between the old traditional way of building and the new way of building. Namely, as our world has become an ever denser concrete (or steel) jungle, the traditional buildings of the past have gradually disappeared, taking with them authentic representations of the past but also possibly the knowledge of ancient craftsmanship and the honor and integrity of building in a way that respects the material, nature, site, and devotion to making something that is honest and well-made. The rift of the historical-architectural-tectonic fabric is especially evident in Japan, where traditional building is not only formal, it is also substantial. That is, it's not so much that the building has to look traditional on the outside as much as it has to be genuine material and craft to its core. To that end, even though the traditional Tori (such as the Meiji Shrine Tori above) is made simply of wood, the simplicity and 100% honest nature (100%wood) is testament to the integrity of the traditional and thus, their worth of preservation. (Assuming that our motivations of preservation is mainly to offer a glimpse into the past and maybe learn from them).
and then, we get this. A steel tori. In every way, this Tori, which guards a shrine right on the Omote-Sando, is the antithesis to the old traditional ideal. The material is inauthentic, it is hollow (not 100% wood but a steel tube), it's simply welded (devoid of the knowledge of wood craft), and of course in it's simplicity negates the subtle grace that renders beauty for traditional Japanese architecture. It is just an orthogonal construction of painted steel tubes roughly organized to formally sort-of resemble a tori. It does the job, but it is devoid of meaning and stands for nothing of the past and everything of the way construction is built today, fast, cheap, and to the point. If preservation is to preserve a certain sense of spirit, then this example is just an example of the unfortunate disintegration of nostalgic values. But if we zoom into the future and look past, perhaps in a world where we no longer build things for these reasons, would we want to preserve this Tori as a reminder of our contemporary globalized culture?
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