Nakagin Capsule Tower in Ginza
PHOTO BY PHIL COUZENS
By Brett Bull
TOKYO —
In the first half of the 20th century, Tokyo was bitten by the
modernist bug. The violent upheavals seen in Western art,
literature, music and fashion found parallels over here—but it was
architecture that provided the most visible and lasting testament
to the changes underfoot.
Buildings like the Tokyo Central Post Office (1931) in
Marunouchi demonstrated the increasing influence of such Western
architects as Le Corbusier and concepts like Bauhaus. In the
decades following World War II, with industrialization suffocating
creativity, postmodernism came to the forefront. Experts considered
architect Minoru Takeyama’s colorful Ichibankan (1969) and
monochrome Nibankan (1970), situated in the nightlife quarter of
Kabukicho, to be the first examples of this new avant-garde
spirit.
Today, Ichibankan is completely closed, and Nibankan, whose
exterior is riddled with chipped paint and cracked concrete,
maintains only a first-floor restaurant in operation. Ownership
changed two years ago. During a meeting with the buildings’ present
owner, Sankei Hotel, a lodging operator that specializes in
business and love hotels, representatives of the company indicated
that the future use of the structures has not been decided.
Such a potential reprieve is rare, as the elimination of Japan’s
landmark properties becomes routine and calls for preservation are
crushed by developers’ wrecking balls.
The challenges facing preservationists are numerous.
Last October, entertainment company Shochiku announced that the
Kabuki-za theater in Ginza, Japan’s home for kabuki since it was
founded in 1889, will close next year and be reinstalled inside a
large office complex by 2013. Reconstructed twice, its 1924
incarnation incorporated a new style of non-burnable building
materials. The current five-decade-old building achieved tangible
cultural property status in 2002.
Shochiku said in an email statement that the Kabuki-za is an
aging structure that is susceptible to earthquakes. “Taking into
consideration that its facilities are not barrier-free, we decided
that it would be in the best interest of our customers for us to
rebuild the theater.”
In addition to the financial hurdles inherent in upgrading aging
mechanical and electrical systems, architects believe that
revisions to earthquake-proofing requirements within the Building
Standards Law in recent decades are also burdensome. “You have to
spend a lot of money to make a building seismically sound, and
there is no aid from the government to do that,” explains Jun
Mitsui, principal architect of JMA Architects in Meguro. “The owner
has to basically assume the financial burden himself.”
Financial incentives given to developers
Crucial, too, has been the financial incentive given to
developers. In 2002, then Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi passed
legislation that lifted regulations on zoning and building height
in exchange for the establishment of public parks or plazas on any
newly constructed properties. Often referred to as an “urban
renaissance,” the deregulation was intended to maintain Tokyo’s
competitive status with nearby metropolises Hong Kong, Shanghai and
Singapore.
“That was the stimulus to Japan’s economic upturn,” says Mitsui
of the economic expansion that took place in the middle of this
decade. “Property owners wanted to maximize their buildings’ floor
space because that is what makes more money.”
Non-property firms with robust real estate assets, like
Shochiku, have also been taking notice. Japan Post, which became a
pseudo-private entity two years ago, is in the process of
constructing a 200-meter-tall building on the site of the
78-year-old Tokyo Central Post Office on the Marunouchi side of
Tokyo station. The curved brick building will eventually
incorporate parts of the older structure’s exterior facade in the
new design. Last-ditch attempts to save the original building
resulted in Japan Post announcing that it will seek tangible
cultural property status for the property and retain more of the
structure than first planned.
Last year, film studio Toho acquired Kabukicho’s Koma Stadium
theater, a popular venue for enka and musical shows that dates back
to 1956. Toho also owns the adjacent Shinjuku Toho Kaikan and plans
to redevelop both plots. Publisher Kodansha’s Noma Dojo training
facility, established in 1925, was knocked down in late 2007 in
favor of a more modern complex.
“In Japan, the idea of scrap-and-build has been dominant for a
long time,” explains Kengo Kuma, a leading architect whose firm
designed the Suntory Museum of Art at Tokyo Midtown. “So there
hadn’t been much attention paid to the preservation of buildings.
The debate over the Tokyo Central Post Office, however, has
provided a good opportunity for the public to think carefully about
the preservation of old architecture.”
Many other preservation pushes have failed. The Sanshin Building
(1930), an eight-floor structure that overlooked Hibiya Park and
contained elaborate ceilings and columns, was demolished by
developer Mitsui Fudosan in 2007. The concrete Dojunkai apartments
were innovative housing structures—featuring trash chutes and gas
lines—upon their completion between 1924 and 1934 at 16 locations
in Tokyo and Yokohama. In 2003, the five-story Otsuka Women’s
Apartment House was demolished, and the Aoyama site was replaced
three years later by Tadao Ando’s concrete and glass Omotesando
Hills shopping center. Just two apartment blocks remain today.
Mitsui believes that as a solution to here-today-gone-tomorrow,
Tokyo needs to adopt master planning. “The formation of a master
plan will define such things as the height and use of the
building,” he says, adding that complications within private land
ownership and a lack of government impetus thus far have made such
a concept very difficult.
Yet the government does offer some support—albeit through a
tradeoff that benefits developers. In exchange for preservation of
its notable Mitsui Honkan (1929), Mitsui Fudosan was allowed to
develop a nearby site into the 39-floor Nihonbashi Mitsui Tower
(2005). The height of the new structure exceeded that permitted by
law, but Mitsui was allowed to transfer the unused air rights
(i.e., potential additional floor area) of the old building
following its preservation.
The Paris-based conservation group Docomomo International, which
works to preserve modern buildings, established a Japanese branch
in 2000. Its group of experts has designated over 135 local
structures as important. In addition to the remaining Dojunkai
units and the Tokyo Central Post Office, the list includes Frank
Lloyd Wright’s Myonichikan (1921), Tokyo Bunka Kaikan (1961) and
the Nakagin Capsule Tower (1972), the Kisho Kurokawa-designed
structure of stacked concrete residential modules.
Hiroyuki Suzuki, chairperson of Docomomo Japan and a professor
of architecture at Tokyo University, says that the group submits
appeals to landowners of listed buildings scheduled for demolition.
He sees some hope with regards to preservation, citing the
restoration of Tokyo Station’s red brick building, set to be
completed in 2013, as an example. “Progress is small to this
point,” he says, “but we will continue to make appeals against the
demolition of important works because it is essential we do
so.”
The group is now focusing its attention on buildings from the
1970s—a move probably too late for the Kenzo Tange-designed Hanae
Mori building (1977), the glass-walled Omotesando landmark that is
scheduled to be pulled down following the removal of its tenants
this year.
As to Ichibankan and Nibankan, Docomomo’s Suzuki says that the
group finds Takeyama’s work to be very significant. Yet an approach
and time frame for preservation of his buildings has not been
determined. “At Docomomo, we realize that there is a connection
between modernism and postmodernism that needs to be discussed,” he
explains.
Should the near future bring an end to the Kabukicho creations
of Takeyama, the man himself says says he would not be irritated,
knowing that the business is financially driven. He also looks at
Ise Jingu, a Shinto complex in Mie Prefecture whose buildings are
dismantled and rebuilt every 20 years in an effort to ensure a new
appearance. “I can’t really say if it is positive or negative,”
Takeyama explains. “They have been up for 40 years. That’s not too
bad. Maybe it is time.”