The Nakagin Capsule Tower, once heralded as a vision of the future, is gone. The building, famous for its self-contained, replaceable units, is now a skeleton of its former self, and in a few more weeks, it will be a patch of dirt ready for redevelopment. This isn’t just a sad ending; it’s a shocking, premature final chapter.
The building was an iconic Tokyo structure. Many friends recognized it immediately from TV, where its distinctive, stacked capsules often served as a backdrop for news channel broadcasts from Tokyo, particularly in the aftermath of the 2011 disaster.
Kisho Kurokawa built it in 1972. It was a shining example of Metabolism, a radical Japanese architectural movement that viewed buildings as living, evolving organisms—hence the name, which carries a feeling of continuous renewal and growth.
Kurokawa was a key member, and the tower embodied their core belief: Undo the bolts of an apartment, take it out, and replace it. The building would evolve through its lifetime.
However, replacing the units proved technically difficult and prohibitively expensive, meaning the capsules remained fixed for 50 years. The dream of true Metabolism was never realized.
By the 2000s, the structure was failing. Concerns over significant water leaks, out-of-date utilities, and the presence of asbestos—coupled with the high cost of renovation versus replacement—sealed its fate. After decades of fighting for preservation, the demolition notice was final.
Now, it has been reduced to almost nothing. Workers are pulling it apart in the middle of a heatwave that was pounding the city. It was a brutal summer, and I’m surprised the demolition crew could work at all.
Not that I saw many of them. They seemed to be inside Nakagin. That was where the sound of the jackhammers was. But, every so often, a crane would carry a huge bucket-load of material to a waiting truck. Nets around the building kept the dust in check.
Knowing its modular design, I shouldn’t have been surprised by the speed of the demolition. And yet, I was. In August 2021, I visited the building when I heard the news that it would be gone. Just over ten months later, not much was left of it.
From my vantage point on that brutally hot day, the sense of loss felt intensely quiet. Only one or two people stopped to take pictures with smartphones, while everyone else walked by. Though preservation efforts made international news, here, on the street, the going out was a whimper. It’s a shame. This piece of Tokyo history deserved a louder farewell.
What are your memories of the Nakagin Capsule Tower? Did you ever see it in person, or did you, like my friends, know it only from pictures? Share your stories and thoughts below.
Date of Photos: 30 June 2022
Rohan has photographed Tokyo since 2011. He shoots it with his Canon EOS R5. The project will take more than one lifetime.
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