Sanderling Beach Club, Photograph by Francis Dzikowski, Archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.. Image via the Paul Rudolph Institute of Modern Architecture, under policy of fair use
When Kisho Kurokawa designed his now iconic Nakagin Capsule Tower in 1972, the structure was meant to represent the core principles of Metabolism, experimenting with ideas of growth and change borrowed from biological processes. The emerging style in postwar Japan aimed to create buildings and megastructures that emulate living organisms that can evolve, expand, contract, and adapt to their changing conditions. Following this concept, the Nakagin tower was composed of 140 identical cell-like capsule units, each individually bolted to the two central shafts. The capsules were intended to be replaced and upgraded every 25 years, allowing for flexibility and mutation. The innovation proved to be impractical, however. Almost 50 years after its construction, the tower was demolished, but not in its entirety. A total of 23 capsules were saved and removed from the building to be given a new life. Now, the capsules are scattered around the world, continuing to represent Metabolist ideals in unexpected ways.
Courtesy of The United States Department of Housing and Urban Development (in public domain)
Immortalized through photographs, drawings, and stories, buildings that have been demolished or completely renovated exist in the realm known as “lost architecture.” Either for economic or aesthetic reasons, the old gets torn down for the new, often to the disdain of community members and architects. But demolished buildings tell a story about the ever-changing politics of preservation—and often, they tell it far better than buildings that were actually preserved ever could. As the architectural landscape continues to change around us, it is important to recognize our past, even if its traces have been eliminated from the physical world.