Lost in translation.

Great exhibitions have long served as the laboratory of architectural experimentation, but is this still the case today? As ideas relating to the twenty-first century city emerge, with regeneration and urban stitching offering more appropriate strategies than those proposing a tabula rasa, does a masterplanned, purpose built, remote Expo site hold any relevance as a model for sustainable development? And as Architecture falls further behind the cutting edge of technical innovation, can Expos claim to hold any architectural significance? Aichi 2005, the first international Exposition of the twenty-first century, raises many complex questions.

Osaka 1970 should have been the world's last Expo. At least that was the opinion of the AR editor J. M. Richards' editorial in the August 1970 edition devoted to Asia's first international exposition. Richards' criticism looked beyond the specific, to focus more generally on the emerging pattern of international expositions; a pattern that he said was becoming more and more pointless. Ambiguities were increasingly blurring the boundaries between trade show and cultural exposition, and serious contributions to architecture and exhibition design were, in his view, compromised by attention-seeking gimmickry. The rivalry of individual pavilions had smothered Osaka's slogan, 'Harmony for Mankind', with the exposition representing little more than a collection of buildings, 'each trying to shout louder than its neighbour'.

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Despite Richard's criticism, however, which may have been premature, it should not be forgotten that Osaka 70 was Asia's first opportunity to stage a major international event, and was hugely successful. At a time when Japan did not have the global presence or cultural influence that it has today, Osaka 70 marked a critical moment in the nation's development, attracting an astonishing 64 million people in just six months.

Furthermore, with hindsight allowing us to place the event within a historic context, its architecture is now understood to have had a far more significant influence than Richards may ever have expected. Not only did it introduce the world to Japan's architectural godfathers--Tange, Kurokawa, and Kikutake (the original Metabolists who built structures that Archigram could only dream of)--but more significantly, perhaps, it inspired a home-grown generation to rise up and to demonstrate that the global influence of Japanese architecture would go well beyond the traditional motifs of bark roofs, tatami mats and shoji screens. So, while Europe (and Britain in particular) spent the subsequent two decades referencing Osaka's icons through the British High-Tech tradition (most apparent in the work of Nicholas Grimshaw--from early factories to his more recent inflatable space centre), the emerging Japanese generation led by Ando, Hasegawa, and Ito, took contemporary Japanese architecture in a wholly different direction; each with unique and distinctive work that firmly placed materials and techniques as servants to the poetics of space-making, unlike High-Tech that did the inverse.

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So, this year, as Expo returns to Japan 35 years later, what could we have hoped to expect? Surely Aichi 2005--heralded as the first Exposition of the twenty-first century--would offer an opportunity to do something equally heroic; to exhibit the work of its current generation and to take the opportunity to inspire the next? Would we see Ando, Hasegawa, and I to leading the way as their predecessors had done before them? Or, would the next generation--the Sejimas, the Bans, or even the fledgling Bow-Wows be given the chance to shine through? Apparently not. With political manoeuvring bypassing the potential input of Kuma and Kitagawara along the way, responsibility for the masterplan went back to Kikutake--the godfather and original architect of the 1970 Osaka Expo Tower. As a result, it seems the majority of Japan's leading contemporary architects lost interest. None of those interviewed seemed in the least bit engaged by the event, and those that didn't simply dismiss it out of hand were clearly disappointed and highly critical of it; both young and old alike.

Despite his personal success at Osaka 70, with his Takara Pavilion and the iconic Nakagin Capsule Tower  that followed, Kurokawa is among the critics; those who are suggesting the Expo has become obsolete, and that in its current form, architecture cannot hope to match the expression of innovation that resides more profitably in the invisible world of information technology. As reiterated by Tadao Ando, since there have been relatively few significant advances in the material nature of architecture since Osaka, current architectural shifts are subtle, and do not easily translate into the language of today's funfair expositions.

Today, the most significant cultural shifts are led by virtual frameworks, not physical ones. And, with a real-time 24/7 Expo site growing on the web, accessible to all, it should come as no surprise that the physical environment of recent events has been skin-deep, billboard showmanship. The contribution to the city also seems to have suffered as expositions no longer present relevant models of planning. With the times of tabula-rasa planning long since past, in European and Asian cities alike, the argument for using an Expo as a regeneration catalyst has become less convincing, with both Seville and London's Greenwich peninsula remaining desolate years after their launch party events. At best today's Expos are good day-trip fodder, and at worst, oversized, impossible to digest, corporate trade fairs. So, how should we judge the architecture of Aichi 2005?

When describing his contribution to Aichi 2005, Kiyonori Kikutake displays an infectiously youthful enthusiasm, and is clearly proud of his Global Loop; the elevated boardwalk that twists its way through the site. Eliminating topographical height differences, this sinuous spine acts as the principal point of orientation and gives visitors a foolproof route-plan. Pavilions are then grouped in six Global Commons around a central ocean--Asia, America, Mediterranean Europe, Europe, Africa, and Oceania and Souteast Asia--while a remote nature trail site nestles in a nearby forest, accessible by cable car. In response to Osaka's celebration of the mechanisms of the technology, Aichi offers a vision for the twenty-first century under a softer theme; 'Nature's Wisdom--building a new civilisation in harmony with the mechanisms of nature'. By addressing the consequences of scientific development and progress, and in response to changes in the economic and environmental climate, it focuses on pollution and sustainable development. As such the whole Expo site is intended to be reversible, so that once the festival period ends in September, the area can be returned to natural parkland; an idea that while being well intended is extremely hard to believe, particularly when the scale of the development and infrastructure is considered. Where will all the tarmac go? And, what purpose will the car parks and rail links serve for the future parkland?

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This being said, however, this year's event is significantly less ambitious than its predecessor, with the organising committee expecting a relatively low target figure of 16 million visitors in six months. The architectural aspirations also are more modest, arguably in response to the desire to attract poorer countries that may not traditionally be able to attend. To this end, in the shadow of the usual array of vulgar corporate pavilions--such as those built by Hitachi and Toyota--individual pavilion sites were offered to guest nations in the form of prefabricated exhibition hall modules; a series of 18 X 18 X 9m units clustered in groups of six, and shared according to each nation's specific requirements. Again, while such an inclusive ideology is extremely well intended, this decision severely limited the opportunity for each country to engage in any form of serious architectural experimentation. Aichi 2005 may well go down in architectural history as the year of the billboard, and may be seen by some as the least significant event for many years. But times have changed. Perhaps Aichi 2005 fits well with the emerging hypothesis that, in terms of architecture at least, the Expos are no longer the place for the avant-garde? Expos seem now to be more about interpretation, narrative environments and the intellectualisation of exhibition design; so perhaps the focus of our criticism should shift? Certainly as any time spent in the cities of Japan will reveal, today architectural experimentation is alive and active on the street, not in the laboratory, led by an emerging generation of architects who are beginning the process of repair and renewal from the bottom up.

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Aichi 2005 runs until 25 September 2005

For more information visit www.expo2005.or.jp

Colour photographs: Edmund Sumner/VIEW