Though early modernists did plenty to shape the way we make our buildings, the stripped-down, just-the-materials-ma’am approach they pioneered could be downright hostile to ornamentation of any kind–—including, at times, a simple coat of paint (what color to paint a glass house anyway?). The postmodernists brought color back to center stage, occasionally to garish effect, and an increasing palette of materials makes it far easier for contemporary architects to incorporate color into their work–—if they dare to break with Meier white and Miesian black, that is.

British architect Will Alsop, of SMC Alsop, is one who dares. Noted as often for his projects that don’t get built–—architecture tourists the world over mourned the loss of the now-moribund Fourth Grace he planned for Liverpool–—as those that do, adventurous Mr. Alsop is no stranger to purple stilts, or vibrant daubs of pink at the windows like some gaudy eyeshadow, or, in the case of his Stirling Prize–winning Peckham Library in London, a rather fey shade of turquoise. We spoke not long after the unveiling of Alsop’s first American project–—an apartment complex in swirling pastels in Yonkers, New York–—about his painterly use of color, his peers’ lack thereof, and the Stateside reception of this former enfant terrible from across the pond.

If I walk through an English meadow in spring, I see vibrant yellows and poppies of the most amazing gold. In the natural environment there are so many colors. I have never understood why, from let’s say the 1930s onward, the use of color in modern architecture has been frowned upon. Here in London, on a gray day like this one, why would I want to look at a gray building?

If you go back to more historical periods, buildings were very brightly colored. For example, Tudor buildings were quite colorful, particularly on the inside. Pre-revolutionary Moscow had lots of color. Today there is a vast array of materials that embody all different colors. In the past you may have had to rely on paint, but today that just isn’t so. So to me designing without color is rather like boxing with one arm behind your back.

You can lay some of this aversion at the feet of the modernist movement, whatever that means, but city planners and developers are guilty too. There’s this assumption that people don’t like color, and it’s simply not true. Withmy buildings it’s not some sort of willful use of color–—it becomes a bit of a habit, really.

They say that modernists rediscovered white, and that’s true. But now the absence of color has become a kind of style, and I’m very nervous about the word “style.” I don’t want to have one. I find that having a style can box you in, and I want to be free to explore and move about.

I’ve never marketed myself as a green architect. Generally speaking, any self-respecting architect should be doing their bit with regards to the environment. It’s really a contract you’ve got with the environment. You go as green as you can, and the truth is we could be better than we have [been]. But now I’m seriously considering hiring a couple of really good young engineers, because they’re the ones that can make green happen–—often better than architects can.

I want to retain as much of the original building as possible, but one of the problems is that a third of the thing is sitting in the Hudson. And though I love the old chimneys, their structure is just rotted out. We want the two towers to be more than just blocks of apartments. There will be a gym, and a marketplace. But mostly we want for the people of Yonkers to have access to the Hudson River, something that they haven’t got now. Another element I like, which really has had nothing to do with me, is that there’s a rail station just behind the apartments that takes you straight into downtown Manhattan.

As for the response, we unveiled the plans at the Hudson River Museum, and those who hated it were kind enough to keep quiet. I had a minister come up to me and say that it was the best thing that’s happened to Yonkers and that he’s praying it all goes through. I’ve found that people either really love or really hate my buildings. And that’s fine with me. The last thing we want is to create an air of indifference, because then you’ve succeeded in making just another gray building, which the world just doesn’t need.

I like that word “playful.” If you’d said it to me 35 years ago, I’d have likely taken it as a big insult and hit you. The biggest threat to Western European and North American life is a bit of risk. And we want that. The rest is boredom. Buildings should express a sense of wonder and joy. There’s a reason I’m not an accountant or a lawyer who deals in doom and gloom. Architects should deal in joy and delight.

I think it’s also because I have an openness to different materials and colors. If I had a really strict view of what architecture should be, which I used to, then it wouldn’t be nearly as creative or fun. You just have to broaden the debate. And I do that by talking with people and finding out what they want. A pair of good ears is a great tool–—one that a lot of architects don’t use.