After marrying, this blog fulfilled its purpose, which was to speak my mind for those who wanted to understand me (not for them to have to understand). Therefore, this blog will remain for reference, and testify to a person facing his weaknesses without support to overcome it. The answers are in the +1,100,000 words written in the past 3 years, and the thoughts and things I've had and done since I was 5. I don't think you will read it, but it's there.
That's all there is to say.
That's all there is to say.
The K Museum, or K building in Ariake, a 20 min walk either way from Tokyo Teleport or Kokusai-Tenjijo, was meant, I think, to house a museum of infrastructure. Makoto Sei Watanabe designed it, together with parts of its landscaping. As far as I know, it has never been in use. These days it just sits next to the bridge over to Odaiba, unknowing of whether it is forgotten, or has forgotten itself. Yesterday there was an impromptu water park set up next to it, and cosplaying teenagers were having photoshoots in its adjacent park.
Later in the evening we went to Ginza, to have a closer look at Yoshinobu Ashihara's Sony Building. It opened in 1966 and is slated for demolition next year. A couple of years ago it underwent an extensive refurbishment, where the focal point of the building - a gameboy-like facade with light behaving like pixels - was removed. For decades, the facade had been lit up in various patterns, symbols and messages, themselves icons of a futurist Japan at the time when colour-TV was considered a work of the devil to older people in Sweden.
Now the dizzying showreel is moving to Ginza Place, a rather disgusting piece of work I suspected a big name was behind when we passed by it last thing yesterday on the way to the metro. Today it turned out to be Klein Dytham, arguably the most respected and successful "foreign" office in Tokyo. They have a thing for cheesy patterns, I think.
Because of the previous refurbishment, it's very hard to tell what remains of the original design in the Sony Building today, apart from the general massing. The facade has been reduced to a generic billboard, at times given a slight nod to a more dignified past, as contemporary artists are picked to attach some kind of temporary piece of visual art to it. The overall feeling though is one of regression. Although I know nothing of the practical reasons behind the removal of the original facade, it stands out as yet another example of the collective amnesia (more positive: material transcience) of Japanese cities and architecture.
The first floor of the Sony Building has a curious entrance to an English pub attached to it. Spared the spotlights of brash product exposure, it's easy to miss. The sign on the door tells us it's celebrating 50 years in Ginza this year - 1966-2016. I couldn't help wondering if this pub had been there since the very inauguration of Ashihara's building. That to me is Japan, a Victorian, mahogny-clad pub sharing stairwell with an illuminated machine.