Since my last post about the issue of storage and living space, it got me thinking more about the issue of minimal living space and minimalism and pod living. Or, more specifically, the Bauhaus idea of the existenzminimum -- the basic minimum living space required by humans, or subsistence dwellings.
Existenzminimum was first conceptualized in Germany, partly to address Germany's postwar housing shortage, and partly as one of the results of an architectural movement called the New Objectivity (German Neue Sachlichkeit) that emerged in the 1920s and 1930s. New Objectivity was a movement, which encompassed art and music as well, that arose in Germany as a reaction to (mostly as a rejection of) Romanticism and expressionism, thus resulting in a more straightforward and functional approach to building construction.
In the 1960s, the Japanese expanded upon that concept of minimal living space, and as often is the case when the Japanese adopt an idea, they didn't merely run with it, they taxied down the runway and took off with it. The result was the ingenious and controversial 'capsule living', or 'cockpit living'. When we think capsules now, it is usually the image of a capsule hotel that we first think of, but actually, the concept of capsule living was first proposed in the 60s and capsule hotels came later.
(I was utterly fascinated by capsule hotels when I first came across the concept; I saw it in a television show when I was much younger in fact, and I thought it was brilliant and fun. On my first trip to Japan, I just had to stay in one. It was a lot harder than I thought to find a capsule hotel, mostly because most are catered for the males, and because they were surprisingly expensive. I suppose I should write about that someday.)
It wasn't only the Japanese and Germans who were fascinated with the idea of a compact and pared-down living environment, for example, there are the WeeHouse (from the US, the land of suburbia, I found that pretty funny) and the Paris cube (France, obviously), to name just two. Wallpaper has a nice article. However, if I'm not mistaken, the Japanese capsules are the smallest (the Paris cube measures 3.6m x 3.6m), and unlike many other places, a large number of Tokyoites do live in, if not exactly a capsule, a miniscule space.
Just how small is small? The Nagakin Capsule Tower (中銀カプセルタワー, Nakagin Kapuseru Tawā), the world's first capsule architecture meant for actual use, was designed by Kisho Kurokawa and built in 1972 in the upmarket Ginza district of Tokyo. Composed of individual capsules of dimensions 2.3m x 3.8m x 2.1m, each prefabricated module contains, among other amenities, one circular window, a built-in bed and a bathroom unit. Most of its residents, however, did not really enjoy pod living and wanted out. Today, the Nakagin Capsule Tower is in a rather bad condition; the capsules are mostly rented out as mini-offices instead, and there have been calls to tear it down. Still, it was an interesting experiment. Photos.
Given those dimensions (2.3m x 3.8m x 2.1m), our current bachelor doesn't seem as small. I think, very approximately, it is 4.5m x 6m? I think most of the grouses by the residents of that Nagakin Capsule Tower, however, is not so much that the apartments are too tiny but that the units are poorly maintained. The prefab units were actually designed to be unclipped and replaced for regular maintenance, but that never happened. Personally, that is also my complaint with our current room. The actual space is ok, but the layout and furnishings could be better.
In the first place, why live in a small space, capsule living aside? A compelling reason is for environmental reasons. Suburbia is incredibly resource-wasteful. Not only that, I think there's something off with society's constant want to keep 'upgrading' to a bigger house; in some cases, for example with additions to the family, that would be necessary, but sometimes, a large opulent house is merely another expression of wealth and success. I think small can be beautiful, and that with a bit of design and planning, small living spaces can be very comfortable.
The trouble is, the reality of most small living units is that it is the poor who stays in them, and hence, it is not only the 'space' that is lacking but the amenities as well. Run-down buildings, cheap furnishings, poorly designed and generally undesirable. Well-appointed dwellings tend to be much more spacious, which leads to the thinking that 'good' living has to be 'spacious', but surely this need not be the case? The WeeHouse and similar projects showed that it is possible to living in a small but gorgeous space. (I only wish it wasn't so expensive and exclusive.) This blog article has nice photos of smart looking living capsules as well. Certainly, I hope to see more examples of existenzminimum.
Existenzminimum was first conceptualized in Germany, partly to address Germany's postwar housing shortage, and partly as one of the results of an architectural movement called the New Objectivity (German Neue Sachlichkeit) that emerged in the 1920s and 1930s. New Objectivity was a movement, which encompassed art and music as well, that arose in Germany as a reaction to (mostly as a rejection of) Romanticism and expressionism, thus resulting in a more straightforward and functional approach to building construction.
In the 1960s, the Japanese expanded upon that concept of minimal living space, and as often is the case when the Japanese adopt an idea, they didn't merely run with it, they taxied down the runway and took off with it. The result was the ingenious and controversial 'capsule living', or 'cockpit living'. When we think capsules now, it is usually the image of a capsule hotel that we first think of, but actually, the concept of capsule living was first proposed in the 60s and capsule hotels came later.
(I was utterly fascinated by capsule hotels when I first came across the concept; I saw it in a television show when I was much younger in fact, and I thought it was brilliant and fun. On my first trip to Japan, I just had to stay in one. It was a lot harder than I thought to find a capsule hotel, mostly because most are catered for the males, and because they were surprisingly expensive. I suppose I should write about that someday.)
It wasn't only the Japanese and Germans who were fascinated with the idea of a compact and pared-down living environment, for example, there are the WeeHouse (from the US, the land of suburbia, I found that pretty funny) and the Paris cube (France, obviously), to name just two. Wallpaper has a nice article. However, if I'm not mistaken, the Japanese capsules are the smallest (the Paris cube measures 3.6m x 3.6m), and unlike many other places, a large number of Tokyoites do live in, if not exactly a capsule, a miniscule space.
Just how small is small? The Nagakin Capsule Tower (中銀カプセルタワー, Nakagin Kapuseru Tawā), the world's first capsule architecture meant for actual use, was designed by Kisho Kurokawa and built in 1972 in the upmarket Ginza district of Tokyo. Composed of individual capsules of dimensions 2.3m x 3.8m x 2.1m, each prefabricated module contains, among other amenities, one circular window, a built-in bed and a bathroom unit. Most of its residents, however, did not really enjoy pod living and wanted out. Today, the Nakagin Capsule Tower is in a rather bad condition; the capsules are mostly rented out as mini-offices instead, and there have been calls to tear it down. Still, it was an interesting experiment. Photos.
Given those dimensions (2.3m x 3.8m x 2.1m), our current bachelor doesn't seem as small. I think, very approximately, it is 4.5m x 6m? I think most of the grouses by the residents of that Nagakin Capsule Tower, however, is not so much that the apartments are too tiny but that the units are poorly maintained. The prefab units were actually designed to be unclipped and replaced for regular maintenance, but that never happened. Personally, that is also my complaint with our current room. The actual space is ok, but the layout and furnishings could be better.
In the first place, why live in a small space, capsule living aside? A compelling reason is for environmental reasons. Suburbia is incredibly resource-wasteful. Not only that, I think there's something off with society's constant want to keep 'upgrading' to a bigger house; in some cases, for example with additions to the family, that would be necessary, but sometimes, a large opulent house is merely another expression of wealth and success. I think small can be beautiful, and that with a bit of design and planning, small living spaces can be very comfortable.
The trouble is, the reality of most small living units is that it is the poor who stays in them, and hence, it is not only the 'space' that is lacking but the amenities as well. Run-down buildings, cheap furnishings, poorly designed and generally undesirable. Well-appointed dwellings tend to be much more spacious, which leads to the thinking that 'good' living has to be 'spacious', but surely this need not be the case? The WeeHouse and similar projects showed that it is possible to living in a small but gorgeous space. (I only wish it wasn't so expensive and exclusive.) This blog article has nice photos of smart looking living capsules as well. Certainly, I hope to see more examples of existenzminimum.
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