Kurokawa attached the building with 140 removable capsules to promote modifications to the structure over time, theoretically improving its capacity to adjust to the rapidly changing conditions of the post-industrial society. When the building first opened in March of 1972, it was advertised in the media to signal "the dawn of the capsule age." At the time, Kurokawa had additional capsule projects planned in the coming years and predicted the mass production of these living units.
This prototype for a new lifestyle for the 21st Century ultimately proved to be an exception rather than the rule. The Nakagin Capsule Tower in fact became the last of its kind completed in the world. Furthermore, the building has never undergone the process of regeneration during the 40 years of existence. None of the original capsules have ever been replaced, even though Kurokawa intended them to sustain a lifespan of only 25 years.
"A reminder of a future that never came"
Tags: grim meathook future, retrocomputing, sprawl
That is so cool. The downside is having to disarm traps in each cube just to bring in a load of groceries.
I believe the rooms shift periodically, and the ones marked with powers of prime numbers are trapped.
For what it's worth, I believe the Contemporary Hotel at Disney World (the A-frame one) was built along similar lines. You were supposed to be able to pluck rooms out of the A-frame with a crane, take them somewhere to renovate them, and pop them back in when you finished. One teensy minor problem: They never tried removing/replacing modules, and now they're rusted or otherwise stuck in place and can't be removed.
I went digging, and seems unlikely. Would've been cool, though.
That's a great article. Thanks! It almost compensates for ruining a childhood belief.
No orange circles on the wall? Where am I supposed to put my hands during a police control? Do I just guess! This is anarchy!
Expecting to look back on the hip New Urbanist 150 square foot micro apartments with similar emotions in 30 years.