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Agents of Transformation and the "Death" of Urbanism Preeminence of the Decorated Shed Staging Uncertainty |
[3L4] UNVEILING THE HIDDEN ORDER.
The modern Japanese city has evolved with an emphasis on infrastructure, in a piecemeal, haphazard fashion. The methodical, modular implementation of the cell and its connecting circuit was given precedence over any "postcard image" that the urban fabric might generate out of the careful manipulation of building façades. Westerners therefore typically view the Japanese city as an ugly, chaotic organism, contrasting it with Paris or other ‘beautiful’ Western cities. To make matters worse, the Japanese seem to have an intuitive understanding of the circuit, based on the fact that streets are typically unnamed and that buildings are numbered based on the date they were constructed, as opposed to their location. What would seem a recipe for complete anarchy in the West, however, is actually a streamlined, efficiently-operating system of urban organization for the Japanese. How else would one explain Japan’s astonishing rise from the ashes of World War II to become a world superpower in two decades, or the incredible stability and tight control of the Japanese government? The question that many Westerners and even Japanese pose, then, is just how does the Japanese city work? The answer lies in Kelly’s explanation of the vivisystem and its fundamental properties, which I mentioned earlier.
Despite the implementation of the grid as the ordering mechanism in the first Japanese capitals, subsequent Japanese growth patterns have been irregular, asymmetrical, and diverse. Since the terms polarity, duality, dichotomy, and synergy do not suffice to describe these patterns, I will suggest the word dinergy, composed by György Doczi from the Greek words dia (across, through, opposite) and energy, to describe the over-riding organizational system, which is irregular yet harmonious.123 The pattern of the jori system is actually quite similar to that of the modular composition of traditional Japanese architectural plans. The plan of the Katsura Imperial Villa in Kyoto, for instance, "which is a free combination of diversely shaped and sized rooms, shows how the use of the modular tatami mats creates a rhythmic and harmonious unity and wholeness, without becoming monotonous or forced."124 While it is doubtful that the modern Japanese city possesses "harmonious unity" or "wholeness" in its outward appearance, the dinergic system which characterizes its modular, haphazard growth suggests connectivity and freedom of mobility within a tight network. Thus, the operations of the Japanese city are all intimately related within a dense, diverse, unfolding urban framework. 123Doczi, György, The Power of Limits (Boston: Shambala, 1981) p. 3 124Ibid., p. 125 Images: 1. Rail map of Nagoya, 2. Aerial of Japanese 'sprawl', 3. Aerial photo showing the Jori system, 4. Aerial photo showing the Jori system |
The particular
physical characteristics that define the modern Japanese city have many origins, a few of
which I will attempt to explain. The first Japanese capitals, Nara and later Kyoto,
possessed symmetrical, gridded plans, emulating Chinese city models. These cities were
laid out in a tabula rasa fashion, like Roman colonial cities, with the added
influence of feng shui. The second, and much more pervasive, type of Japanese city
plan developed during the feudal era, and consisted of a smaller settlement which radiated
concentrically from a central castle. The city of Edo, now Tokyo, developed in this
fashion. Like medieval European cities, feudal-era Japanese cities were tightly knit and
somewhat disorderly, owing to the breakdown of national control and the focus on regional
defense mechanisms. The patterns of growth, however, were distinctly Japanese, owing to
their particular systems of land allocation and architectural sensibilities.
Developed during the Taiho
Era (702), the systematic subdivision of land known as the jori system was an
allotment strategy aimed at the equitable distribution of rice fields. The widespread
establishment of the system indicated a rise in the agricultural population and an
economical approach to the cultivation of the Japanese countryside, which consists of
sparse, flat valleys surrounded by mountains. While this system generated a type of
modified grid, there is a distinct difference between the jori system and the Jeffersonian
grid in America. Because of Japan’s extremely limited area of arable land, framed
sharply by steep, mountainous terrain, the jori system was essentially a qualitative
strategy toward land compartmentalization; whereas the Jeffersonian grid
represented a quantitative method for land expansion. Because of this
primary difference, contemporary urban sprawl in Japan contrasts sharply with sprawl in
the U.S. Shun Watanabe describes Japanese sprawl with the metaphor of a silkworm, which
methodically chews up bits and pieces of the landscape in small increments; versus his
depiction of the American giant, who is stretched out lazily across a vast land area. 
Western city planners equate sprawl with residue and the inefficient or
improper use of land, like Lars Lerup’s dross, which consists of dead,
leftover holes in the urban fabric. There is no dross in Japan; there simply is no room
for it. The ‘countryside’ that Japanese friends have shown me I consider to be
urban; despite the presence of rice fields, it is tightly-compact and filled with a
diversity of structures, including houses, factories, shrines, shopping centers, and
driving ranges. The urban continuum in Japan, then, is a pervasive stim,
counter-balanced by other ‘holes’ in the form of rigid scheduling patterns (most
functions of downtown areas, including the subways, shut down around midnight, and curfews
are routinely implemented in company dormitories; both methods of providing much-needed
breathing room in an otherwise constant field of activity).
A Master's Thesis in Architecture at Rice University by Blaine Brownell. Copyright © 1998 by Blaine Brownell. All rights reserved. |
