Nagakin Capsule Tower
5th September 2018
Think tiny capsules plugged into a tower where, by more or less a stretch of the arm, or by stepping a few paces back and forth you can reach everything. Alternatively, imagine a home where there is no place to hide, that is in essence what it must feel like living in one of Kisho Kurokawa’s capsules within the Nakagin Capsule Tower.
Designed to accommodate Monday to Friday ‘salarymen’ whose commute would be too far, each of the 132 capsules was designed to accommodate bed, bath and not much beyond. In 1972 this new building optimistically pointed the way forward to a new sustainable, recyclable future care of a 300 square foot pod, which curiously is the same area size as a traditional Japanese tea ceremony room. Each unit was designed to be plugged in and theoretically pulled out of one of the two the central cores.
It’s hard to grasp just how excited everyone was about the new capsule tower, an organic building deemed a perfect example of the Japanese Metabolist movement created by one of the founding members of the movement. The Metabolist movement manifesto was delivered in 1960 but it took almost a decade to put it into practice at Osaka’s Expo70. Kurokawa’s Capsule House was showcased in the Theme Pavilion as future housing. ‘The house was suspended from a space frame into the pavilion built with a window in the living room floor to view the ground below’
Two years later he translated that into Nakagin Capsule Tower and the press loved it, this was a real example of the future of architecture. Sadly the idea did not act as a trigger for similar projects, criticism of the building included the fact that the only organic element was in the hands of the architect, the tenants could change nothing. The building then suffered from a serious asbestos problem which meant the shutting down of the air conditioning system and there were some major issues with the water supply causing tenants to abandon their baths and use a shared shower unit located elsewhere in the building.
Whilst there is a litany of problems there is also a fabulous example of a different way of living. Entering the pod the first thing that strikes you is the huge window a few feet ahead of you, at the ‘far end’ of the pod. Think front loader washing machine. Look to the left and right everything is there for you to see but not in plain sight. If philosophically the building was organic then it makes perfect sense that the lacquered pinewood interior design should follow, every element neatly fixed and fitted, a cupboard whose door converts into a desk or dining table. A place for clothes of sufficient size for a few days clothing. A space for a rolled up futon. The bathroom is actually a joy, but not useful if you are into swinging cats. It seemed as though the whole thing was made out of one piece of moulded plastic. The futuristic-looking electrical equipment fitted neatly into a small customized unit which would sit happily on the set of any self-respecting retro sci-fi show on Netflix .
But weighing heavily is that every year the building is falling further into disrepair. The facade looks grim and grimy, it’s obvious that it needs a care plan. Today the tower is locked into a battle, not of its own making, in poor condition with land values soaring it’s at risk. Whilst there are a few owners who understand that the place must be preserved there are others (likely the majority) who feel that they’d like to cash in their chips and get out, not so easy because whilst the value of each unit has increased recently due to international interest, the sum in no way equates to purchasing another flat in the city. It cannot be considered for protection until it is at least 50 years old, a few years off, meanwhile whilst most conservationists see the tower of huge significance, the prevailing mood amongst owners is that it should be sold to a developer giving them money to live somewhere most hospitable.
Photo Credits: Howard Morris