Vladimir Belogolovsky speaks with Russian architect Totan Kuzembaev about flexibility in buildings, the freedom in design, and that even after leading a successful practice for almost twenty years, he still keeps searching for how to make architecture.
Russian architect Totan Kuzembaev (b. 1953, Kazakhstan) never limited himself with what was expected from a young Soviet practitioner following his graduation from the Moscow Architectural Institute, MArchI in 1982. Working at a government-run design institute on contextualizing typical residential blocks and factories that looked pretty much the same all over the country wasn’t satisfactory. So, he used his unbound imagination and excellent drawing skills to take part in all kinds of side projects.
For the next few years, Kuzembaev successfully participated in then-very popular Shinkenchiku architectural idea competitions organized by Japan Architect magazine. One of his projects, Bastion of Resistance that he submitted with his classmate from MArchI, Andrei Ivanov, won the first prize in 1983. His other entries also brought awards. By the end of that decade state-commissioned projects dried up and Kuzembaev transitioned to working on experimental art installations out of secondhand materials and all kinds of construction waste. That helped him to survive during difficult times. The originality of his works —proposals for an idealistic urban future— caught the attention of various art galleries and he was invited to present his installations all around the world. Yet, Kuzembaev’s triumph as an artist never wavered his commitment to pursuing architecture.
Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, Kuzembaev was asked to work on private commissions —fireplaces, furniture, stairs, and interiors, which he did with his own hands. The scale of his commissions grew and in 2002, he opened his own architectural practice. The following is a part of our recent video WhatsApp interview between New York and Totan Kuzembaev’s apartment in Moscow; we discussed the architect’s belief that buildings should change over time just like their occupants, the need for restrictions as opposed to freedom, the absolute necessity to do everything his way, and that even after leading a successful practice for almost twenty years, he still keeps searching for how to make architecture.
Vladimir Belogolovsky (VB): Your houses are unlike any others. On the one hand, they project certain images, as they are given such nicknames as a Glowworm, Telescope, Crampfish, Dragon, and Bridge. On the other hand, they are quite abstract, undefined, and somewhat unfinished. Where do all these ideas come from?
Totan Kuzembaev (TK): More than anything, I am inspired by people, meaning – my clients, builders, and my team at the office. Together we study the site, where the sun rises, where it sets, identify interesting views, topography. I want to know why the client bought the site – because of a beautiful tree, pond, slope, and so on. It is impossible to think that I would ever sit down and dream up a house unrelated to its place. Each house is growing gradually out of its place and function. A house can’t be pretentious, it must be functional and constructive. So, a form is never projected abstractly. All our houses are crooked and very specific because in one place we were going around a pine tree, in another – we may try to incorporate a slope, and so on. The image comes on its own and subconsciously. And the nicknames are often given by the builders during the construction when forms start to emerge. I work subconsciously and often it is impossible to predict what thoughts will enter my mind.
VB: Yet, you are very conscious about the damage that building industry may cause to nature. As you said, “The best architect is someone who realized nothing – any building is an act of violence against nature.”
TK: Absolutely. You know, I tell everyone – the best architect is a dead architect. [Laughs.] Meaning, paper architect is ideal because nothing is ever built. Nature can live without us, but we can’t exist without nature. I try to work as a doctor – not to harm. I know it is impossible, but I try to do it with minimal impact, particularly by using natural materials.
VB: You once said, “A house should be nurtured like a child.” Like a child, like a flower, a tree. In other words, you are not pursuing an image that you imagine as a goal. To build a house is to respond to very specific challenges – the site, client, function, materials, and of course, your imagination.
TK: You can say that. In other words, a house is growing up like a plant that needs to be taken care of for a long time. That’s why some of my houses look unfinished. They keep growing and changing after they are inhabited by my clients. I am against the idea that houses should remain unchanged. Many of our houses get extensions. I like that. Also, my houses are typically built out of wood, which changes with time. That’s a very natural thing. This is wonderful – a person is changing, and his or her house is changing as well. The person is getting wiser and the house is getting wiser with the person. Some clients don’t understand this. In that case, they would have to take a very good care of their houses, as they do of their yachts, for example. Just like a yacht a house would have to be sanded down, varnished, and so on – twice a year. Another way to achieve perfect aging is to put your house in the glass case. [Laughs.] But I welcome all kinds of changes, and when a person outgrowth his or her house or the new owner will not like it for whatever reason, why not take the house down and build a new one? That should be the owner’s decision.
VB: You said once, “Architecture is like a person – it gets born, lives, and dies.” In other words, once a house has lived its life it needs to die. Another person will come and build a new house.
TK: That is exactly right. That’s how I treat my houses. At the same time, I had new owners who would ask me to restore my original houses that I designed and built years ago. They want to resurrect their original state. And I am fine with that as well.
VB: Once you pointed out, “If you want to baffle an architect let him be free. If I were told – do what you wish, I wouldn’t know where to start. There would be nothing to hold on to. There would be nothing to fight for.” That means you believe that architecture is a fight; a fight with who or what?
TK: The most interesting architecture occurs when an architect finds an unexpected solution in a hopeless situation. That’s where I see the most important mission of an architect. But if you simply need to put a house in the middle of a field without any restrictions nothing interesting will come out of it. Architecture is a reaction to a particular challenge, to the wish of a client, or particularities of the site. Architectural plasticity comes as a response to a specific task. Any condition is a hint for the architect. You can do just about anything without a hint. Personally, I get lost. More so, what’s important are the material preferences and available budget. An architect can’t work as a pure artist. We are rather parasitizing on the ambitions of our clients and at the same time take great pleasure at what we do at their expense. [Laughs.]
VB: Every client has a particular wish, but architects have their own agenda. As you said, “If you only knew out of what junk my ideas get constructed!”
TK: Yes, I attest to that. I have no idea how that happens. There is such a mess in my head. I have a lecture that I called “A Cross Section of an Architect” because if you cut any architect you will find all kinds of junk in there. [Laughs.] What’s important is to be able to look inside and inquire. It is always possible to find something useful. All projects evolve differently, and it is hard to predict how long it will take to arrive at a solution. There are no rules, no recipes. During my lectures, while discussing a certain chronology of projects, images of parallel projects, drawings, or even various events in my family, unrelated to work, come up. All of that is a part of my creative process. For example, right now, we are talking, and I am drawing something on paper because I can’t help it. I am always drawing. I may wake up at night and start drawing. I was asked to design a temporary bell tower for the parishioners while the construction of a new church is underway, and now I am drawing a structure with columns supporting a round roof. I am drawing, subconsciously.
In architecture, just like in all arts you must keep creating something new. It is just like in science – you must discover something, you must advance, even if just for one step. To repeat something is boring. It is the same as if you were to buy different ready-made objects for your house and simply arrange them. That’s not interesting. I am interested in coming up with something on my own.
VB: You studied and started practicing architecture during the Soviet times when architecture was the product of mass-production and very few architects were able to create iconic buildings. Nevertheless, you were looking for opportunities to express your individuality from the outset. It is inherent in you, isn’t it?
TK: Of course. I have no explanation for it, but I always wanted to do everything my own way. Even when we created Egyptian reliefs for residential interiors, I would always add elements of modern life that could only be noticed upon very close examination. I remember how one client told us that she was warned by her astrologist that ancient texts can hide improper meanings. So, I brought her very closely to those inscriptions and what seemed to her as hieroglyphs, suddenly crumbled into a chaotic collage, assembled out of crooked forks, spoons, and random spare parts from old phones and all kinds of clutter.
VB: As you once said, “We sell air.”
TK: It is true. We produce nothing; we package a dream.
VB: And you noted, “I am still a student. I learn everything from everyone.”
TK: That is also true. I am still not sure about anything. I am full of doubts despite many years of experience. Still, I continue my search and try to do everything in a new way every time. And when I am working on new projects, I always ask myself, “Will it be taken seriously, or will it make people laugh?”
Read Vladimir Belogolovsky's previous interviews published on ArchDaily.
