When people come to me and ask me for autograph, I rather enjoy that. “May I have your autograph?” The building is still here. They still like it. “Congratulations! It was beautiful! You’ve given something beautiful to all of us. Thank you.” I didn’t give it. Mr. Mellon gave it. “Wonderful, sir. Thank you.” I do, of course, like people to enjoy my work. There’s no question about it. The durability of the idea, the relevance, is more important to me. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in instant fame.
That’s nice to have it too, but to have something that lasts, that means you’ve really got hold of the essence of things. And that’s the only thing that can last, really the essence. Otherwise it’s transitory, it’s fashion.
To me, architecture is something you do to serve a certain function. It’s for people. You have to be something that somehow relates to life itself, of that particular time and place. I’m not an architect who has, some people say, a body of theories. I don’t have that. I don’t think that’s the way my architecture should be looked at. But if you are the true to yourself, you have a signature – and the signature will come out.
I like to make a comparison with the music of Bach, constant variations of a simple theme. You have to learn to eliminate and come to the heart of the problem. You have to start from a very complex program, to reduce it to the simplest and having found the simple solution, the heart of the matter, let’s say, then you have to make it work.
Returning to the place of his most talked about success, another architect might pause to admire his triumph. When I. M. Pei comes back to Paris and enters the glass pyramid that years earlier capped his renovation of the Louvre, he has another thought in mind did his idea work? Does it live? Has it stood the test of time?
Pei was in his 60s and at the pinnacle of his career when, in 1983, the French government first invited him to Paris. Would he, they asked, undertake the mammoth project of modernizing the sprawling, sacred giant? His client would be the glory of France, a privilege the French usually reserved for themselves.
I did not accept the honor immediately for a very good reason. I wanted to be sure that I am the right person to do the work. And I was not sure. “But I was sure.” You was sure, but I was not sure. That’s how it began.
If it was the most ambitious undertaking of Pei’s career, it also called on every facet of it – design, unban planning, engineering, and closing the distance between the past and the spirit of modern times. He walked the grounds of the endless, antiquated corridors of the world’s largest museum. Then, as always, he searched for the essence of the problem.
“Under the first beginning, I was looking from my window and I saw you alone.” Alone? “Yes, walking to see all the plan, all the crossroads, all that. You would like that.” We came to the conclusion that the center of gravity, let’s call it, is right where the pyramid is today. At that time, that place is nothing. Some ugly-looking trees. It’s a parking lot. Wouldn’t it be nice if we can make the entrance there, and there is where the reception is? But how can you do it? Nobody would accept putting a structure right in that place. What should it be? Should it be sort of a 19th-century pastiche, which is what the wings are, architecturally speaking, I dismissed that. And yet, if I don’t build something there, then the only way you can get to that center of gravity is by some kind of a subterranean approach, like a subway. And that is not acceptable. After all, Louvre is Louvre.
Pei’s pyramid ignited a firestorm of national proportion. Battle lines were drawn between those for it and those dead set against it.
I think the criticisms that were leveled at me and at the project in the beginning of 1984, it was of such force that I alone couldn’t have dealt with it.
The president of France staked his prestige on the man he hired. Francois Mitterrand saw the pyramid as the symbol and center of the grand plan that would restore the Louvre to glory, and guarantee his place in French history. But there was a catch – one wing was not open to the public. It housed the government offices of the ministry of finance, and they declined the invitation to leave.
“It was very difficult to ask money to somebody who would ask, at the same time, to leave.” To put it another way, this is the Ministry of Finance. We ask them for money. At the same time, we say, “Move out. Move out.” very difficult. And it was difficult. For tow years, I tell you, it was difficult. “When we are standing right now is where the ministers cars were parked. It was extraordinary. The ground was at that height, and this was an entirely private place, completely secure, and the public never came through. And over there, where the public now walks through with no ticket, just walks through on the sidewalk, through the building to go into the court, was guarded by a gendarme. I remember an interview on television where you were interviewed at that time. Actually, I think it’s the first and last time you’ve ever done politics on television. And you said, The Louvre has got to live. And if you cut off its arm, it won’t be able to walk. ”
I think that’s the only answer I have is that we have tried everything in our own minds and we discarded them all. The simpler the solution, the more powerful it is. And the pyramid turned out to be the simplest of all solutions that we could come up with.
The battle for the hearts of Paris had heen won. The ministry left. Phase two could go forward. The three wings of the ancient palace could now be reunited, joined through the pyramid’s underground courtyard. In march of 1988, president Francois Mitterrand awarded I.M. Pei the “Legion d’honneur”, France’s most prestigious award, inside the finished pyramid. Pei’s structure had become the symbol of not only the president’s political resurrection, but the honor of the French Republic.
One has to persist and not give up principle. But there are many ways of persisting, many way of trying to convince a client to do certain things. There is a polite way. There is impolite way. But that doesn’t mean I’m less insistent or less demanding. Not at all. I’m probably as demanding as any creative person. But you have to identify the important things and then press for it, not give up.
New York city has been home and headquarters to I.M. Pei for the length of his uncommonly long and successful career. He is considered a gentleman in a profession of high stakes and enormous costs, where sparring doctrines heatedly compete to speak for the times. Pei has weathered changes in taste by following an independent course, choosing continual refinement over novelty for novelty’s sake. His buildings wear their modernity with grace. His long climb to virtuosity has been made with the steady gaze that always looked out from his round, black-rimmed glasses.
I prefer not to use labels. To me it’s just architecture. There’s no such thing as modern architecture, postmodern, deconstructivist. You can use all the “ism” you want, I don’t believe in any of them. They come and they go. And the one that really survived, lasting, is architecture. Architecture of that time.
The city of his birth is 2,500 years old. Known as the Venice of the Orient, Suzhou is famous for its waterways, for its grand, old family homes set in intricate ornamental gardens. Ieoh Ming Pei was born there in 1917, and spent his boyhood playing in this harmonious setting of art and nature.
Our family garden is famous for its rocks. These rocks are very strange looking shapes. They are full of holes and twists and turns and surprises. These are part man, part nature. And a rock gardener is an artist. He’s a lot like Henry Moore. He’s a sculptor. He looks at a piece of rock. Not much yet. But he would see possibilities in that rock. So, therefore, he will chisel the rock to enlarge the hole or to make a new hole in the rock, and to shape it a bit, not finish, but just shape it, like the way, as I say, Henry Moore makes the sculpture. And then after that, he would place that rock in the water, on a beach, where the water will come with tide, and then after 10 or 20 years that rock becomes a finished object because all the rough edges would have been smoothed by water. And then they say, “Well, here we are. This is a piece of rock that I can now put in the garden. ” Frequently, the father rock farmer would do this so that his son will harvest it. And this is an interesting thing that you don’t find any part of the world, except in that part of china. I can think of one effect on me, not just my work, the way I am, and that is the importance of time. There’s no instant gratification in creating a work of art. I just don’t find that that is possible. So a work of art, architecture, whatever it is, I think needs time to finally make a judgement as to whether it’s right or not. And I think the time factor is very important in my work. I like to think so.
Pei’s family, whose roots date back 600 years, came from the high ranks of traditional society. His mother, Lien Kwun, died after a long illness, and Pei lived for a time with his grandfather.
My grandfather was a very well-known calligrapher and my mother was very accomplished in calligraphy, poetry, and music. So, therefore, that side of the family is probably more art-oriented than my father’s side of the family. But some of that must have rubbed off at some point in time, I think so.
His father, Tisuyee Pei, was the first banker in his family, a forward-looking man of business. After managing the bank of china in Canton and Hong Kong, in 1927 he was sent to shanghai, the bustling financial center of a rapidly modernizing China. Pei moved with his father to shanghai and studied at St. John’s middle school.
He was very interested in my future. “What do you want to do in life?” Part Hotel, at that time, was coming up – 23 stories. Now, 23 stories in 1934-35 in Shanghai is unbelievable. It’s like building a 100-story building in New York. So, as a young man I was taken to it, and I said, “My gosh, that’s fascinating business to be able to build a building of that height.” So I said, “Maybe architecture.” so, that was the beginning.
With every intention of returning to China, Pei left in 1935 to study architecture at the University of Pennsylvania. But he was quickly discouraged by what he saw as the school’s emphasis on the antiquated beaux-arts method of teaching and left before classes began. Unsure of his talent for drawing, Pei enrolled at M.I.T. to study architectural engineering, a discipline that appealed to his analytic side. The dean suggested he reconsider.
He was the one that told me after one year at M.I.T., “Why don’t you take up architecture instead?” I said, “Dean, I don’t draw very well.” “That’s nonsense, ” he said. “I don’t know of any Chinese that can’t draw.” And, of course, this is totally untrue, but it did give me enough courage to say, “Perhaps, I should try.” And I did. From that point on , I didn’t turn back.
Half a world away, a radical new school of thought in Europe was propelling architecture into the future. They rejected the heavy ornateness of the past in favor of clean, simple lines. What 20th-century technology could make possible, design translated into architecture. Intended not for the privileged few, but for the many. Form followed function. The founder of the Bauhaus Movement was Walter Gropius. An exile from Nazi Europe, he was now head of Harvard’s graduate school of design, where Pei was continuing his studies. Gropius predicted that the now Bauhaus Movement would lead to an international style.
And that you’ll find buildings designed in one country not very different from the other, you’ll find buildings designed in one country not very different from the others. I wasn’t about to take that. That was something that I wasn’t about to take that. That was something that I find a little difficult to accept because I came from a very different place, you see, at that time. And I said, “Well, I’m not so sure.”
There were other provocative ideas in the air. The most penetrating and influential came from the visionary architect, Le Corbusier. And when Le Corbusier’s work became known with his three volumes that I bought – save up a lot of money to buy those three volumes – was a great influence on me. From Le Corbusier I learned freedom, and also the plasticity of forms. He was dealing with forms that are not like what I was used to studying under the beaux-arts system. The reason Le Corbusier was an important architect, he related his work with his time in the artistic ferment of his time. Le Corbusier caught that very early on, and he was part of it, part of that ferment and therefore, his work is very closely related to his time. And, therefore, his work become enriched by his association with sculpture and painting of his time. And I find that important lesson. And if you don’t, if you’re only thinking of architecture, and allow yourself not to be part of a larger movement of thought, I think you lose a lot.
Visiting professors to Harvard included the Finnish architect Alvar Aalto.
We would go out at night after critique and have drinks and have dinner. What impressed me the most is his ability to drink schnapps. He could down one after another with no food in his stomach before. He had tremendous capacity for a alcohol, unbelievable. I didn’t learn very much from him about drinking, but I learned something about architecture. I learned about the importance of serving individuals, people you designed for. “What does he do if he were to enter this building?” And “Why do you design this way?” Gropius brought along another architect, professor Breuer, and it was with Breuer that I developed a very close friendship, something that lasted long, long time. Lasted until he died. The importance of making spaces and also the concern for form. To him the sun is the most important thing to an architect. And he was very much a sun worshipper. He feels that the sun is what makes architecture come alive.
The last leg of his education was a long-awaited trip he and his wife made to Europe in 1951. This would be their first trip to Europe. They had met as students in Boston 10 years earlier and were married in 1942, shortly after Eileen’s graduation from Wellesley.
It was a very important trip for me. “We stayed in the worst places and ate in the best places.” The only modern building I think we saw – Le Corbusier’s “Villa Savoy.” That’s the only modern building. The rest of the time was always cathedrals and chateaux. I think the French cathedrals at that particular time impressed us more because of the tremendous height that they were able to build with stone. The technology of using stone. They were able to build these huge spaces is remarkable. That always excites me, anything that pushes to the limit.
Architecture and structure are not separate disciplines. They are one, and have to be. That’s why I think that if an architect is not sufficiently aware of the forces of structure. I don’t think he can really design well. That’s my belief. We came up with this pyramid because of its shape. It’s not like this. That will conceal a lot more than this. At the same time, it’s also a shape that is structurally very stable. Hence, we can make it very transparent, very light. Then the more transparent it is, the more the palace of the Louvre retain its importance.
Pei’s design for the Louvre Pyramid rested on his ability to make it transparent. And that rested on a groundbreaking use of tension cables. In order to use the thinnest cables available, Pei relied on the finely crafted technology of the America’s cup sailing boats.
Yes, I did compare the art of architecture to sort of like a shoemaker, making a pair of shoes, handmade. It’s a little bit of that handicraft quality that still exists in architecture. All these things, the dimension of it, the threading, and the shape, all these are not just something you can buy from a five-and-ten-cent store, from a hardware store. You can’t. They have to be engineered, drawn, and made.
His sure grasp of structure frees Pei to build with the geometric shapes he is drawn to.
I belong to those architects that believe that geometry is the driving force for design. But that doesn’t mean that geometry consists only of the cone, the sphere, the cube, as Cezanne said in paintings. It has to one has to make variation, combinations out of geometry. We can do that. That’s not all. There are many other elements that come into play to create the form. Space, which is what architecture really is. You have to have light. Now, light is terribly important. What are shapes if there are no light? The light of the sun is magical because it changes so much. Geometry is the beginning for the architect, for me anyway, a planning, systemic thing that ties everything together. But beyond that, then you have texture, you have color, you have form, you have light, you have space. So, it takes many things to make geometry into a work of architecture.
The most dramatic example of how Pei’s geometry derives from his understanding of structural principles can be seen in the bank of China tower in Hong Kong. In 1926, the first manager of the bank had been his father. Today, in the city of his childhood, his building rises from the dense skyline, commanding an unobstructed view of the harbor. On its completion, Pei’s tower was the tallest building in Asia.
The Hong Kong that I knew when I was a little boy, I was here when I was 3 years old, so it’s a different Hong Kong. In fact, the one thing I miss is the smell of coffee beans. When I was here 60, 70 years ago, I used to enjoy walking down the hill to my school and smell that coffee bean. I’ve been addicted ever since.
Building skyscrapers had never really interested Pei. There seemed to be nothing new to add to what the pioneers of modernism had already done.
Ever since the early days in Chicago, we have not really made much progress in the designing of tall buildings. We have Empire State Building. We have the John Hancock in Chicago. But none of them somehow seem to make a statement saying that “We’re tall because…” And ultimately, I think what really persuaded me to accept this commission and to do a tall building was to see if I could find a raison de’etre for its design. And the way to approach it really is through structure, because what makes a tall building unique is not its function. But what makes it unique is really that it has to stand there and resist earthquakes, resist wind. And the wind in Hong Kong is tremendous. It’s about more than twice as much as New York. So, therefore, these are challenges. And out of this challenge to design a tall building to resist earthquakes and winds, maybe a solution will come that will give it a character. The best way to structure this building is to put all the loads on the four corners of the building because that way the building can be very stable.
Pei achieved an engineering breakthrough. The highest column of the tower distributes the weight of the building out to its four corners. Each time this column meets an intersection point, the loads it carries are distributed by the diagonals to the corner columns. By directing the loads outward to the exterior of the building, this structural system allowed column-free interior spaces and saved money by using much less structural steel. This was not the usual case of form following function. Here form followed structure and became Pei’s geometry.
We just divided that square, with the base of this building square, into four 45-degree quadrants, so that each quadrant would have a into four 45-degree quadrants, so that each quadrant would have a major column to take the load off what goes on top. And that division creates very, very sharp corners. I like that because it takes away from the bluntness of a high building. The building changes as you drive. It’s not frontal.
More than a singular work of architecture, this headquarters would be a symbol to the world of mainland China’s permanent presence in the international banking community. In keeping with Chinese custom, the bank asked Pei’s father for permission to approach his son. With his father’s blessing and to honor his father’s history with the bank, Pei accepted the commission.
Unfortunately, my father died a few years later, and he never had an opportunity to see even the photograph of the model that I made for the bank. So that was something I very, very much regret.
Tsuyee Pei, who had once hoped his son would share in building China’s future, now saw his country torn apart. In the late 1940s, the armies of communist revolution swept across china and changed the country forever. The few years that followed were very difficult years. I couldn’t go back because, at that time, Mao Tse-tung was already making great progress against Chiang Kai-chek, and the country was in civil war. My father left and, therefore, we lost connection with the country. So, therefore, those events made it impossible for me, really, to think positively in terms of working in China again. So, in 1954, I decided to become a citizen. It was a difficult decision because, you know, you have to give up one citizenship in order to acquire another one. That’s the only honest thing to do. But it was difficult for me to give up China. It was really difficult. I became an American, and it was American family. In fact, my children, all of them, are as American as you are.
The building boom that surged in optimistic post-war New York enticed a young I.M. Pei out of a teaching position at Harvard and into the rough-and-tumble world of big city real estate and big-time moguls.
I receive a letter on day from Bill Zeckendorf. He, as you all know, is a big developer who has just pulled off this greatest coup, and that is to bring U.N. to New York. And I was intrigued with that. I never thought I would be working for a real estate development company.
Developers like William Zeckendorf favored massive urban renewal to modernize America’s cities. Out of the rubble, they said, could emerge spanking new buildings and bright cityscapes.
Zeckendorf loved big deals and big hats, burgundy wine, and beauty in design. He looked for young, fresh imagination to put on his payroll.
He has an ego, a tremendous ego. And he wanted to satisfy that ego. And to satisfy that ego, he has to do something different, something important.
Pei and Zeckendorf were as different as day and night, but together they could look out at the future with the same dream. Pei eventually headed a team of 75 designers and architects for Webb and Knapp, Zeckendorf’s natonal firm.
I learned a lot from him. I learned a lot about land values. I learned a lot about city as an organism, what makes it tick, the importance of circulation, transportation, which should be obvious to all architects and planners, but not the way he looked at it.
Building across the country, their most inventive projects were in low-cost housing, the focus of urban redevelopment.
First of all, you have to see how people live. I was absolutely horrified to walk in those slum quarters in southwest Washington in 1951, where there were people living in hovels within a stone’s throw of Washington, the capital. Outdoor plumbing. You wouldn’t believe it. And that struck a nerve. And since then, I became quite excited about the possibility of doing low-cost housing.
Standardized, good enough, low-cost housing was the accepted norm.
But those buildings were all built up out of brick, and with punch windows. I don’t know how many blocks they are, but they are all identical. So, when you walk into Peter Cooper village of Stuyvesant town, you’d get lost. You don’t know which building you’re supposed to go to. So, I said, “Well, yes, there are problems there that they haven’t really solved.” So, therefore, I had to fight for an alternative that is at that particular point in time possible, the art of the possible.
Pei discarded the tried and true. He convinced Zeckendorf to buy a concrete companywhich allowed him to build kip’s bay in New York city with poured-in-place concrete instead of brick. With the outside wall now supporting the structure, Pei could shape broad, open spaces inside, with wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows. To eliminate what Pei called “projectitis”, he designed tow large buildings instead of many, leaving the space in between for a park. I wanted a park in the middle. And the important thing for a park, of course, are trees. And I also wanted a piece of sculpture there, a Picasso sculpture. I thought that would be a centerpiece in the park. Since we have no money to spend, very little money left, so Zeckendorf said, “You can have your sculpture or you can have 40 trees. What do you choose?” I said, “40 trees.”
Working with Zeckendorf gave Pei practical experience with large-scale projects. But design that was always limited to specific urban requirements. After 12 years, the time had come to move on.
You can’t just leave 75 men and say, “Now you have to go look for work.” They worked with me for so long. I wanted to keep them. So, in order to keep the men, I have to find work outside of Webb and Knapp. It was my good fortune, in a way, that I was asked to be interviewed by Walter Robert to do a center for atmospheric research called NCAR.
Nestled in the foothills of the rocky mountain range of Colorado, the national center for atmospheric research was a total departure of Pei. It became the first of many projects that would lead to long-term personal relationships with his clients.
“Do you remember that first day that we walked up to the tip of the mesa? We came from below. Remember there wasn’t any road, and you and I walked. And I was worried that you were going to scratch your shoes?” Roberts, the scientist, and Pei, the artist, established an immediate bond.
When I saw the site the first time I said, “Wow! What a site.” And I became so excited by it. I’ve never done anything like that because all my work, up until then, has been in the middle of cities. And then all of a sudden confronted with this opportunity of doing something in an area as pristine and spectacular as that, I wanted that job right from the very beginning.
I’ve seen New York, with Empire State Building, but that kind of scale compared with the rocky mountains, is nothing. So then to all of a sudden be dropped into that particular site and then try to create something that somehow seemed to be at home on that site, it’s been difficult. Indians built on a similar kind of a background and site, and their buildings are always comfortable with the land itself. They use the same rock. Also, they choose rather simple forms. The mesa Verdes is a very good example. Huge slab of stones, big stone silos, one simple geometric volume, elemental forms. I learned there.
The aim of the center was to create a scientific sanctuary in the hush of a mountain retreat. It had to provide both places for private contemplation and pathways for encounters among the scientists.
All of a sudden I have to deal with not one client, not Walter Roberts alone, but maybe 25 scientists. Each scientist has his own ideas to what they what they…“what they need. What was that toy we had? We threw the marble down to see how many. It was a game and we put the marble in a hole, and this marble was supposed to travel down. It was like a maze. And we wanted to see how many places it could naturally just touch. So the marble became the different scientists and each one could have their one little place where they touched. That was their space. Just as an exercise.” I think architecture is really life, as I’ve always said time and time again. And what is better than to check with someone at home, who lived the life you know, as an individual, as a person. I find that that is only natural, that I have to come back and test ideas, and so on. I still do. I did from very beginning. I still do. I find that she’s my best critic.
Thirty years after Colorado, Pei again finds himself working with a remote mountain site. This time he is building a retreat for art near Kyoto, Japan. On his way to the museum, now under construction, Pei revisits the site of his first commission for Shinji Shumeikai, a Japanese religious order. Devoted to peace and the worship of beauty found in nature and in works of art, they had asked Pei to design a bell tower for the sacred grounds of there religious sanctuary. They called it “The Tower of Angels.” It form was derived from the bachi, which is used to play the strings of a traditional Japanese musical instrument.
I thought of something which I purchased in Kyoto in 1953. I was here in 1953 during the Korean war. And I bought a bachi, something that looks like this, in ivory. This is wood. The piece I have is made of ivory. I bought it in an antique store. You can see this shape of the bachi started as a square in the base and eventually flare, and then gets thinner and thinner until it reaches a very, very sharp point. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could somehow take from that and make it 60 meters high? It’s really the closest I have to work in the domain of sculpture. Architecture and sculpture are related, but function always stands in the way to prevent an architect to become a sculptor. But this come closest simply because its functional requirements are so simple. I have a great fondness for this piece. Everytime I come I like to see it.
They saw in Pei a true master of his craft and asked him to accept another commission, the design of their new museum.
Thank you very much. Thank you very much. My gosh. I won. I’m overcome.
They will entrust Pei with the precious possessions of their religion, an impressive collection of ancient art from the near and far East. Unusual, even in Pei’s wide-ranging galaxy of clients, is the revered matriarch of the sect, kaishusama, and her more westernized daughter, Hiroko Koyama.
From this side, the museum is very big. “I see.”
The site for the museum was chosen for its isolated mountain setting.
I remember when I was a little boy in China, I’d read a story about a Peach Blossom Valley. It tells the story about a clan, say about 1,500 years ago before now, that settle into a valley without people knowing it. And one day a fisherman rowed a boat along the stream and enter into that valley by surprise. And right there after he entered the valley, he saw a new world. People were there for…I don’t know, 300 years. They dressed the way they was 300 years ago, and they had the same customs, and the same dressed, and so on, and that is what they call Peach Blossom Valley. And the Japanese know that, just as well as the Chinese, so when I mentioned that story to Mrs. Koyama and Ms. Koyama, they said, “Ah, yes, wouldn’t that be wonderful that we can get to the museum in that same way.” The idea is that you should somehow feel that you just happened onto the museum. So a little bit like Shangri-la.
Pei designed the journey’s long route with a suspension bridge crossing a steep ravine, and tunnels cutting through mountain terrain.
My conception of what this museum should be, has influenced me in the choice of the site, because it contains oriental art. And much of it is religious art. If you understand Buddhism, you know that the retreat from the world is something that is quite common. Temples are usually built in areas that are totally inaccessible. You have to have great faith to get to it. Wow! It’s exciting.
Touch and go, you know. There were times when we almost couldn’t build here. This site is extremely difficult to get to, and we have all kinds of regulations that we have to follow because we are building on nature’s preserve. And we’re only allowed to expose a fraction of the building. What you see now, most of it, you will no longer see later on. It’s all going to be underground.
Yes, the bell tower. Can you hear the sound? It’s a surprise. And a happy one. “We tried to find some place where you like the best. So we tried to find a good view, the place which has a good view.” It’s a perfect site. It’s just that it gave Shumeikai so much trouble…because of all the rules and regulations which we had not anticipated. “We had a lot of trouble.” I have to apologize to you. “No, I have to apologize to you.”
Everything is continuous. There’s never an abrupt break in art. I believe in continuity, but also it can mean innovation. But it has to come from a source, and that’s source has to be deep. I think you can see a very conscious attempt on my part to make to silhouette of the building comfortable in this landscape. Now, if you look at all the wonderful Japanese temples. That have been built on a landscape not unlike this, you somehow find that there is a harmony between the land and the building, between the silhouette and the hills. So, therefore, architects of hundreds of years ago had that feeling. Of course, I didn’t want to imitate it. There’s no reason to build it out of tile roof and timber. But the idea of the silhouette still is valid. But how do you do it and not make this building look postmodern?
Pei wanted his steel-framed roofs to stay true to traditional shapes, but without the ornamentation. He hadn’t yet seen the roof mock-up that was made to his precise engineering specifications.
Well, successful. Successful.
Without light, it wouldn’t be a Pei building. And to get it, once again, Pei pushes technology to the limits.
I think we put it in the middle panel. Highest – those are the two. More than a year ago, right here, I saw that sample and I said, “That is not acceptable because it’s just too heavy, too coarse. It’s just not right.” So this is the result of that. If we use this as a structural component, which is what we call the node, the result will be something like this. And that is just too heavy. And it’s not, in my opinion, necessary. But the Japanese engineering code made, it mandatory that we do something like that. So, I talked to the engineers to see if we can find some way to lighten this structure, and we succeeded. Also, the pipe was very, very, very heavy at one time. Now the pipe is one inch less in diameter. That makes all the difference in the world. Those are the refinements that you don’t know in the beginning until you see it this way. But we somehow had a feeling that it just wasn’t right. So now I’m very satisfied. I saw it for the first time. I think it’s right.
This is my first project in Japan. I’m perhaps very, very, maybe overly so, sensitive about their concern, their cultures, and their traditions. But I wanted very much to respect them. The traditions are so different. The traditions are so different. I find that rather difficult for a outsider to come in, to impose something on them, say, “Look here, this is my style.” can’t do that. I don’t think they would accept it. But ultimately there has to be a hand that is visible in all those building built in diverse places.
The public figure Pei was to become emerged out of a turning point in American history. After the assassination of president John Kennedy in 1963, the country was in consolable. Many memorials were planned. The one of greatest importance to his family was his presidential library.
If you put yourself back to 1964, the name “Kennedy” just ricocheted all over the world. All over the world. China, all the way. Europe, Russia, everywhere. So, that was probably the most sought – after commission at that time.
The family invited the world’s architectural elite to the Kennedy compound in Hyannis port. It was an unprecedented gathering of the giants of modern architecture. Among them was Louis Kahn, the poet philosopher of architects, and Mies Van Der Rohe, reigning elder statesman and formative thinker of modernism. Pei greatly admired both men.
Everyone wanted that commission. And I was fortunate to be included among them. Why, I don’t know. But anyway I was. I had done very little then, outside of low-cost housing.
With everyone gathered in the family living room, each architect presented his ideas. Pei presented his, but because he was the least prominent, he thought it unlikely he’d be chosen. I remember now, I was in Italy with my family having a holiday. And there was no telephone in the house where we lived in. And I received a wire from my office and say, “Please be at such and such place to receive a telephone call.” And that such and such place just happened to be a espresso bar in Italy, he castel leoncello. And I went there at a certain appointed hour. And the telephone came. And I picked up the phone. It was Bill Walter, William Walter – Mrs. Kennedy’s adviser called me and said that, “You have be chosen.” But he just told me it was a question of personal chemistry, that she felt comfortable, and she wanted to be part of it, and she must have thought that I was the person that she could work with.
The site selected was on the grounds of Harvard, Kennedy’s alma mater. But despite its auspicious beginning, the project unraveled and never fulfilled its promise. The assassination of Robert Kennedy, the remarriage of Jacqueline Kennedy, and local conflict over the site took their toll.
And that’s why that project has not succeeded. Because we spent almost 10 years out of 14 searching for a site. It should have been one of my best and most important projects, and it wasn’t. And it cannot be.
But the awarding of the commission had lifted Pei out of obscurity and onto the front page.
That actually is what made our firm. I really believe that. And, therefore, made me as an architect. Because until then, I was not known at all. And after that, people became much more interested in my work.
The firm’s most glittering prize, designed by partner Henry Cobb, was the headquarters for the John Hancock Mutual Life Insurance Company. A pristine example of modern skyscraper design, this elegant tower today dominates the Boston skyline. But in the early 1970s, its sleek design, in the heart of Copley Square, raised the eyebrows of conservative Bostonians. Just as it was nearing completion, one window blew out, then another, and another. A violent storm blew out dozens more, and shattered glass littered the streets. The nightmare had only begun. One-third of the windows were boarded up with plywood.
When the windows started to break across, all those past critics gather force. They were relentless attacking us. And we had a terrible time, very difficult time.
Lawsuits flew in all directions. The fight to clear its name nearly brought Pei’s firm to a standstill. Seven years later, settlement found against the window company, but the damage to Pei and associates had already been done.
After the Hancock problem developed, I would say big companies shied away from us. I know that.
The shadows of the Hancock years finally disappeared in the sun-drenched spaces of Pei’s addition to the national gallery of art in Washington, D.C. dramatic, elegant, and grand, when the east building opened in 1978, it signaled a change in the way atchitecture approached the viewing of art. Critics loved it. But it was the public whose eyes opened widest. Pei had imagined a place where people would like to come. And come they did.
In the past, I think they don’t particularly care how many people come to the museum, as long as it’s a good place to deposit and to show art. I think they were satisfied with that. So, this atrium is created for the public to gather here in large crowds, like today, and to be able to see art at the same time. And then when I saw hordes of people coming, looking, walking around, very happy, made me feel that architecture can do something very important in the domain of public education. At that time, the space museum was being built. I was very concerned about attracting the young people here. Because the space museum, with the moon module, with all those old airplanes, there’s a tremendous competition. Yet how can we bring people here? Bring families here with their children? And have fun here and enjoy it? This is what this museum has accomplished. When I saw the school groups coming in, I just enjoyed it. I thought it was wonderful.
Pei’s vision changed expectations about what a visit to a museum could be. Still, it had to be mindful of the museum’s classical 19th-century west building. Together, they had to make a unified architectural pair – comfortable with each other, yet different in their roles. No one was more mindful of this double-edged mandate than J. Carter Brown, then the museum’s director.
“What I like also, and what a lot of people miss, is the subtle ways in which this building responds to the original John Russel Pope Building, by respecting the axis that goes driving right through. And to me the greatest stroke of genius is that when you come out of the west building and you look through, you see the twin towers of this building exactly framing that axis, and the edge of the third tower coming right on a line that is defined by those glass doors. And there’s even a line in the marble that carries it out. One of the real challenges is what to do with this space in between. And it was I. M.’s idea to do what I think he coined ‘a carpet of stone,’ which goes right though the street, so that as cars go back and forth, they hear a different texture and it’s a different color, and they know they’re on the axis joining two buildings. Even my own father, I remember, said, ‘Carter, be careful. If you want to add on to the national gallery of art, make sure it doesn’t look as if the building had a pup. I.M. solved that problem.”
Everything hinged on Pei’s being able to work within the limitations imposed by an awkward plot of land, consisting of four uneven sides. Instead of being constricted by the site, Pei changed his perception of it. By imaging a line that cut the space diagonally, he now saw the plot as two triangular forms. The triangle gave the building its light motif. On one simple geometric theme, Pei composed endless variations as rich as a fugue. Open to the light, the building soared skyward, like a modern cathedral. From the outset, Pei could see the building in his mind’s eye. He imagined, on a monumental scale, that he bought his work to fruition with a jewel cutter’s precision.
I wanted this very, very sharp angle, because I think the crispness of that line is so essential to the design that any blunting of it would lose a lot force. The stone-people objected to that. They say, “We’ve never done it this way because, if we do it, it will be broken. And then afterwards, you will regret it.” So they recommended that I cut it back to here and have a sort of a flat edge that is strong enough to be able to take the kind of abuse that it might get. I told them I understood all that, but I was willing to take a chance. It’s one of those things you have to say, ‘Yes, you don’t disagree,’ but you’re willing to take a chance. Then they had nothing to say. They said, ‘That’s your responsibility.’ So, therefore, when I see this every time, I always want to be sure there’s not a big chunk of it knocked off. And it’s turned out people like it. They obviously do because they touch it. The sharpness is what now attracts people. I hadn’t expected that. To maximize the spatial interests in a big space like this, I think that the triangle comes into play. The bridges, the passages – they all go in many directions and that creates an interest that you couldn’t get if this were designed on a rectangular module.
Like an artist composing his canvas, Pei placed works specially commissioned from sculptors, including friends like Henry Moore and Jean Dubuffet. And beneath the dancing shapes of the Alexander Calder Mobile are the walkways that lead into the museum’s many smaller galleries. Pei himself is a long-time museumgoer, a collector, and friend of many abstract artists. If museums ultimately are about the act of looking, Pei brings to his architecture an abundance of experience.
I love sculpture. Sculpture is closer to my work, closer to architecture, I think, than painting. And I have a feeling for it. This is something not surprising, because I have many, many friends who are sculptors. So I’ve always liked sculpture. I wish I could be one myself, but unfortunately not to be.
What was to be were his sculpture forms that give modern architecture its classic identity. In building after building, elegant interiors speak of size and occasion. Pei was creating a body of work that defined the language of public spaces.
The light that doesn’t change in the back on the tower, that yellow light. On the face of the tower? I’d just like to simplify the lighting a bit and not make it so nervous.
In the lost hours before is opening, the rock and roll hall of fame, the temple to the music of youth and rebellion, is having its finishing touches finessed by its 78-year old architect. Suppose in the poor spot you have something. You have a color just slowly move across the entire heart of the building. And then these little things happen. Quiet passages should be quieter. And then every so often this little thing erupts. Instead of always little incidents. So we soften the top and make the bottom…Right.
Cleveland’s new landmark hangs over Lake Erie like energy poured into solid forms. Rock music was new to Pei, but rebellions in art were not.
Ya! I don’t mind that, right now. I don’t see any definition between this surface and that surface.
“But do you enjoy rock and roll at all?” Not as much as my children. That I know.
“Why did you decide to do this job? You were sort of moving toward retirement at the time.”
“There seems to be a metaphor of explosion.”
“Do you think of this in any sense as a shrine to rock and roll?” No.
“Do you like the cars?” It’s true I didn’t have much say about it.
That one’s Elvis. Elvis Presley? I thought so.
When the empire builders of rock and roll wanted a crown jewel, a permanent showcase to house rock treasures, they went to the artist who is consistently at the top of the charts.
“After we started the education of I.M. Pei, about two or three months into it, finally I.M. called me up one day and said, ‘You know, I think I understand it now, and I think I can do this building for you because I’ve figured out what the music is about. And I said,‘Well, okay. What is it about?’ He said, ‘It’s about energy.’”
“I knew that whenever we’d get this done that it was going to be beautiful.”
“Ahmet was a great defender of I.M. because it finally came to the point, ‘his fees are too big.’ And Ahmet looked at him and said, ‘His name is I.M. Pei, not I am free.”
I was here a week ago. I was here two weeks ago. And every time I come I like it better and better. I tell you why. This building needs people. And when it’s empty, which is the way I saw it a couple of weeks ago, I was a little concerned. But now with people coming and going, all of a sudden I think the place comes alive. I can hardly wait until the public comes in.
“Let’s do it! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! The rock and roll hall of fame is officially open.” I’ve been waiting for this moment.
I think the challenge is the problem itself. Problems are different, particularly in my case, I have the great fortune of being able to do work in many parts of the world, where the history, the traditions, are very different, one from the other. How can I design a building in Japan to be somewhat reminiscent of something I have done in Dallas, Texas? How can it be? It’s wrong. Because of that, the opportunity for originality is there. You don’t have to impose your own personal style. “Because I am what I am, I am going to give Japan the same building, or same kind of a building, as I would give to Dallas, Texas.” cannot be. So, therefore, stylistic originality is not my purpose. I want to find the originality in the time, the place, and the problem.
Dallas had a first-rate symphony, but not a concert hall worthy of the State of Texas. Twelve years in the making the Meyerson Symphony Center was not so much a change of direction for Pei as it was drawn with a freer hand.
I’ve been a concertgoer for all my life, so I’m very keen about the possibility of doing a concert hall. But the opportunity never came to me, because I’ve been indentified very much with other kinds of work. But when it did come, in this case from the city of Dallas, I told them, “As a matter of fact, yes, I would like to do one. I’d like to do one before I die.” This is exactly what I told them. And they said, “This is your choice.” so this, therefore, to me is more than just another commission. It’s also a labor of love.
The shape of the hall’s interior had been dictated by the acoustical engineer. But what was right for the music was out of tune with what Pei wanted for the rest of the building.
You have a rectangular box, a big one. The room is very big. And you have to surround that hall, this box, with something else. Now, what you surround it with, how you surround it, that’s where the design comes in. Then we can apply other things, like introducing circles. And we have several circles outside within the two rectangles, circular forms. And we have several circles outside within the two rectangles, circular forms. And that creates a variety of spatial possibilities. You want people to come in here and lose yourself and forget about the streets, the everyday life, and enter into another time, another world. I think there is a little bit of that attempt to set people’s mind apart from what they have been doing all day long.
The national gallery, I mentioned once that there are only three vanishing points because it’s a triangle. Most of building, only two vanishing points because it’s a square grid. But when you get into a baroque church, there are infinite number of vanishing points. “Vanishing points” is a technical term, but I think most people understand that because of that, as you move around in that space, the space moves. Because of that, you get a certain excitement. If you stand here and look at it, that’s what it is. And you can capture that. But once you move, the space begin to move with you. And I think you will see that. Because of these curved lines, they become curvilinear forms and curvilinear space. Music excites a certain kind of vibration in me. I feel that this is the moment I will be able to develop more, beyond the triangular grid. Now, curvilinear surfaces enter into this building. It’s a natural sequence of change. Architecture is not something that you can just willfully say, “So this is the time for me to change my style.” No, I don’t think so. I like to think that it’s an evolutionary process in development. Maybe it’s more mature. I’m sure it is. I’m old. I’ve seen more. But not change. My work is not one that would excite people to say, “Look at this, I’ve never seen that before.” No, not at all. In fact, I would like them to say, “Yes, it’s very well done, but I’ve been it. I know this is by him.” So I don’t think you’ll find this to be a breakthrough of any kind. It’s a continuous process of development. And it’s a result of having seen a lot, and having thought about it, hopefully also a lot.
They’re there. The influence from Mies, from Le Corbusier, from Breuer. They’re all here. But it’s transformed. Just like you absorb something, and it cannot help but come out. But it doesn’t come out exactly the same. You cannot completely digest it and change. And that’s the only way. If you only learn and then repeat, you make nothing, no progress, and no contribution at all.
This profession teaches you to see and because your eyes are what is going to teach you about buildings, you therefore learn to see, and you learn to see different things, and they’re not all in one place. And sometimes, they’re in place far away from home. And, therefore, you have to travel. Traveling, seeing, visiting is more important to your education as an architect than reading books and following designs by Mies Van Der Rohe or Le Corbusier. You have to learn yourself by seeing. And therefore, the life becomes a richer life because the world is yours in a way, because you know the history of that world.
I.M. Pei’s place in architectural history spans the modern era. He is the architect of his time. He has committed his life to the belief that for architecture to live in the future, its source must be rooted in the past.
The glass pyramid is not unaware of the script. We’re dealing with a project 800 years old, continuous. In order to make a proper addition to it, one has to be aware of its long history. Many of the succession of kings, they all devoted to making the Louvre bigger and better, more livable, and more important. It’s just like adding another grain of sand to time.
I think that’s important. This date here says, “1541”, Francis I began the Louvre. In 1564, Catherine de Medicis began the tuileries, the garden, because he built the chateau de tuileries. So these are the historic dates for the expansion of the Louvre, step by step. Then Napoleon III, he was the one that reunited the Louvre with the tuileries. That was an important move, and perhaps the last piece of work done to the Louvre until today.
How many people were there in 1982? Three million people came here in 1983. Per year, annual. Now, it’s doubled. Six million. The numbers pleased Pei, but it was the vitality of the Louvre that summed up a lifetime. Onetime callers returned like regulars, and short visits lengthened into long afternoons. If architecture is about life, a Pei building teems with it. It is the sum total that defines the Pei signature – a feeling as light as air, a joy in simply being there.
I thought it would be fun to do something as the French called a ‘folie’. A funpiece. So I decided to reverse the pyramid and bring it down. By bringing it down, we’re able to bring light in and give you a symbol, a frivolous kind of a symbol, but that’s not occupying any space.
The Louvre was once hard to get to. Pei, the city planner, never forgot the first lessons he learned in New York. To the north, you can go to the Rue de Rivoli and you can also go to the subway. And that’s very important. So that way you have a connection to rapid transit. This direction you go to the tuileries gardens. There are two grand stairs that lead you out to the garden. Beyond the gardens, is the celebrated Parisian boulevard into which the Louvre flows, and the parade of city life to which it now belongs. The passageways, once off-limits, are now a route of preference. The entire Louvre is now open to the public. They don’t have to come to the Louvre. Like these are students, they didn’t used to walk through Napoleon Court. Now they do. Why? Because from here, they can go to the left bank. So now this is sort of a crossroad without having to go into the museum.
Difficult to say how I feel. I have to say that I feel very, very proud to have a hand in this. But I cannot say it without also mentioning that it was also a piece of great luck. I happened to be here in 1983 at the right time. And circumstances is what I continue to reflect on, what made it possible for me to participate in this historic undertaking. It’s something of great importance in my life.
