Architecture, watercolors, sculpture, calligraphy. Tai Chi Chuan, Bagua Chuan, Hsing Yi Chuan. Cooking, golf, teaching--The list goes on. Your average, everyday type (like me) looks at such a list and shudders. Spare time is reserved for naps, or maybe a movie. As for martial arts, one style is more than I can handle.

Henry Look, of San Francisco, California, is not your average, everyday type. At 66 years of age, Look is a father of three and a successful architect who numbers 26 Benihana restaurants--including the first--among his designs. He is also highly respected as a master of the three best-known internal arts of kung fu.

Whether giving an impromptu lesson in calligraphy, explaining how Chinese coffins are constructed, or describing his own twist on a complicated recipe, Look gives the impression of a boundless enthusiasm for life coupled with a perfectionist's eye for detail.

Such a combination can lead to high blood pressure at the least, and Look was not immune. He first took up Tai Chi in an attempt to relieve the stress of a demanding job. Now, twenty-five years later, Look has found that the sense of balance gained from his study of the martial arts echoes through every aspect of his life, from his architecture to his cooking.

But more than the physical balance, it is the mental balance required--a "philosophy of keeping oneself healthy" as Look terms it--that shapes his life.

Even before Look began to study the the internal arts, martial arts in general played an almost subliminal role in his life. Born in Sacramento, California, in 1927, Look moved at the age of two with his mother, father, brother and four sisters to Guangdong, then known as Canton. They stayed for ten very formative years.

"I was a little devil when I was growing up," says Look. "Every day, after school, I was always looking for some adventure." He usually found one. Whether it was catching crickets for cricket fights, climbing the lychee trees in his grandfather's orchard to raid birds' nests, or making his own bamboo popguns and kites of paper glued together with rice paste, Look managed to get into--and out of--almost every scrape an intelligent boy can find.

His martial arts career almost started during his stay in China. At that time, "everybody wanted to learn kung fu," says Look. Two uncles, both excellent martial artists, taught him and his brother some empty-hand techniques and staff work. Look is slightly embarrassed to admit he doesn't remember the name of the style his uncles taught.

In 1937, Japan invaded China. Look's mother, by then a widow, decided that the Japanese posed too great a threat to her family, and moved back to Sacramento. At the age of 12, Look began his life in America again.

Busy with western schools and western sports such as soccer and track, Look gradually lost the skills his uncles had taught him, but the martial arts did not vanish completely from his life. During a three-year stint in the Marines after high school, he studied boxing--as well as a few other subjects. "I learned most of my English in the Marines," says Look. "Mostly swearing."

Boxing, and even a position as a judo coach, still did not add up to martial arts in Look's mind. "I never gave a thought that it had anything to do with martial arts." College followed Look's service as a Marine, and the martial arts once again faded from his life. He attended both the San Francisco City College and the University of California at Berkeley, where he earned his B.A. in Architecture in 1954. In 1958, Look began his career as an architect.

By 1968, stress was taking a heavy toll. Ulcers, migraines, allergies--a slew of stress-related illnesses plagued Look. During a trip to Hong Kong, a relative suggested he take up Tai Chi. Upon his return to the Bay Area, Look began to study Tai Chi with Master Kuo Lien Ying.

Whether it was the style, the teacher, or the fact that Look himself was ready to commit to serious study of both the physical and mental aspects of kung fu, he had finally found the martial art that was to become a part of his life.

After several years studying with Master Kuo, who also taught him Bagua, Look also began travelling to Hong Kong to study Hsing Yi with Master Han. "The philosophies (of the three styles) are similar, actually," says Look.

All internal styles teach practitioners to develop strength "from the inside out", while external styles teach the development of strength "from the outside in." In fact, Look likens the martial artist who studies only an external style to a Thermos bottle. "One hit -- the outside stays intact, but the inside shatters," he explains.

Look continues to focus on internal training. In 1981, he was instrumental in bringing Professor Yu, a chi kung master, from mainland China to the United States to teach chi kung.

The concept of balance continues to play an important role in his life: the balance between business and family, work and health. Perhaps the most delicate balancing act in which he is engaged is one that he has been performing successfully since the age of 12--balancing East and West.

"Because of my age level, I understand both cultures," says Look. Instead of denying either of the cultures in which he was raised, Look tries to bring the best of both to his life and his arts. He believes strongly in the eastern tradition of respect for one's elders and one's teachers, and did not feel free to begin teaching until all three of his masters had passed away. Then, with western ingenuity, he removed the drafting tables from a large room at his architecture firm, lined the room with mirrors, and opened up a studio.

"I've got one drafting table in the conference room," says Look, but he hopes to phase out architecture completely and concentrate on teaching the martial arts.

Occasionally, his ability to unite East and West brings unexpected rewards, as it did at the first Tat-Mau Wong Full Contact Tournament, held in San Francisco last March. During a planning session for the tournament, discussion turned to who would be chosen for the honor of opening the tournament.

"We were having dim sum together, and I said, 'How would you like to have a movie star?'" Look recalls. The movie star he was referring to was John Saxon, who had contacted him about studying Tai Chi.

Sifu Tat-Mau Wong, who was sponsoring the tournament, would most certainly like to have a movie star, and arrangements were made. One of Saxon's duties was to awaken a sleeping lion before the opening lion dance--a ritual with which he was not familiar. Look came to the rescue.

"I got a Xeroxed copy of a lion head and put red dots on the forehead, the eyes, the nose, the ears," he says, using his own face as a model, "and I numbered them." Look then sent the instructions to Saxon, giving him time to "learn his lines," so to speak. During the actual ceremony, Look accompanied Saxon up to the lion head and prompted him if the brush strayed too far off the mark.

The ceremony was a success. "Saxon had a lot of fun," says Look.

However, there is a yin to every yang. Look freely acknowledges the aspects of both cultures that he doesn't want to bring to his work. For example, "I taught a half-day seminar in Yi Chuan," says Look. "Later on, I get a call from a friend." His friend told him that one of the seminar participants had decided--on the strength of a half-day seminar--to add Yi Chuan to the list of styles he was "qualified" to teach.

This is quite different from China, where, Look says, a student will not even ask permission to begin teaching. He waits until his master tells him he is qualified. "Here, though, people think that if they pay for lessons, the knowledge is theirs to do with as they wish."

As a result, says Look, masters are reluctant to share their knowledge, because incompetence on the part of the student reflects badly on the master. Look himself would not even consider teaching until all of his masters had passed away. "I respect all my sifus," he says.

Problems such as this probably contribute to a persistent prejudice among eastern martial artists. "There is a saying about martial artists," says Look. "If they speak English, their kung fu is no good. If they don't speak English, their kung fu is good." That's one saying he takes pleasure in proving wrong.

According to Look, any problems that might exist with western martial artists are not due to a lack of ability, dedication, or desire. "It's not like in the old days," he says, when a student could literally dedicate his life to studying the martial arts. Economic necessity, if nothing else, makes it almost impossible for a student to study all aspects of a style. "In this country, you don't really get a chance to do it," says Look.

Not even Look has had a chance to study the healing arts. "I wish I had gone into it," he says. "It's all related....When you break somebody's arm, you'd better be able to mend it."

If there is one thought Look wants to leave with his students, one lesson he wants them to learn, it is a simple one.

"Practice," says Look. "The only secret ingredient is practice." Excellence in any endeavor, whether art, architecture, kung fu, or cooking, "doesn't come overnight...it takes time to acquire it."

In the end, all effort, all dedication, all sacrifice lead toward one goal--in life, as well as in kung fu. "To try to achieve a higher level," says Look. "Sometimes I wonder how I could ever achieve to the level of my teachers."

Through practice, of course. And few people practice harder--at life, as well as at kung fu.