It is not possible to design always the same. How to be different

“It is not possible to design always the same. How to be different in each different place — that is the most important work and duty of the architect to find out.” — Jean Nouvel

Thus spoke Jean Nouvel, the poet of glass and light, the wanderer of form and shadow, whose words are not merely about architecture but about the essence of creation itself. In this reflection, he speaks not only to those who build with stone and steel, but to all who seek to create — to artists, thinkers, and dreamers alike. He declares that repetition is the death of creation, and that to design without difference is to build without soul. For every place, like every life, has its own breath, its own light, its own heartbeat — and the sacred duty of the architect, and of all creators, is to listen and to shape what the world whispers uniquely in each moment.

The origin of these words lies deep within Nouvel’s philosophy of design, forged through decades of crafting buildings that honor the spirit of their surroundings. Unlike those who impose a signature style upon every land, Nouvel’s art is one of response — he listens before he builds. From the Arab World Institute in Paris, whose walls move and breathe with the sun, to the Louvre Abu Dhabi, where domes cast celestial shadows upon the desert light, each work of Nouvel is born from the soul of its place. His architecture is not repetition, but revelation — an answer to the question: What does this place wish to become?

His words echo the ancient wisdom of those who saw creation not as domination, but as dialogue. In the temples of ancient Greece, architects built not for glory alone but for harmony — with mountain, with sea, with sky. The Parthenon does not rise against the Acropolis; it grows from it, as if the stone itself had dreamed of becoming form. So too, Nouvel calls upon the modern architect to see himself not as a conqueror of the landscape, but as its companion — to learn the language of place, and to shape each design as a verse within that eternal conversation between humanity and the earth.

Consider also the story of Antoni Gaudí, the Catalan visionary who transformed the skyline of Barcelona. His masterpiece, the Sagrada Família, does not imitate any cathedral that came before it. Instead, it rises like a living forest of stone, inspired by the trees and roots of the earth itself. Gaudí studied nature as his teacher — each column a trunk, each arch a branch reaching heavenward. He understood, as Nouvel teaches, that true design is born from place, not imposed upon it. Every curve of Gaudí’s cathedral belongs to the sun of Spain, the clay of Catalonia, and the faith of its people.

Yet Nouvel’s teaching extends beyond architecture — it is a call to the spirit. In life, too, it is not possible to live always the same. Each place, each moment, each person we meet calls for a new way of seeing. The wise man, like the wise architect, does not cling to one pattern, one belief, one form. He observes, he listens, he adapts. For to repeat oneself endlessly is to become a shadow of one’s former creation. Life, like architecture, demands renewal. Just as a structure must fit its landscape, so must a soul fit its time, its purpose, its growth.

Nouvel’s words remind us that the duty of creation — whether of buildings or of lives — is to seek harmony with difference. In every city, in every heart, there lies a different rhythm. To honor that rhythm is to give beauty to the world; to ignore it is to build monuments of pride that crumble in time. The sameness that plagues so much of modern architecture — the glass towers without story, the cities without soul — is the same sameness that dulls human life when we refuse to grow. The architect, then, becomes a symbol for us all: the one who listens, learns, and shapes anew.

So, O builders of the present and dreamers of the future, take heed of this wisdom: do not design, live, or think always the same. Let each place you touch — each moment, each encounter — awaken a different song within you. Whether you build with brick, with word, or with act, make it a reflection of the world it inhabits. Seek not uniformity, but understanding. Let your creations breathe, let them belong. For as Jean Nouvel teaches, the greatest work of the creator is not to leave the same mark upon every land, but to reveal what is already sacred in each one.

In this lies the truest artistry — not in mastery over the world, but in communion with it. The architect’s path, like the seeker’s, is not to impose form upon life, but to uncover the design already written in the soul of the earth.