Filip Dujardin's Fictional Buildings

http://www.filipdujardin.be/

The Nakagin Capsule Tower

From The New York Times
Future Vision Banished to the Past
By NICOLAI OUROUSSOFF
Published: July 6, 2009
TOKYO — How old does a building have to be before we appreciate its value? And when does its cultural importance trump practical considerations? Composed of 140 pods, the Nakagin Capsule Tower in Tokyo has fallen into disrepair, with leaks and maintenance problems. Those are the questions that instantly come to mind over the likely destruction of Kisho Kurokawa’s historic Nakagin Capsule Tower. A rare built example of Japanese Metabolism, a movement whose fantastic urban visions became emblems of the country’s postwar cultural resurgence, the 1972 Capsule Tower is in a decrepit state. Its residents, tired of living in squalid, cramped conditions, voted two years ago to demolish it and are now searching for a developer to replace it with a bigger, more modern tower. That the building is still standing has more to do with the current financial malaise than with an understanding of its historical worth. Yet for many of us who believe that the way we treat our cultural patrimony is a fair measure of how enlightened we are as a society, the building’s demolition would be a bitter loss. The Capsule Tower is not only gorgeous architecture; like all great buildings, it is the crystallization of a far-reaching cultural ideal. Its existence also stands as a powerful reminder of paths not taken, of the possibility of worlds shaped by different sets of values. Founded by a loose-knit group of architects at the end of the 1950s, the Metabolist movement sought to create flexible urban models for a rapidly changing society. Floating cities. Cities inspired by oil platforms. Buildings that resembled strands of DNA. Such proposals reflected Japan’s transformation from a rural to a modern society. But they also reflected more universal trends, like social dislocation and the fragmentation of the traditional family, influencing generations of architects from London to Moscow. Inside, each apartment is as compact as a space capsule. A wall of appliances and cabinets is built into one side, including a kitchen stove, a refrigerator, a television and a tape deck. A bathroom unit, about the size of an airplane lavatory, is set into an opposite corner. A big porthole window dominates the far end of the room, with a bed tucked underneath. Part of the design’s appeal is voyeuristic. The portholes evoke gigantic peepholes. Their enormous size, coupled with the small scale of the rooms, exposes the entire apartment to the city outside. Many of the midlevel units look directly onto an elevated freeway, so you are almost face to face with people in passing cars. (On my first visit there, a tenant told me that during rush hour, drivers stuck in traffic often point or wave at residents.) But the project’s lasting importance has more to do with its structural innovations, and how they reflect the Metabolists’ views on the evolution of cities. Each of the concrete capsules was assembled in a factory, including details like carpeting and bathroom fixtures. They were then shipped to the site and bolted, one by one, onto the concrete and steel cores that housed the building’s elevators, stairs and mechanical systems. In theory, more capsules could be plugged in or removed whenever needed. The idea was to create a completely flexible system, one that could be adapted to the needs of a fast-paced, constantly changing society. The building became a symbol of Japan’s technological ambitions, as well as of the increasingly nomadic existence of the white-collar worker. No one doubts how difficult it would be to revive that vision today. The building was never as flexible in reality as it was in theory: adding and removing the capsules was prohibitively expensive. And the capsule notion itself was obviously limited, since it didn’t account for the possibility of sharing space with others. It hasn’t helped, too, that the lack of regular maintenance has taken a severe toll on the structure — and on the few remaining tenants...
Continue reading:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/07/arts/design/07capsule.html?_r=1&hp=&pagewanted=all

House of the Future, 1957

Bas Princen Photography

http://www.vankranendonk.nl/artists/index.html

Visual Acoustics: The Modernism Of Julias Shulman

"Narrated by Dustin Hoffman, Visual Acoustics explores the monumental career of 98-year-old architectural photographer, Julius Shulman. Populating his photos with human models and striking landscapes, Shulman combined the organic with the synthetic, melding nature with revolutionary urban design. The resulting images helped to shape the careers of some of the greatest architects of the 20th Century, with Shulman documenting the work of Richard Neutra, Rudolph Schindler, Pierre Koenig, John Lautner, and many others.Taking its aesthetic cues from Shulman’s own sensual and nuanced photography, the film’s narrative is built from a blend of Shulman’s own images as well as in depth interviews..."

http://www.juliusshulmanfilm.com/

Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson

Above: The Farnsworth House

From Wikipedia: The Farnsworth House, designed and constructed by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe between 1945-51, is a one-room weekend retreat in a once-rural setting, located 55 miles (89 km) southwest of Chicago's downtown on a 60-acre (240,000 m2) estate site adjoining the Fox River south of the city of Plano, Illinois. The steel and glass house was commissioned by Dr. Edith Farnsworth, a prominent Chicago-based nephrologist, as a place where she could enjoy nature and engage in her hobbies, playing the violin, translating poetry, and enjoying nature. Mies created for her a 1,500-square-foot (140 m2) house that is widely recognized as an iconic masterpiece of modernist architecture. The home was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2006, after joining the National Register of Historic Places in 2004.[4] The house is currently operated as a house museum by the historic preservation group, Landmarks Illinois.
http://www.farnsworthhouse.org/




Above: The Glass House

From Wikipedia: The Glass House or Johnson house, built in 1949 in New Canaan, Connecticut, was designed by Philip Johnson as his own residence and is a masterpiece in the use of glass. It was an important and influential project for Johnson and his associate Richard Foster, and for modern architecture. The building is an essay in minimal structure, geometry, proportion, and the effects of transparency and reflection.
http://philipjohnsonglasshouse.org/