Nani Nani [1989] is something strange. It's the first building I did. I'm sorry to show something so ugly in this famous architecture school. When somebody asked me to make a building in Tokyo, I was very happy. And I said, "But what can I do for these people, because they have Arato Isozaki, Shiro Kuramata, and others. They do beautiful work, and what can I do?" And I remembered something: I work only with intuition. I have the intuition that perhaps we can find a language, a common ground between them and us, using a symbolic monster. Remember Godzilla? Godzilla was the symbol of the atomic bomb; the Japanese people work only in symbols like that. That's why I think they like monsters. "OK, I shall make for them a monster." And I commit "nani nani" - the scream that the Japanese make when they meet a ghost. They scream "Naniii! Naniiii!" And I was waiting for people to do the same thing in the street when they saw my building. The Nani Nani is just design. And if I am just making beautiful design, I definitely prefer a nap. You know, the idea is to make something special, to make an emotion, what I call "the fertile surprise." But it's very difficult to build in Tokyo, because space is scarce and because there are so many rules. So this building is strictly, purely functional. Some people said I was functionalist because - oooooo! - I made everything square. No. The Bauhaus was seventy years ago, and now there is a new way to be a functionalist with a lot of other parameters. When you are an architect, you will have dreams, and sometimes your dreams will be futile because nobody will pay for them. People say, "My god, your building is too costly - are you crazy?" When a developer tells you that, if you say, "I shall pay for it myself," then it's very easy. I have paid for all the buildings I designed. But I am not rich enough. That's why I made a strong image in Tokyo, so when the developer shows it in the magazines, everybody wants it. Or people want to spend money to be in this incredible building. A very easy way to pay for your dream in architecture is to make something that helps people find their image; then they create the money to build it.
The Asahi Beer Hall [1990] was made for the Asahi group in Tokyo. It's big, 100 meters. It's mainly symbolic. As with everything, I am always not happy with what I do, and I come back to the bridge here, and I was crying a little, and a good friend from Mexico sees me very down and asks me, "Why do you cry?" I say, "Because itÍs an enormous bullshit." And he said, "No, no, . . . well, perhaps . . . I cannot decide, but return and you will see." With something like this, either you hate it or you love it, but you must react. The worst thing is not reacting. Seriously, I don't know even today if it's really bullshit. But I know it's in a very poor area in Tokyo, and the people there are really proud it - they have given it the name of a god, and I love this idea - that's why it's "The God Bullshit." And that is why you should never be afraid. Today this building is on the cover of the Tokyo Guide - it's a sign. Make what you feel, make what you want. Be free, and afterward society will decide; the city and society are self-cleaning: all the things they don't like will disappear. That's why you can make errors and take risks.
Palais de I«ElysŽe 1983-1984
CafŽ Costes, Paris 1984
Restaurant Theatron Mexico, 1985
Creeks, Paris, 1986
Jouet et Cie, Paris, 1986
Restaurant Manin, Tokyo, 1987
Laguiole factory, Laguiole, 1987
27 rue Pierre Poli Maison Lemoult, Paris, 1987
Puzzle, Paris 1987 (Interior Design)
La Cigale, Paris 1988
CafŽ Mystiquw, Tokyo 1988
Agence design agency, Paris 1990
Botique Hugo Boss, Paris 1991
Asia de Cuba Restaurant, New York 1997
Ensad, Paris 1998
And many more...