Capsule Architecture

Being a post-sputnik child, we grew up with a especially tainted idea of the future. Part of our notion of the future was capsular in nature and another part, no doubt because of the cold war nuclear fear, was post-apocolyptic doom. Basically, we assumed earth would be destroyed by the stupidity of man at war with aliens like in H.G. Wells War of the Worlds and in order to survive, we'd be propelled into the dark outer space of the non-gravitational universe like 2001 A Space Odyssey. We would need pods, sachets of Tang, and life support-system modules to exist.

A nation with a more intimate knowledge of apocalypse cannot be found than Japan. Ravaged by atomic horror, after the 1950s, the Japanese seemed to embrace radical new ideas in architecture and urban design. One designed movement, that has been referred to as capsule architecture, manifest itself in the work of architect Kisko Kurokawa and his landmark Nakagin Capsule Tower in Shimbashi, Tokyo, Japan. Architectural tourists have pilgrimed to the upscale Ginza neighborhood to see this unique building of the Metabolic movement.

Kurokawa's modular tower was completed in 1972 and consisted of two concrete towers with steel frame and reinforced concrete shaft to which are attached pre-fabricated galvanized, rib enforced steel capsules by four high tension bolts. The capsules are about the size of a small Winnebago (2.3m x 3.8m x 2.1m or 7.5 ft x 11.5 ft x 6.8ft) designed to be easily replaceable. Stacked on top of each other, the capsules climb 13-stories and look like washing machines with their round windows and square-box repetition. The two steel shafts to which the modular units are attached also function as elevators to bring owners up to their abodes from the buildings lobby.

The features of these Metabolic pods include a built in rotary phone, a color TV, stereo radio tuner, numeric clock, built-in speakers and a reel-to-reel tape deck -- in the day when Nakagin was constructed all very high tech. And let's be fair, Kurokawa always imagined that due to the modular pre-fabricated factory construction and assembly of the pods that they would be redesigned, rebuilt and replaced periodically as technology advanced and the pod aged in need of repair.

The 100 square foot pre-fab unit feels very much like the interior cabin of a commercial aircraft or a closer to Nakagin reference the shinkansen or Japan's bullet train. All along one wall there is a series of storage cabinets, a desk, the built-in electronics. At the far end next to the single round window, is a double bed and on the other end of the 11.5 length is the door and a bathroom with sink, shower, and toilet all combined in a space roughly the size of a airliner lavatory.

When the building opened in the disco era of the 70s all 140 units sold within a month. Kurokawa imagined that the residences of his tower would be young energetic professionals living in the fast-paced city who'd spend long hours in the office, eat all their meals in Mochi, Soba and Sushi restaurants, and long evenings at the discotheque. However, many of the original buyers were corporate journeymen and commuting salarymen with larger homes and families further outside the city and simply needed a place to crash three or four nights a week

But the capsules haven't been replaced since they were orignally built and in a recent Architectural Record reported that the tower will be demolished. In a Dwell magazine essay by Tom Vanderbilt, he reported that the Nakagin Tower owners association had voted to tear down rather than repair the aging structure. One of the compelling reasons looming over Nakagin's fate was the asbestos used during the construction has condemned the entire structure to die.

Kurokawa died in 2007 but before his death campaigned to keep his architectural landmark from being consumed by the forces of urban renewal and Tokyo's rampant development engine. Kurokawa 's Sony Tower, also designed and built on the Metabolic modular capsular concept in 1976, was constructed with stainless steel materials rather than galvinized. Sony Tower in Osaka was brought down last year. The international heritage protection group Docomomo, have unsuccessfully pleaded for the United Nations' heritage arm to protect this landmark building.

In the Metabolic maestros own writings, the Buddhist Kurokawa expectantly wrote, "We used to consider things that could live forever to be beautiful. But this way of thinking has been exposed to be a lie. True beauty lies in things that die, things that change."