Back to the Basics with Yao Jen-hsi

interview by Vito Lee　/　photos courtesy of Yao Jen-hsi　/　tr. by Scott Gregory

December 2005

中文日本語

Yao Jen-hsi studied Western-style architecture, but in recent years, his works have shown an Eastern twist. His Yanghuei Lyceum, modeled after Chinese Buddhist temples, won the 1999 Taiwan Architecture Prize.

From the art world to the sciences, this is an age where creativity is king. Taiwanese are demanding creative approaches to aesthetics, applications of high technology, and product development--it's the defining trend of the era.

But in the world of architecture, which mixes science and art, what is creativity, and how can it be brought about? Taiwanese master architect Yao Jen-hsi shared his ideas on the topic.

A graduate of Tunghai University's Department of Architecture, Yao went on to obtain a Master's from the University of California, Berkeley before entering the working world. Through his career, which spans two decades, he's won numerous awards. The company he heads, Artech Architects, is one of Taiwan's most in-demand architectural firms and has projects throughout the nation.

Yao doesn't see himself as just an architect, however. He's also a practitioner of Tibetan Buddhism. His occupation and his beliefs have become one. Yao's works give an impression of a humble, peaceful, and modest character.

Basic technique is the source of creativity. A few years ago, I wanted to try something new and take up oil painting. I wanted to get some of the images in my mind down on canvas in paint, so I went to the art supply store and bought some materials. But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get it right. I kept at it for a long time but it was too frustrating so I finally gave up.

I am a person who tends to think visually, and after being in architecture for so long I find that my finished works tend to come out more or less as I had imagined them. But I just couldn't make that happen with oil painting. A keen sense of space is not the same as a sense for color and brush strokes. But even more important is the fact that I've never been trained in the basics of that field.

Many people mistakenly believe that creativity bursts out of nowhere to the sound of heavenly choruses, but that's not the case. If you don't know the basics, your creativity won't manifest itself, but if you've got a solid training in the basics, you'll be able to be creative on the spur of the moment as easily as riding a bike.

Without the basics, it's all style and no substance. In architecture, computer graphics programs have been making advances over the last few years. They allow us to make beautiful three-dimensional models really easily, and a lot of young people use them to make very eye-catching, exciting stuff.

It's true that it's important for a building to have a striking facade, but it's not the only thing. A building has internal elements, like its function, structure, and space, which are not on the surface. But the surface is the most easily noticeable thing. That's a result of our materialistic and utilitarian society--many think that that's all there is to architecture.

For the most part, exteriors are trendy things like mosaics, glass-panel high rises, and granite walls--as soon as they go out of fashion, they are abandoned. If people study architecture and only study those things, then the state of the art will deteriorate into trendiness.

The Song-dynasty poet Lu You said, "Writings are created by the heavens, and occasionally a deft hand can catch them." We have to train to make our hands deft. That's the essential training--continuous practice. Then occasionally, under some uncertain circumstances, you can catch your creativity. It's heaven's creation, but if you meet the criteria, heaven will manifest its work through you. To me, that's the real creative process.

Font of creativity

"In studying, one gains something every day. In pursuing the Tao, one loses something every day until nothing is done. Nothing is done so nothing is left undone." Recently I read this sentence in Laozi's Dao De Jing and wrote it next to my desk. I think it's an interesting sentence when talking about learning the basics.

Usually when you study something, you're supposed to gain more and more each day--like learning singing, painting, architecture, yoga, or even science. From the time we are children, we "gain something every day," whether it's knowledge or technique we are accumulating. From a Bachelor's to a Master's to a PhD, we go up and up, becoming more and more specialized. But with practicing the Tao, it's the opposite--"losing something every day," having less and less every day until there's nothing. The ultimate goal is not-doing. Not-doing doesn't mean not taking any action, but rather that since you don't seek or scheme after anything, you are more able to spontaneously follow your nature in everything you do. You could call it inner liberation or enlightenment--it's the same.

Whether you're a dancer, an architect, or a painter, if you are always seeking external things and hoping to attain things, then that really doesn't help you achieve harmony with yourself or allow you to release that kind of creativity everyone talks about. So if you think of creativity as a "Tao," it will be at a more spiritual, inner level, and practice is the way to lose something.

What do you want to lose? From a Buddhist perspective, you want to lose attachments and ego--lose the thought "I want!" Then, continuing from a Buddhist perspective, how is it that you can do anything? It's because everyone has the intrinsic Buddha-nature.

Modern society, with its materialism and utilitarianism, is more focused on external things. We are accustomed to relying on external things such as status, wealth, or influence, to judge a person's success. Maybe everyone is too fixated on the gaining part of the equation and has forgotten about the internal practice of losing, so it's difficult for them to really shine out.

Our minds are too busy, overstimulated and aggravated by too much information and too many events, always rushing to react with hardly any time to rest. After being bombarded like that, it's tougher to present your inner self. So all you have to do is find a way not to be so busy and tense, and your innate wisdom will resolve many things for you. Theoretically, you could find answers to all your questions.

Also, if you are always rushing around, you will miss a lot of the scenery along the way. That's because as soon as we get anxious about something, our minds become more closed. Only when we open ourselves do we discover that many things are speaking to us. That's actually like the words of Laozi: "In pursuing the Tao, one loses something every day," and "Stop studying and be without worry." The fewer attachments you have, the more your mind will open and the more you will be able to take in resources. You will be able to make connections that others are unable to see--things will represent deep metaphors to you and act as a source for your creations.

I'm lucky to be in architecture, for to me it's not just a profession, but an important, inseparable part of my life. The buildings I have designed clearly reflect all the stages of my life. When I look back at my works, I can see mistakes, as well as some surprisingly good points. As people grow, they show some of their life's problems, quests, and answers in their works. Architecture is like this, as is painting or writing novels.

Is this a kind of "Tao"? I can't say. But I'm sure that it is a path. I hope it leads to somewhere bright, and not a dead end.