Curating “Modern Life” and Architecture in Taiwan, Part 2
如需阅读本文的中文版，请点击此处。This is the second part of a two-part conversation about an exhibition organized at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum last year. Co-curated by Wang Chun-Hsiung, Wu Kwang-Tyng, and Wang Tseng-Yung, the exhibition highlighted thirty-two architectural projects built in Taiwan between 1949 and 1983 as evidence of the dramatic changes that took place within Taiwanese society amid rapid economic development and cultural transformation. Cole Roskam recently spoke with Wang Chun-Hsiung and Wu Kwang-Tyng to discuss the exhibition, its public reception and broader significance, and their thoughts on Taiwan’s architectural history and contemporary architectural production.
Cole Roskam: There are a number of established figures in Taiwan’s modern architectural history featured in the exhibition—names such as Chang Chao-kang, Chen Chi-kuan, and Wang Da-hong, for example. There are others who may be less familiar to architectural historians studying Greater China and Asia, however, including several that I, for example, didn't know prior to reading your exhibition catalogue.
Adrian Wilson from the United States is one example. Following World War II, the Chinese Civil War, and the outbreak of the Korean War, the United States saw Taiwan as important to its interests in Asia, and provided defense and military support, education, public health and housing, as well as city planning and infrastructure consultation support. Adrian Wilson Associates offered consulting services to the United States government and helped in the design and construction of several military buildings in Taiwan.
The former main library of National Cheng Kung University, which was a collaboration between Cheng Kung University and Purdue University, was another example of Taiwan-US engagement through design (Figure 1). To what extent is the inclusion of such work a new contribution to understanding Taiwan’s modern architectural history?
Figure 1. Former main library of National Cheng Kung University, Wang Ji-Chang, Wu Mei-Xing, Chen Wan-Rong, and W.I. Freel, Tainan, 1959. Photography Taipei Fine Arts Museum.
Wang Chun-Hsiung: My knowledge of this topic primarily comes from two sources. One is the oral histories of Taiwanese architects, particularly the accounts of Architect Ming-Xiu Wu, and the other is Jeff Cody’s research on the global expansion of American architecture after World War II. Simply put, the transmission of architectural influence was quite direct.
Architects like Wilson came to Taiwan as part of U.S. military advisory teams or American aid organizations, providing Taiwanese architects with a set of professional standards. At the time, Taiwan's architectural practice was undergoing a transformation. Before the war, the Japanese colonial government had left behind a system based on Japanese construction drawing methods and design logic. The system typically included the production of only two or three sheets of paper for a building, without spatial coordinates. Today, we draw column centerlines and include coordinates, but the Japanese approach did not. Their basic format included a floor plan, followed by elevations for all four directions, then a section, and finally, detailed drawings for important areas in the margins. Again, these drawings typically consisted of just two or three sheets of paper.
However, the American approach brought a different method. American construction drawings usually included a complete set with a clear organizational structure. It started with a floor plan; specific areas were enlarged and shown in detail. These drawings were divided into three main parts: architectural drawings (A), structural drawings (S), and mechanical/electrical drawings (M). These three systems would be integrated and constituted a comprehensive design approach (Figure 2).
Figure 2. Architectural drawing, San Sin High School of Commerce and Home Economics (Wave Building), Chen Ren-He, Kaohsiung, 1963. Source: National Taiwan Museum.
Next, the Americans introduced a system of review in the public sector. While such a system existed during the Japanese colonial period, it was not as mature or bureaucratic as it was in the United States If you read Exporting American Architecture, 1870-2000 by Jeff Cody, you can understand how American bureaucratization became linked to the U.S. military's experience during World War II. To handle the demands of the war, they developed a highly sophisticated logistics management system, which included multiple layers of reviews and integration of different departments. Such practices were unimaginable in Taiwan at the time. As a result, the first thing we saw after the war was the establishment of the architectural profession in Taiwan.
Secondly, the triangular relationship between architects, clients, and contractors was also established. During the Japanese colonial period, there was no such clear collaboration. For example, a client would not specifically hire someone to draw the plans while separately employing a contractor. The contractor and the creator of the plans might be the same person. At the very least, the division of labor was not as clearly defined, and there was no legal relationship between them. However, after the war, this collaboration model became very clear.
Wu Kwang-Tyng: I think the most important issue is the review system. It helped Taiwan establish a so-called statement of purpose (SOP), which required that architects be defined by certain required skills and that architectural production adhere to specific standards. American aid units such as Adrian Wilson Associates and JG White Engineering completed gradual reviews of the architectural field in Taiwan. They had more stringent requirements on budget issues, and they reviewed architectural designs, and their influence facilitated the formation of Taiwan's professional design and construction production systems. Of course, they also trained several young Taiwanese architects at the time, particularly Wilson. They knew how to use this system, and this system had a significant impact on Taiwan's architecture. I think this system is a critical part of architectural production in Taiwan.
Cole Roskam: What’s the significance and value of this history today? There’s a tendency to understand the twentieth-century history of architecture in Taiwan and Greater China as a dichotomous relationship between tradition vs. modernity, with different building practices, styles, and materials often understood as emblematic of a so-called traditional or modern sensibility. Examples like Adrian Wilson, the influence of American aid, etc., can be difficult to position within such a dichotomy.
The history of special economic zones in Taiwan, such as Kaohsiung, would also seem relevant here. Do you still see dichotomies of the traditional versus the modern as relevant or important to understanding Taiwan’s architectural history, given what these examples reveal with regards to different architectural practices, financing structures, and systems of working in Taiwan after World War II?
Wang Chun-Hsiung: When discussing this issue, I believe it should be viewed from a holistic historical perspective rather than simply judged in terms of good or bad. It is an inevitable outcome of historical development. After the war, Taiwan found itself in the midst of the Cold War and, to this day, still needs to choose a side. If Taiwan chose to align with the U.S. camp, it had to establish close ties with the American capitalist system—it was impossible to be part of that system while simultaneously attempting to maintain a unique institutional approach.
Take architecture as an example. Without figures like Wilson driving the transformation of Taiwan’s architectural industry, the sector would not have been able to play a supporting role in Taiwan’s economic development. This influence persists even today. For instance, TSMC’s expansion still relies on a highly efficient and tightly organized approach to factory construction to sustain rapid industrial growth. After World War II, the primary role of Taiwan’s architectural system was to integrate into the American system. Whether this model is superior is another matter, but its operational structure was inevitable. Only by following this path could Taiwan become part of the broader economic system and establish connections with the American and Japanese economies.
In conclusion, this was a process of capitalization—Americanization was essentially a form of capitalization—and it was a historical reality that Taiwan had no choice but to face. By the 2000s, many young architects at the time began adopting architectural methods that diverged from those introduced via the traditional American capitalist model. Regardless of these differences, however, they were still operating within the capitalist system, which is undeniable.
For example, when I was an undergraduate student in the 1980s, diverse approaches to architecture were not discussed. There was only one path: obtaining an architect’s license, then establishing a firm. The manner of running an architectural firm was entirely modeled after the American system, with no other alternatives. We never even considered other possibilities. Interestingly, however, the changes that took place in the 1990s led us to start exploring whether new possibilities could emerge, even within the capitalist system.
Cole Roskam: Maybe we could follow that with a related question about contemporary Taiwanese architecture in light of current geo-political tensions. Do you think, for example, that the design and production of semiconductor technology and the transfer of this technology into the United States from Taiwan, specifically through the physical construction of Taiwanese semiconductor factories in places such as Arizona, can be included and theorized within a broader spatial history of Taiwan (Figure 3)? Do you see those facilities and spaces as part of the narrative you have presented in the exhibition and your research?
Figure 3. Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing fabrication facility, Phoenix, AZ, 2024 (tsmc.com).
Wang Chun-Hsiung: From a macro-historical point of view, we are still in the midst of a historical entanglement between East Asia and the United States. For example, when discussing the formation of post-war Taiwanese architecture, we cannot ignore the influence of the United States.
This way of discussing the topic is actually quite unique. For instance, when we talk about Taiwanese literature, we don’t usually discuss the influence of American aid in the post-war period. However, in architecture, the influence of American aid was very direct. This contrasts with Taiwan’s architectural development before the war, when Japanese colonialism influenced my father’s generation, most of whom spoke Japanese. This generation of people understood the concept of modern architecture by reading Japanese books and documents. So, for me, so-called Taiwanese architecture has indeed been profoundly influenced by both Japan and the United States.
However, this doesn’t mean that Taiwan has to become either American or Japanese. It’s similar to what we see in Taiwanese cuisine: we can blend all these influences together and respond in our own way. This kind of response generally has a spontaneous feel. As a creator in such a cultural context, one must be flexible and able to shift perspectives. I believe that this approach has not fundamentally changed to this day.
For example, Taiwanese architecture has been greatly influenced by mainland China in the last 20 to 30 years. Among the architects I know, five out of ten have projects in mainland China or otherwise maintain some kind of connection to it. However, this does not mean that Taiwan will become part of China, because Taiwan ultimately has its own situation to handle. In this process, what is known as Taiwanese consciousness has gradually formed.
This consciousness was not formed 300 or 400 years ago, as some historical viewpoints of Taiwan history suggest, but rather it has been gradually shaped during the post-war period, particularly during the 1970s. Questions with regards to Taiwanese identity, and the specificity of Taiwanese culture, fueled debate that influenced a range of cultural production, including architecture. For example, the design criteria for the Taipei Fine Arts Museum referenced the revival of Chinese culture, which Kao Er-Pan ingeniously adapted into a more abstract design proposal (Figure 4).
Figure 4. Taipei Fine Arts Museum, Kao Er-Pan, Taipei, 1983. Photography Taipei Fine Arts Museum.
Wu Kwang-Tyng: The triangular relationship between the United States, China, and Taiwan still maintains a certain geopolitical structure that informs our architecture. There is also a more explicit relationship with Japan in terms of architecture, which I believe was more implicit during the Cold War. So maybe now Japan’s relationship is starting to stand out. Many Japanese architects come to Taiwan to develop new businesses, and they do quite well. The same is true for American architects, though; so from this perspective, it is still basically a US-China-Taiwan relationship.
Cole Roskam: In the end, this is not a problem of history, but a problem of the future. What are the biggest future challenges and future obstacles for Taiwan's architecture?
Wang Chun-Hsiung: The 1990s was a crucial decade for Taiwan's architectural industry. The most significant transformations took place during this time. Many of today's young architects were either born during this period or were still in elementary school at the time. Their upbringing has instilled in them a remarkable sense of freedom and creativity in architecture, which is an invaluable and truly impressive quality.
In my time, the ideal career path for someone in the architecture profession was to establish a firm, so we had to create a machine to promote architectural practice. However, nowadays, most young architects no longer aspire to join or start traditional architectural firms. Instead, they tend to set up small workspaces similar to artist studios (atelier), where they work alongside a few assistants. The scale of their projects doesn’t necessarily need to be large, but they must maintain creative freedom. I think this shift is incredibly valuable, and it represents the greatest challenge we will face in the future, which is whether we can allow this atmosphere of free creative expression to continue developing.
Wu Kwang-Tyng: We have yearly public reviews of graduation design projects in Taiwan on a large scale, which are conducted through an exhibition and a live event. I think it has had a great impact on Taiwan's architectural education over the past decade, and helps to connect our architecture graduates with several places in Asia like Hong Kong, Singapore, Taiwan, and Japan. Taiwanese students have become much more internationalized in the past decade or so. When looking at the performance of students from Hong Kong, Singapore, and Japan, there is a lot of cross-pollination and exchange in learning.
Cole Roskam: Perhaps we can conclude by returning to the theme of everyday life we discussed earlier (see Part 1 of this article). You mention the need for creative freedom and the significance of public reviews of individual students’ design projects in Taiwan. Does emphasis on the individual designer’s creativity risk reproducing a certain romanticized image of the architect as an autonomous artist, particularly in light of what your curatorial work and research has illuminated with regards to the everyday impact of postwar Taiwanese architecture on people’s lives, experiences, and routines? To what extent could the design profession in Taiwan, and contemporary architectural discourse more generally, learn from the ways your exhibition positions architecture as a vital if often forgotten environment for the everyday?
Wu Kwang-Tyng: Taiwan's architectural development during the 1950s and 1970s was shaped by grand national narratives that framed design and construction as a clash between traditional and modern forms of architectural expression. Following the completion of the Republic of China Pavilion at the 1970 Osaka World Exposition in Japan, these architectural trends shifted toward a new cultural movement rooted in the influence of American aid, and a prioritization of economic development and the improvement of people’s lives. Everyday life concerns emerged in architectural discourse at the time, with a new generation of Taiwanese architects pursuing a so-called “local Modern” and “New Life” architecture that adapted architectural ideas from the West toward Taiwan's local lifestyle. To a certain extent, I think these shifts still resonate with practicing architects today.
Wang Chun-Hsiung: Ultimately, good architectural design stems from an understanding of human nature. This refers not only to an understanding of people's material and psychological needs and the respect that arises from this understanding, but also to an understanding of why people have these needs. The comprehensive understanding of these three elements is not an easy task, as it requires an interpretive response. In other words, there is no standard answer to this question; rather, it comes from the interaction between the architect, everyone involved in the construction process, and those who use the building. Since architectural design is an interpretation, it requires a free environment to achieve good results. At the same time, this also means that good architectural design is infused with social and cultural considerations, although these considerations are not necessarily expressed in an obvious way but are more often achieved through implicit and silent agreements. This is why public reviews are important. The purpose of reviews is not to judge right or wrong, but to freely express and comment publicly, seeking mutual understanding and interpretation. This allows architectural design to return to everyday life and architecture to return to its meaning as an object that people rely on for their lives, without romanticizing the image of architects. Taiwan's modern architectural experience after World War II was not a “reaction” to Western influence, but rather something created in the process of embracing modernization and actively seeking to change lifestyles. It cannot be denied that there was certainly a great deal of imitation, and we do not reject nor do we welcome external influences. However, external influences are not the whole picture; they are only a small part. What is most important is to see how people create life through architecture, and how architecture, in turn, influences people's lifestyles. Judging from the large number of visitors to the exhibition, the perspective we aimed to communicate through the work was not unfamiliar to the audience; it was simply that people had not often seen architectural exhibitions interpreted and presented from this particular angle. I think people were also pleased and surprised to discover that buildings they encounter in their daily lives—architecture that is often overlooked—could actually be considered so culturally rich and significant. Giving people an opportunity to explore architecture from this perspective, either through an exhibition or a public design review, and reconsider what architecture truly is, is invaluable.
Citation
Cole Roskam, Wang Chun-Hsiung, Wu Kwang-Tyng, “Curating ‘Modern Life’ and Architecture in Taiwan, Part 2,” PLATFORM, July 14, 2025.
