{"id":84375,"date":"2021-08-27T18:15:29","date_gmt":"2021-08-27T09:15:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/voyapon.com\/?p=84375"},"modified":"2022-11-25T16:33:23","modified_gmt":"2022-11-25T07:33:23","slug":"nakagin-capsule-tower-future-of-tokyo-futurist-icon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/voyapon.com\/nakagin-capsule-tower-future-of-tokyo-futurist-icon\/","title":{"rendered":"Nakagin Capsule Tower: No Future for Tokyo\u2019s Most Futurist Icon"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

It was impossible to avoid cyberpunk or sci-fi evocations while standing in front of the legendary Nakagin Capsule Tower<\/strong>. It was one of the Tokyo buildings that had ignited more passion in Japan and the rest of the world among architecture enthusiasts, not only for its unconventional aesthetics<\/strong> but also for the wealth of innovative approaches behind it. Its construction in 1972 based on architect Kisho Kurokawa’s radical design caused a sensation from the very first moment. It was one of the greatest banners of Metabolism architecture<\/strong> and a cultural icon in its own right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Unfortunately, that wasn\u2019t enough for its survival<\/a>. <\/strong>Demolition works finally started on April 12th and would continue over the span of 2022, exactly five decades after its inauguration.<\/p>\n\n\n

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The Nakagin Capsule Tower building in Tokyo was one of the greatest stalwarts of Metabolism architecture.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

Nakagin Capsule Tower: Of capsules and men<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Over the past 15 years, a handful of residents waged a quixotic crusade in which the cultural value of historical heritage was pitted against immediate economic gain.<\/strong> And as relentless as they were, the latter came victorious in the end. What was once a marvel of innovation and design met its demise, surviving amid economic and structural problems. But until the last moments, the residents kept on living here in the act of defiance and unconditional love for this building despite all the drawbacks. Such was the greater importance of what this building symbolized for them. Not to mention its pivotal role in Tokyo\u2019s postwar architectural history.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Japan in the 1950s and 1960s is a phoenix rising from the ashes<\/strong>. These are years of great cultural dynamism. Rapid economic growth brings with it massive migrations from the countryside to the big cities amidst profound social changes. The country is a blank canvas, a laboratory of ideas, and an open field of opportunities where a group of utopian mad lads took it upon themselves to change the world through new urbanism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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In 1972, the tower stood out on the city skyline as one of the tallest buildings in the area. Photo: Kisho Kurokawa<\/em> <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Today, only its unique structure distinguishes it from the other giants around it.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

In theory, the building’s 140 capsules were to be replaced every 20-25 years<\/strong>. Kurokawa had conceived the building as a metaphor for an organic structure with renovation and evolution capabilities. Each capsule consists of a tiny 10m2<\/sup> living space, whose furnishings were designed to optimize the small space as much as possible, including state-of-the-art appliances for the time. Self-contained components that could be modified or removed to suit the demands of professionals on the move. The capsules lacked a kitchen, reinforcing the idea that they were not intended to be permanent dwellings. Their facilities were more akin to something halfway between an aparthotel and a co-working space. Residents had room service and secretaries at their disposal and a cafeteria that used to be on the 2nd floor.<\/p>\n\n\n

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\"Interior
The interior of a capsule of the Nakagin Capsule Tower.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n
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\"Interior<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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One of the capsules was kept as close to its original condition as possible for guided tours.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

In practice, the concept execution ended up being more problematic. The tower’s inhabitants realized that in order to replace a single capsule, it was necessary to remove all the capsules on top of it. Coordinating something like this with the row neighbours proved to be so complicated that not a single capsule was renovated according to plan. As a result, lack of maintenance combined with the wear and tear of time turned the utopian dream into a nightmare<\/strong>. Moisture and leaks are frequent problems in all units. Since 2010, a serious failure in one of the pipes was impossible to repair for structural reasons. It left the building without access to hot water. After the 2011 earthquake, it was also necessary to cover the building with a safety mesh to protect pedestrians from parts that could fall into the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From an economic point of view, the high repair costs didn’t justify its survival.<\/strong> It’s estimated that the cost of renovating each capsule could’ve been as high as 10 million yen (about 75 thousand euros). Its location in Ginza also made the site a very attractive place for new real estate investments. The writings on the wall were there for everyone to see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\"Window
Save Nakagin could be read on one of the windows.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Scarce centimeters separate the capsules, making any construction work difficult. <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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\"Detail<\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

And yet there it kept beating the odds for far longer than most anticipated. It was supposed to be demolished in 2007<\/strong> after asbestos was detected in its structure, but it was saved ironically by the global financial crisis of 2007-2008. The company that was to handle its demolition went bankrupt. Since then, its status remained in a limbo of uncertainty, as residents and activists made as much noise as possible. A multitude of proposals was laid on the table while several projects were being carried out to try to prevent it from falling into oblivion.<\/p>\n\n\n

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The portrait of architect Kisho Kurokawa adorns the window of one of the capsules.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

What happened to Nakagin Capsule Tower?<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

During its last few years, around 40 capsules were still inhabited, while a similar number of others were being<\/strong> used as offices.<\/strong> Most of its users were artists or architects, but there were also professionals of all kinds. One of its residents, Tatsuyuki Maeda, is the head of the Nakagin Capsule Tower Preservation and Restoration Project<\/a><\/strong>, a collective and multidisciplinary effort dedicated to saving the building through proposals for reusing the spaces and marketing campaigns for the building’s recognition as a cultural heritage site. Maeda began acquiring capsules in 2010 and currently owns 15 of them, some of which he had rented to other residents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At times the end seemed near in 2018 when the Nakagin group sold the property management<\/strong> and grounds to a real estate fund that had clear intentions of recouping the investment. The 2020 Olympics were on the horizon and the Japanese capital was (even more) a hotbed of new construction, although there were also negotiations on the table with an unidentified foreign company that seemed interested in possibly retaining the building. The pandemic blew everything out of the water. That included Maeda’s hopes of presenting the building at an international architecture conference that was to have been held in Tokyo in September 2020, which would also have served as an impetus for its preservation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another of Nakagin Capsule Tower’s legacy conservation efforts was undertaken by the Nakagin Capsule Tower Building A606 Project<\/a><\/strong>, led by architect Akiko Ishimaru, who restored her capsule as if it was freshly made, including the operation of all the appliances. The capsule functioned as a shared office and occasionally would host guided tours in Japanese on demand. Once the building demolition was confirmed, the aim shifted to remove the capsule and preserve it for posterity at a yet-to-be-disclosed location. Ishimaru herself has been chronicling her efforts on her crowdfunding page<\/a>, such as becoming certified in asbestos removal in order to remove it as safely as possible. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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