Why I Am an Architect in Black

Because Black Absorbs All Colors — and Carries Every Story

You might think I spend all my time immersed in buildings, information modeling, digital twins, open data, open-source initiatives, and automation—and you’d be mostly right.

But I also listen. To music. To the world. To the patterns between the patterns.

It started with a simple, powerful “why” — a question casually posed at Berlin Fashion Week by Daniel Dendra:

“Why do architects wear black?”

“I couldn’t help but notice: everyone experiments with bold colors and wild patterns… except the architects.”

Among the bold patterns and avant-garde designs, the architects stood quietly — in black.
Blending into the shadows like a well-detailed facade.

But maybe it’s not just a fashion choice.
Maybe it’s a reflection of the work we do — and the complexity we hold.
Like automating a building without erasing its history.
Or designing a digital twin that reflects not just data — but identity.

My mother still asks me why I always wear black.
Friends and colleagues joke that it’s the architect’s uniform.
And for years, I had no better answer than, “I just like it.”
But this is more than just a question about a wardrobe — it sent me down a path about design, complexity, the layers we carry… and three tunes I’ve been listening to for years.


As the Rolling Stones sang:

“I see a red door and I want it painted black..No colors anymore, I want them to turn black…”

Paint it Black

Sometimes black is a reaction. Sometimes it’s transformation. Sometimes it’s how we hold everything together without falling apart.


As Johnny Cash said:

“Until things are brighter, I’m the man in black.. I wear it for the poor and the beaten down…”

Man in Black

A quiet protest — not a trend, but a stance. A recognition that systems don’t serve everyone equally. That wearing black is a way of holding the weight of injustice while still working to build something brighter.



As Dolly Parton sang:

“My coat of many colors that my mama made for me… Made only from rags, but I wore it so proudly…

A Coat of Many Colors

And long before that, Joseph wore a coat of many colors — a symbol of love, identity, and vision. Misunderstood at the time, but deeply prophetic.

This isn’t about clothing. This is about what we choose to carry.

Some wear red. Some wear blue. Some wear patchwork.

I wear black. Not to hide from color — but because:

Black absorbs all colors. That’s why I wear black.


I was born in Greece, with cultural roots reaching from the Mediterranean to the Pacific. Raised in Japan and having lived around the world, I was shaped by a tapestry of perspectives — eastern and western, ancient and modern, structured and intuitive. Among contradictions. I was raised inside a coat of many textures — cultural, emotional, technical, spiritual.

In that way, I’m not unique. Many of us — especially those who call ourselves American — carry layers stitched from elsewhere. That’s not a weakness. It’s the essence.

As an architect, I was trained to bring opposing materials together — to create harmony from tension, and meaning from complexity.

These backgrounds are not random. They’re chosen. They are the stories we build with.

In an era where even color has become politicized, where every shade feels like a declaration — it’s heartbreaking. But that’s not the world I see. And it’s not the one I want to help build.

Black doesn’t cancel color. It carries it.

Architecture. Democracy. Identity. They’re all patchwork. And black? It allows all of it to exist.

This may feel like a departure from my usual posts about BIM, open data, digital twins, AI, and energy — but it isn’t.

It’s all connected. We’ve been talking about open systems, interoperability, and breaking out of closed loops — not just for software, but for people. For cities. For cultures. For governance.

What we’re designing isn’t just technical — it’s philosophical. Emotional. Human.

So before we dive into another week of transforming procurement models, shifting governance, and rewriting the rules of smart infrastructure, I’m taking a moment — to pause. To reflect.

And to say:

We may seem like one monolithic block of black — but we are texture, contradiction, story. The strongest systems are those that hold difference, not erase it.

This is a call not just to architects, but to anyone building the systems of tomorrow: let us proudly wear whatever color, code, culture, or complexity we carry — and build something greater together.

Let’s stitch something better together.

And to Daniel Dendra who asked in Berlin, “Why do architects wear black?” — thank you. That question opened more doors than you could have imagined.


What influences your design choices? How do you navigate complexity in your work and the world?

Join the discussion here.

The songs that shaped us — remains the same:

Peace.

Heiwa (平和)

Eirini (Ειρήνη)

Kimon Onuma, Fellow of the American Institute of Architects (FAIA)

Black and white photograph by my lifelong friend from Yokota High School, Robert Sebree, who knows a thing or two about color. For those interested in exploring Sebree’s work, his official website showcases a diverse portfolio, including his portraits of Johnny Cash and Dolly Parton.

Tapestry Background generated on ChatGPT/DALL-E by Kimon

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