Japanese Metabolism

via Wallpaper

Metabolism’s genesis as an architectural tool for social change was defined by the times. It was in the 1950s that the seeds of the movement were first planted amid the ashes of Japan’s widespread post-war urban annihilation and subsequent renaissance.

As Japan’s recovery journey gathered pace, a string of young architects in Tokyo – including Kisho Kurokawa, Fumihiko Maki, Kiyonori Kikutake – were deeply drawn to explorations of flexible, modular and organic urban design, with inspiration rooted in biology, technology and futurism.

Soon after, Japan was on the brink of enormous economic growth. A few years later, in 1964, Japan hosted the Tokyo Olympics and launched its first shinkansen bullet trains – a seminal moment that confirmed to the world its reinvention from war-hit nation to global leader. Added to the mix was a rapidly growing population – all combining to create the perfect conditions for questioning how to reorganise a fast-evolving urban society for the future.

At the same time, ideas of renewal and impermanence have also long been timelessly ingrained across traditional Japanese culture – from its Zen Buddhist philosophies and aesthetics to its ritual of rebuilding Ise-Jingu, one of Japan’s most important shrines, every 20 years.

1985 Godzilla desktop lighter

For some reason or other, I always wanted a desktop cigarette lighter (probably from seeing Sam Spade use one in THE MALTESE FALCON) but never got around to buying one. Until I found this beautiful little thing. And yeah, I may have quit smoking 13 years ago, but a.) I like being married, and b.) it's a GODZILLA cigarette lighter, which goes a long way towards soothing those 13 years of longing.

cute little godzilla desktop cigarette lighter
The grass may seem neater on the other side, but Japan's clutter tells a different story. It's one that reveals a far more complex and nuanced relationship with stuff, one that suggests minimalism and clutter aren't opposites, but two sides of the same coin. For the nation of Japan is filled with spaces that are as meticulously cluttered as minimalist ones are meticulously simplified. These packed places, which are every bit as charming as the emptied ones, force us to question our assumptions and worldviews. What if we've all been wrong about clutter?