Shoshin

QUOTE

Marcel Proust once said…

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

(French novelist and literary critic)

CONCEPT

Shoshin

Shoshin is a Zen Buddhist concept meaning “beginner’s mind.” It refers to approaching a subject or experience with openness, eagerness, and a lack of preconceptions—even when studying at an advanced level.

Shoshin is not about ignorance; it’s about humility. It’s the mental posture of someone who knows that no matter how much they’ve learned, there is always more to see, feel, and understand.

This mindset unlocks creativity, improves learning, and prevents stagnation. When you let go of the belief that you already know, the world becomes a place of constant discovery.

STORY

Powerful … Paper?

In 1984, a 37-year-old carpenter from Japan applied to a competition for designers with no formal training—and stunned the world of modern architecture.

Shigeru Ban had no credentials that suggested greatness. He’d studied architecture, but his early career was unremarkable. What set him apart wasn’t what he knew—it was what he was willing to question. While the rest of the architectural world was obsessed with steel and concrete, Ban asked a simple question:

What if we could build lasting structures out of paper?

That question led him to develop a radical construction method using recycled cardboard tubes—the kind used in fabric rolls or shipping materials. Engineers laughed. Paper was for sketches, not shelters. But Ban approached the problem with Shoshin: he didn’t assume paper was useless; he asked what it might teach him if he listened.

He began building prototypes—pavilions, shelters, even bridges—using paper tubes treated with waterproof coatings. In 1995, after the devastating Kobe earthquake, Ban offered his services for free to design emergency shelters for the displaced. While governments and NGOs struggled to mobilize materials, Ban used what was available.

His structures were cheap, fast to assemble, and strong enough to endure the elements.

That same year, the United Nations called on him to build refugee shelters in Rwanda during the civil crisis. Once again, Ban turned to paper tubes—lightweight, recyclable, and easily shipped. His structures gave dignity to people in desperate conditions. “I like to build for the people who need help,” he later said, “not for the privileged.”

Architects began paying attention. In 2014, Ban won the Pritzker Architecture Prize, the highest honor in the field. The jury praised not just his technical innovation, but his humanism. He had done what few others dared: he saw old materials with new eyes.

In a field driven by prestige and permanence, Ban's work proved that greatness can come from humility, and that the best questions are the ones we are still willing to ask.