Undefined Potential: Moreau Kusunoki's Hiroko Kusunoki on Hand Drawing, Big Challenges, and the Subtle Elements That Shape Our Lives
Hiroko Kusunoki by Julien Lanoo.
By Julia Gamolina
Hiroko Kusunoki is co-founder and director of Moreau Kusunoki. She obtained an M.Arch/M.Eng. at Shibaura Institute of Technology in Tokyo in 2002, and an M.Arch (D.E.) at ENSA Paris-Belleville. Her career commenced at Shigeru Ban Architects in Tokyo, before establishing Moreau Kusunoki with Nicolas Moreau in 2011. As a co-director of Moreau Kusunoki, Hiroko gives conceptual clarity and powerful poetic narratives to projects by bringing forward the notion of ‘in-between’ among multiple focuses and through hand drawings.
At the heart of the practice’s work is a series of cultural and educational projects, including the award-winning proposal for the Guggenheim Helsinki, the Sciences Po (The Paris Institute of Political Studies) university campus in the center of Paris, completed in late 2021, the Powerhouse Parramatta Museum in Australia, which is envisioned to become one of the biggest cultural hubs in the wider Sydney (completion in 2025), and, most recently, the Centre Pompidou 2030. In her interview with Julia Gamolina, Hiroko talks about the evolving museum typology and the importance of its adjacent public spaces, and launching her own practice, advising those just starting their careers to find a firm that nurtures their development.
JG: Congratulations on Centre Pompidou 2030! We’re all very excited to see your take on the renovation, and would love to hear about what your plans with it are for 2025.
HK: The next decade looks really promising, especially as more attention is being given to designing resilient architecture for future generations. At the start of the competition, we came across a powerful statement from Richard Rogers and Renzo Piano that resonated deeply with us: “Every quarter of a century, Beaubourg should pause for a moment to rethink itself”*, embodying the idea that adaptability is essential to the beauty of life. This concept has become a kind of ‘DNA’ for us for the Centre Pompidou 2030 project. After nearly fifty years, this beloved museum deserves a moment of renewal, and we aim to refresh and recharge it for the next chapter.
Looking forward to 2025, our hope is to finalize a core vision by then, while also keeping some flexibility to adapt the space based on the evolving needs of future users. On a personal note, the timing of this project overlaps with the early years of my daughter’s life, which makes it even more significant for me. I want to bring her to Centre Pompidou as often as possible before the work starts, especially since she’ll be growing up with this next generation of design and technology. We are also starting a couple of new projects in Japan as well, which is especially meaningful to me as after more than fifteen years away, I’m looking forward to reconnecting with my home country.
Centre Pompidou Pole Commercial Terrasse. Courtesy of Moreau Kusunoki in association with Frida Escobedo Studio.
Centre Pompidou Mezzanine. Courtesy of Moreau Kusunoki in association with Frida Escobedo Studio.
Centre Pompidou. Axonometric. Courtesy of Moreau Kusunoki.
Now let’s go back a little bit — tell me about why you studied architecture, and how you chose where you studied architecture.
My path to architecture was less about a preconceived career vision and more about following what I enjoyed: hand drawing. My high school offered elective classes once a week, and I selected the architecture class which was led by an actual architect. I could see the life of an architect, which pleased me very much. My choice of school was not driven by the desire to learn from the best, but rather to carve out space — both tangible and intangible — during my seven years of study. It was a search for room to breathe, to stretch, not just through textbooks, but in other, quieter ways.
I feel like we don’t talk about hand drawing much anymore, and this is still critical to your practice today, which is so refreshing. Tell me more about your approach?
Drawing has always been a fundamental part of my process, since it’s about capturing ideas, especially when working in multicultural settings where language can be a barrier. Drawing becomes a shared language — a way to communicate and explore ideas in a more fluid, interpretive way. Through hand drawings, we create narratives. Rather than depicting a realistic image, which would only focus on the one, best instant of a project’s life, we interpret the program in black and white — an analog drawing, which invites a slow understanding of the project. It provides a contemplative moment that’s neither definitive nor directional.
I love this, and am realizing how much I’ve missed drawing myself. You’re inspiring me to get back to it! On another note, how did you end up in France after your upbringing and school in Japan?
During my studies, I had a chance to go on an exchange program, which totally changed my career path. I hadn’t planned on coming to France — originally, I wanted to go to the U.S., but the exchange led me to Paris instead, a decision that wasn’t strategic but felt right in the moment. In hindsight, I realize that this unplanned approach allowed me to develop my own way of measuring the importance of opportunities. Instead of following a standardized or optimized path, I learned to value experiences based on how they fit with my personal goals and instincts.
“By placing the public and public space at the core of our conceptions, we aim at creating a coherent, resilient architecture, whose beauty derives from the open, undefined potential.”
How did Moreau Kusunoki then come about?
I didn’t want to keep working for someone else indefinitely. Nicolas had the unique experience of stepping into a CEO role for Kengo Kuma & Associates in France at just age twenty-seven, which gave us a perspective we might not have gained otherwise. This early opportunity allowed us to envision taking on larger projects — things we might not have thought possible at such a young age. Normally, at that stage, tackling something as ambitious as a cultural facility within the public sector would have seemed out of reach. But that was the only type of architecture we really knew and were interested in pursuing.
So, we set a clear goal: to focus on cultural projects, working with trusted partners we’d connected with during our time at Shigeru Ban, Kuma, and Sejima’s studios. Launching our own practice was both exciting and daunting, especially as it was my first time working directly with Nicolas. The challenges were real, but we had a solid vision and a strong team, and that made all the difference. I consider my design approach to be quite radical, with Nicolas contributing a quality of resilience to the overall design. Our work as architects is very much about giving space to it’s true users: the number of people utilizing the public space at the Pompidou Center far exceeds those visiting the museum, for example. By placing the public and public space at the core of our conceptions, we aim at creating a coherent, resilient architecture, whose beauty derives from the open, undefined potential.
Other than Centre Pompidou, what else are you focused on for 2025?
Our latest ongoing project, the Powerhouse Parramatta Museum, is a significant public endeavor and is on an entirely new scale for us — both in terms of the building’s physical scale and its geographical reach. Quite early on in the process, we understood that the team behind the Powerhouse Museum and its director Lisa Havillah had insufflated a strong and ambitious vision. There’s no permanent collection and the building is intended to serve as a place for the community, to foster new collective narratives and meanings.
Designing for the community on such a meaningful site was very inspiring for us, and we designed the Powerhouse Parramatta museum to be not only strong and functional, but also, porous and open. We thought about captivating all senses — engaging sights, tactility, noises, smells and tastes, recalling distant memories from the past and creating new collective ones for the future. For anyone reading along, I’d encourage them to keep an eye on Powerhouse and the impact that Lisa and her team are making. Nicolas and I have poured our energy into this, pushing ourselves and expanding our own boundaries. Now, as we approach 2025, it’s a mix of excitement, nerves and joy. There’s a lot of complexity, but also a lot of pride in seeing it all come together.
Powerhouse Parramatta Rendering. Courtesy Moreau Kusunoki.
Powerhouse Parramatta, Hand Drawing. Courtesy Moreau Kusunoki.
Powerhouse First A Lift. Photography by Zan Wimberly, Courtesy of Powerhouse.
Looking back at it all, what have been the biggest challenges? How did you both manage through perceived disappointments or setbacks?
Looking back, the Guggenheim Helsinki project was definitely one of our biggest challenges, and probably our biggest disappointment, too. Winning the competition was incredible, such a high point, and we poured everything into that project. Then, to have it cancelled was like falling from the peak of a mountain. I still remember the week it happened. It was during the U.S. presidential election, and we were at Cornell University, giving a talk on campus. There was a lot of chaos and noise around us, and our lecture that night felt heavy, almost like the end of a chapter. A few days later, the Guggenheim Helsinki was cancelled.
In hindsight, maybe it had always been a bit of an idealized vision, existing only in its imagined state — untouched by budget constraints, building codes, or practical limitations. That’s part of why it holds this pure, almost iconic place for us. But the experience also made us realize how much we love big challenges. It’s a paradox, really: without challenges, there’s no risk of disappointment, but then you miss the thrill of aiming high. We’re constantly referring back to the Guggenheim Helsinki in our work because it captured who we were at that time. In a way, the project has stayed ‘untouched’— a concept that was never compromised by reality.
What have you also learned in the last six months?
I can sense a quiet shift, an unfolding of change and moments of introspection that have slowly reshaped my way of seeing the world. The most defining moment was the birth of my child, a new life that has subtly, yet irrevocably, shifted my perspective. Each day now, I sense the world differently: my vision of society, the way I measure the future. It all feels new, recast through the lens of parenthood — fragile yet full of promise.
“Our goal is not to make already dominant values louder but rather to offer a counterbalance that emphasizes less acknowledged but essential qualities.”
Who are you admiring now and why?
I truly admire people who bring warmth to those around them, creating a sense of empathy and kindness that transforms social spaces. Having someone like that in your life — whether they’re a family member, a friend, or even a thoughtful collaborator — can completely shift your perspective on the world, making society feel like a kinder, more welcoming place.
When we’re surrounded by such kindness, it gives others the confidence to dream bigger and be braver, allowing them to take on projects or ideas they may not have felt possible otherwise. I feel lucky to have experienced that kind of influence; it reminds me that even amid struggles, there’s room for light, patience and gentleness.
What is the impact you’d like to have on the world? What is your core mission? And, what does success in that look like to you?
The impact I want to have on the world is to help people see beauty and appreciate values that are often overlooked — the quiet, subtle elements that shape our lives in profound yet understated ways. I think these qualities are often overshadowed by the louder, more forceful aspects of our culture, which has historically prioritized strength, speed and boldness, especially throughout the 20th century and even today. My work and perspective are rooted in valuing the things that are less obvious but fundamentally significant. Through our projects, and our Mindmap series, we’re striving to shine a light on these less recognized aspects.
Museums, for instance, give us a unique freedom to explore these ideas, as they provide an environment with less pressure to conform to mainstream trends. In fields like architecture, the landscape is often shaped by the need to meet competitive briefs or mass media demands that favor the loudest and most dominant designs. This mentality makes it challenging to promote a different set of values, which is where I see architecture’s role as both a challenge and a mission. As architects, we’re often tasked with translating the intentions, desires, and visions of our clients — sometimes using public funds, other times private investments — into physical spaces. Our goal is not to make already dominant values louder but rather to offer a counterbalance that emphasizes less acknowledged but essential qualities.
Guggenheim Helsinki Rendering. Courtesy of Moreau Kusunoki.
Guggenheim Helsinki Axonometric. Courtesy of Moreau Kusunoki.
Finally, what advice do you have for those starting their career? Would your advice be any different for women?
A good working environment is crucial — it shapes not only career quality but overall quality of life. It’s not just about who you work for and with, but about who you are within that space. For women, we should be informed and better prepared for the biological changes we experience, because such assumptions surely affect your choice of career, your choice of your work environment. In this respect, this is one of many things that society should learn very quickly. I believe that the right environment cultivates rich diversity in the variety of perspectives and experiences around you. It’s about finding a space that genuinely fosters growth and inspiration.
One thing I can confidently say is that Nicolas and I recognize our limitations; we’re not experts in everything, and there are many areas where we need improvement. We have immense respect for our collaborators, who can perform far better than we can in certain aspects. We encourage them to take the lead in these situations because we genuinely want to be inspired by their expertise. This mutual stimulation is crucial. We prefer to trust our collaborators and allow them the freedom to explore ideas — something I didn’t have when I worked in someone else’s office. In those settings, everything felt a bit dictated, which was helpful early in my career when I needed guidance. But as I progressed, I craved the independence to build my confidence, which ultimately led us to open our own studio. Ultimately, architecture is a collective effort — it’s never the work of a single architect but rather a team that includes engineers, clients, and other specialists involved in the process.
* 1968-1971, Live Centre of Information, de Pompidou à Beaubourg, Boris Hamzeian, Actar Publishers, en collaboration avec le Centre Pompidou, Prix spécial de thèse de l’Institut Georges Pompidou 2022.