The Tokai National Higher Education and Research System envisioned Common Nexus (ComoNe) as a commons of knowledge and innovation—a place for making and fostering connections between the university and the community, among people, and between the past and future. Our team was selected for the project through a competitive call for proposals held in 2021.
Accessible from the ground level and the subway, the facility is a gathering place not only for the students, faculty, and staff of Nagoya University and Gifu University but also for members of the local community, children, companies, artists—people from all walks of life, each with their own interests and thirst for learning. The goal was to create a “landscape of knowledge” where dialogue and inquiry arise naturally, and to establish an open environment that offers something more than conventional university spaces.
Prior to starting the design work, I stood in front of the Toyoda Auditorium, built in 1960 and designed by Fumihiko Maki, on Nagoya University’s Higashiyama Campus. Beyond the sloping lawn that spreads out from the auditorium lay the plaza designated for the project, framed gently by a row of camphor trees. Beyond that stood the library, and further still, the landscape stretched out toward the city of Nagoya and on to Gifu.
As I took in this scene, it occurred to me that the very openness of this plaza, which afforded ample space for large numbers of people to gather and each find their own comfortable nook, was perhaps the campus’s greatest architectural asset. Along with Maki’s strong axial vision extending from Toyoda Auditorium, I hoped to create a landscape in which the view from ComoNe’s rooftop plaza would embrace not only the auditorium itself but also the lawn that unfolds before it.
The building was conceived as a single-story structure enveloped by the greenery of the camphor trees, while many of its rooms and program spaces were placed underground as a measure to address the project’s environmental sustainability goals, including decarbonization.
In considering the relationships among the bus stop, the subway station, and the east–west alignment of Toyoda Auditorium and the library, we sought to make the architecture harmonize as much as possible with the ground plane. We also aimed to create an in-between zone where the humanities and the sciences—traditionally separated in a north–south arrangement—could overlap and interact more fluidly.
Inside the building, high sidelights—formed by a roof that seems to peel upward from the ground—allow dappled sunlight and breezes filtered through the camphor trees to reach even the underground spaces. The roof itself becomes a gently sloped, half-pipe-shaped lawn where students and local residents can socialize and relax.
The first floor and basement are laid out as a continuous, visually connected space, linked by a passage that provides direct access through to the subway entrance and the library. Throughout the plan, we inserted a series of sunken gardens in the roof, allowing light to penetrate deep into the interior. We sought to create a space where the flow of people is not confined to linear paths but rather intersects three-dimensionally, evoking the layered complexity and expansiveness of a city.
In the subterranean areas, the hall and the spaces around the grand staircase are venues for seminars, talks, and other events. Along the atrium corridor, researchers and artists display their work and engage in dialogue with visitors, and workshops and exchange programs and events are held almost daily. The facility also includes a digital fabrication studio and a gallery.
On the first floor, the learning commons, which is laid out in a maze-like fashion throughout the space, overlooks the central passage and is openly accessible to both students and local residents. Along the building’s outer edge, we created a number of veranda-like spaces facing the ground-level exterior, designed to accommodate a wide variety of activities. Sightlines and a sense of shared presence create a subtle continuity between the ground floor and the basement, and between the interior and exterior.
Ultimately, these unprogrammed, unassigned pockets of space become places for everyone—places that are both personal and collective, both claimed momentarily by individuals and belonging to no one. We sincerely hope this space— a commons where knowledge and creativity take shape day by day—will foster a sense of warmth and openness as a hub for co-creation, connection, and innovation.
