Tokyo Undertrack - Nicolas Wicart

Toky Undertrack

Nicolas Wicart

TOKYO UNDERTRACK How to overcome the negative externalities of mass-transit infrastructure?

A thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirement for the degree of Architecture at Université Libre de Bruxelles Faculté d’architecture de La Cambre Horta under the direction of Geoffrey Grulois

August 2015

.

PREFACE

This thesis is about the existing mass-transit infrastructure within the city and whether the physical and social consequences of its presence can be changed. Mass-transit infrastructure, whether expanding above, on or under the ground is the skeleton of our modern megapolises and yet, it also has negative effects on the social and physical environment. With the urban population increasing day by day, overcoming those disturbances becomes of the utmost importance for the liveability of our cities.

In the course of examining this problem, this work looks at five sections of inhabited elevated railways located in Tokyo.

It suggests that the smart utilization of the space freed under the elevated train tracks tackles some of its nuisances.

The reflexion that lies behind this work started 3 years ago after reading ‘Infrastructural Urbanism’ from Stan Allen and was nourished by an exchange and experimental research under the direction of Jorge Almazan in Tokyo, in 2014 and the discussions with my thesis supervisor, Geoffrey Grulois.

Other names should be mentioned here, as they helped and supported me throughout this research, Max Zimmerman and Bettina Grabmayr for our enriching conversations, Takayama Shota, Inoue Gaku and Oikawa Yuri for their precious help with Japanese information and my family and friends for their priceless encouragement.

July, 2015

Nicolas Wicart

TABLE OF CONTENTS 0- INTRODUCTION

9

1- IMAGE OF THE RAIL Development of the Mass-Transit Infrastructure in Tokyo

13

• Introduction to Japanese History • The Tokugawa polity / Polity of seclusion • Meiji Restoration / Industrialization of Japan • Private rail companies / Urban Development Around the Rail • Introduction of the car / Shift Towards Private Transportation • Conclusion / Primacy of the rail & Positive image of the rail

15 15 17 19 21 22

2- IMAGE OF THE CITY Perception of the Urban Environment Europe vs.

Japan.

27

• Line vs. Area • Coexistence vs. Unity • Universalism vs. Localism • Conclusion

29 30 32 34

3- IMAGE OF THE UNDERTRACK BUILDINGS Overcoming the Negative Externalities

37

• General context • Case Study 1 – Context • Case Study 1 – Deductions • Case Study 2 – Context • Case Study 2 – Deductions • Case Study 3 – Context • Case Study 3 – Deductions • Case Study 4 – Context • Case Study 4 – Deductions • Case Study 5 – Context • Case Study 5 – Deductions • Conclusion

40 43 54 57 64 67 74 77 84 87 94 96

4- CONCLUSION

99

7

0 INTRODUCTION

The question of mass-transit infrastructure in cities has always

been a difficult one. Indeed, although public transportation systems have been of the utmost importance to the proper functioning and development of the city, they also have generated deleterious effects on their environment, also referred to as “negative externalities” by Stephen Graham and Simon Marvin in their book, Splintering Urbanism.

What they refer to here are “the ‘splillovers’ or ‘externalities’ that might negatively affect the environment or particular social groups” (Graham S, Marvin S, 2001). For example, a railway running through a city between station A and B will enable passengers to travel between the two stops faster and more conveniently than by foot or car. However, the same train track crossing the city can also act as a physical and social barrier that produces noise and other disturbances. These negative effects on the social and physical environment are known as negative externalities.

Starting from the postulate that urban population in the world is growing annually, it naturally follows that cities and mass-transit infrastructures will need to expand in response. Hence, the question of public transportation network’s consequences on the environment 9

seems of the utmost importance to tackle. And what city could help us better to understand the repercussions of the mass-transit infrastructure network on the urban fabric and society than Tokyo; one of the world’s largest and most dense megapolises equipped with one the world’s most efficient and travelled train systems.

From my analysis and own experience utilizing the Tokyo rail web, I stumbled upon an unfamiliar urban configuration, which I named ‘undertrack’ buildings. As their label suggests, these types of construction, also referred to as kôka3 or Gado Shita4 in Japanese, are exclusively built under elevated railways. I argue that through the active utilization of the ‘undertrack’ spaces in inhabited areas, Tokyo has succeeded in overcoming some of the negative externalities borne from elevated railways. Rather than try to expose a universal and perfect urban configuration, my intention is to offer insight into an uncommon type of construction that have shown in the case of Tokyo to be beneficial to rail companies, the city, and its citizen. Through analysis of specific cases, I hope to shape how space under elevated infrastructure is understood and make it a potential candidate for future construction projects.

Before trying to expose the benefits of ‘undertrack’ buildings on their surroundings, it is necessary to expose the physical and cultural context from which they come. Augustin Berque’s concept of mediance argues that it is impossible to dissociate space from culture and history. He writes, “Society shapes its environment based on the representation it has from itself; and in turn these adaptations influence its initial perception and representation. An environment is both collective and individual: the schemes for understanding reality are transmitted by the group but are expressed by the individual” (Liberation, 2001). Therefore, to grasp how Tokyo succeeded in overcoming the negative externalities of elevated mass transit infrastructure various factors need to be taken into consideration ranging from historical, cultural, and experimental.

3 In her book, La ville et le rail au japon, Natacha Aveline assigns the expression ‘kôka’ to the elevation of train tracks in Japan.

4 In his thesis, Arnon Snapir uses the term ‘Gado Shita’ to refer to the buildings found under Tokyo’s elevated railways.

10

THE IMAGE OF THE RAIL, a brief historical review, is the first chapter of this thesis. Its aim is to expose the way mass-transit infrastructure evolved in Japan in order to understand how the network became so efficient and what image it reflects on the population. To do so, this part will portray the historical context in which the rail has been introduced and developed as well as the political decisions that shaped the network in its actual form.

THE IMAGE OF THE CITY, a cultural meditation, is a discussion derived from my personal observation that although elevated railway can be found both in Europe and Japan, ‘undertrack’ buildings are a common feature in Japan while they are nearly nonexistent in European cities. Hence, this section intends to unveil the differences in the way European and Japanese perceive, apprehend, and convert space in order to understand how one population came to utilize ‘undertrack’ spaces and not the other. In order to do so, we will compare educational, religious, cultural, and historical specificities of Japan with their European counterparts and expose their influence on spatial arrangement.

THE IMAGE OF ‘UNDERTRACK’ SPACES, an investigational discussion,intends to find out what characteristics of ‘undertrack’ buildings enable them to reduce “negative externalities” of elevated railways. I will examine five different case studies in Tokyo to demonstrate how.

11

1 THE IMAGE OF THE RAIL

Development of the Mass-transit Infrastructure in Japan

The first part of this thesis aims to discuss the role and image of mass-transit infrastructure in Tokyo in order to understand how this capital city became equipped with one of the most efficient public transportation systems in the world3. This chapter argues that thanks to an underdeveloped road system the introduction of the train brought a popular, accepted message of modernization across Meiji Japan (1865-1912). This ubiquitous picture in turn fostered the development of an efficient railway network. Furthermore, I think that this specific portrait of mass-transit infrastructure, paired with some cultural factors, to be elaborated on in the following chapter, favoured the usage of spaces carved out by elevated railways.

After a brief introduction to Japan’s history, we will discuss the political resolutions that led to an inefficient road network. The first decisive enactments happened during the Tokugawa Period, with the establishment of a strictly regulated set of routes and the institution of a policy of national isolation. Those decisions, 3 According to the guardian, Tokyo has one of the top 10 best rail network in the world. (www.theguardian.com)

13

which helped the ruling Shogunate to keep control over trade and information flows also led to an ineffective transportation web, a lag in the country’s development, and most importantly, contributed to their downfall in the end at the nineteenth century.

After the Tokugawa Shogunate’s collapse the Meiji Restoration aimed to modernize the country after nearly two hundred years of relative seclusion of the Tokugawa period. This Meiji saw numerous changes in the country, from the forming of a political constitution to new social organizations to transportation and industry revolutions. The morality and efficacy of modernization is beyond the topic of this research, but nevertheless, it saw the creation and vivid expansion of the train network.

One major compromise by the government was the allowance of private investors to carry out new railway operations. Private entrepeneurs saw in the train the possibility to promote their region’s economy, under the surveillance of the public authorities, by creating the major lines that came to form the actual network. The lack of investment by the state in the road system and rapidity with which the public transport system evolved led the road network to a secondary existence, once more.

As private railway companies constructed most of the train tracks in Japan, they also built the national image of the rail. It is this precise image that partially explains the primacy of the rail in Japan and the presence of ‘undertrack’ buildings in the city of Tokyo. Indeed, the positive image carried by the rail meant less opposition to new line development and easier acceptatance of the infrastructure needed for it, which in turn lead to alternative usage. In order to depict a more exact picture, it is important to specify the economic strategy of those companies and the scope of their services. Indeed, these enterprises created more than a railway network, as we might know them in the West, but rather built a gigantic service infrastructure offering transport, entertainments, goods, and more. They did not just offer transportation, but an experience.

Finally, the last decision that fostered popular usage of trains throughout Japan concerns the strategy used to promote private transportation systems, strictly speaking, the car. Although the Japanese car industry began in the early twentieth century the small web of roads was a major obstacle to the widespread popularity of the car in pre-World War II Japan. With the Meiji state concentrating all its effort on industrial and military development, the rail network grew more efficient day by day, while the roads remained underdeveloped.

14

Even in the 1970’s when the government decided to equip Tokyo with an efficient system of highways, the new urban landscape was moulded by the existing network of railway and stations and high price of land This contributed to the road system being left as secondary means of transportation in terms of number of users and efficiency for a third time.

Understanding these factors is the first necessary step to fathom how ‘undertrack buildings’ came to be. Indeed, the primacy of the rail led the urban fabric to organize itself around the train network and the positive image reflected by it can be accredited to the acceptance of its materialization whether it appears on, above, or under the ground.

Introduction to Japan’s History The first signs of a unifying power in the country emerged during the third century AD with the Yamato clan setting its court in Nara. After that, different periods succeeded, each with their polity and capital city.

The Nara Period (710-784) saw the establishment of an imperial court in the city of Nara. Then came the Heian Period (794-1185), which marks the displacement of the same court from Nara to Kyoto. Towards the end of the twelfth century, military clans started challenging the emperor’s power, finally dragging the country into the feudal era or Medieval Period (1185-1598) marked by military government called Shogunate4. Approaching the end of the sixteenth century a struggle for power emerged between different feudal lords eventually seeing, Tokugawa Ieyasu, to establish a military government in Edo, present day Tokyo, ushering in the beginning of the Tokugawa Period (1603- 1868).

Tokugawa Polity: The Polity of Seclusion In order to preserve influence and power over the numerous feudal lords, the Tokugawa government instituted various directives among which, Sankin-kotai5 in 1635 obliging feudal lords to move from their fiefdom to Edo six months a year or one year out of

4 The Shogunate is the military government led by a Shogun. The Shogun is a hereditary commander-in-chief in feudal Japan. (www.oxforddictionaries.com) 5 Sankin kōtai is a system inaugurated in 1635 by the Tokugawa shogun Lemitsu by which the great feudal lords had to reside several months each year in the Tokugawa capital at Edo. (http://www.britannica.com/)

15

two, and Sakoku6 limiting all international exchanges to a single Dutch colony through a sole harbour in Nagasaki, were most influential. These measures are important to us due to the profound impacts they had on social, territorial and political organization.

The Sankin-kotai marks the establishment of the need for the first consistent mobility network in Japan. It served the lords as they traveled between their fiefdom and Edo. Named Gokaido7, the system consisted of different dirt roads, which existed before the establishment of an official set of routes, that linked major towns and cities. Along these pathways, post stations served the mail system and for travellers to rest. The governing authorities used this existing network as a tool to control the movement of people and goods. In order to do so, vehicle transportation and bridge construction became restricted and check stations appeared along the paths. While road networks were progressing in Europe, the strict regulations left the Japanese’s dirt route system inefficient and therefore a secondary in term of transport.

The most efficient way to transport goods and people was therefore through the sea, rivers, and canals. People sent rice, fishmeal fertilizers, and more by boat through key routes along the coast and rivers (E. Aoki, 1994). Nevertheless, due to strong currents in the rivers, rough seas, and mountainous landscapes seafaring navigation was nearly as ineffective as land transportation. As a consequence, the different fiefdoms constituting the country were working independently, socially and economically. In other words, the restrictions enacted by the Tokugawa polity to preserve supremacy froze the country’s development in many sectors amid transportation and above all, contributed to its slow corrosion.

Gradually losing influence to the growing merchant class and imperial supporters, the Tokugawa dynasty’s coup de grâce was the arrival of Commodore Perry. In 1853, a United States army fleet moored in Yokohama bay demanding Japan open to international trade. In order to persuade the population of the benefits they could draw from such a treaty, the boats were filled with the latest technological inventions.

6 This term, used later in history, names the serie of directives aiming to strictly control international trade in Japan.

7 Gokaido, literally “Five Highways”, were the five centrally administered routes that connected Edo, with the outer provinces during the Edo period 1603 to 1868.

16

Among which figured a working, full-scale model of a steam locomotive.

In 1854, the government signed the first international trade agreement, the Convention of Kanagawa. Not only did this accord open two harbours to the United States, it also led other countries growing interest in Japan and the signing of similar treaties with the government. The many agreements, signed with foreign nations, were seen as unequal and became the cause of serious internal struggles. These conflicts eventually led to the downfall of the Tokugawa Shogunate and the beginning of the Meiji period in 18688.

Meiji Restoration: The Industrialization of Japan The Meiji Restoration was the political revolution that sought and succeeded to restore imperial power and enable Japan to become a nation-state capable of competing with its Western counterparts both economically and militarily. In order to modernize the country, the authorities abolished the feudal system and its classes, transformed the privately owned fiefdoms into national prefectures, and adopted a Western-style constitution.

In order for the economy and industry to stand equal among Westerners’, the state promoted Western culture and hired foreign engineers to help develop industry and transportation systems.

Although foreigner advisors had already advocated for the construction of railroads to modernize the country before the Meiji Restoration, these suggestions never took shape until the fall of the Shogunate.

Nevertheless, in 1869, a poor year for the rice harvest, Harry Parkes, the British Minister to Japan, recommended the construction of railways to minimize the effects of famine and to modernize the country. The Meiji government agreed on the importance of an efficient rail network in a developed nation, and saw the railroads as an opportunity to put an end to feudalism and to centralize power in Japan (E Aoki, 1994).

Unlike the Tokugawa Shogunate, the Meiji government saw in a modern transportation network a way to control and unify the country without creating the ineffeciencies demonstrated by the system of dirt roads.

8 The Meiji period is said to have lasted from 1868 to 1912, which are respectively, the date of accession to power and dead of the emperor Meiji. (http://www.britannica. com/)

17

During the same year, discussions about a train track linking the port town of Yokohama, open to international trade, to Tokyo started. On June 12th, 1872, a twice-daily train service started on the twenty-nine kilometre track marking the start of regular passenger trains in Japan. On October 14th of the same year, the number of daily trains had increased to nine and a year later, rail freight services began (E Aoki, 1994). The official opening of that railroad, attended by the emperor himself, aroused the interest of an enormous crowd and marks the beginning of the frenzy to compete with the developed West. The efficiency of the rail compared to the inadequacy of road network, left underdeveloped by the Tokugawa tycoon’s strict regulations, led to the rapid growth of the railway network. By 1890, thanks to advanced technologies, visiting expert from other countries, and the substantial ambition of the private investors, the system had expanded to 2250 kilometres (T Ayashi, 1990).

Although the rapid evolution of the train network frightened a part of the population9, it didn’t take too long for the majority of Japanese to confer the rail a positive image as both a “symbol and convenience of civilization” (J Ericson, 1996). On the contrary, in the West, the rail’s image had a dark side. Both in Europe and North America, writers saw in the railroad “costs that invariably seem to accompany modernization”(ibid). This difference between the perception of the rail in Japan and the West has clearly worked in favour of the development of the railway companies and network in Japan. It seems then, that the sprawling web of public transport was meeting more opposition in Europe than it was in Japan.

The modernization initiated by the Meiji state was fast and effective.

Nevertheless, the two-hundred years of isolation had caused the island to be far behind in many sectors. Even though the government expressed its will to control the global modernization of the country, among which figured the development of the transportation system, due to financial troubles in 1880 the Finance Minister approved privately owned railway operations in order to concentrate the state’s attention towards industrial and military matters. This moment is a cornerstone in the development of the rail, and its image in Japan, marking the beginning of private railway companies, also known as Ôtemintetsu10.

9 “These perceptions were largely confined to the world of disaffected novelists, agrarian ideologues, and rural storytellers” (J Ericson, 1996) 10 Ôte minkan tetsudô gaisha or “large private railway companies” (N Aveline 2003)

18

Private Rail Companies: Urban Development Around the Rail Ôtemintetsu were the principal actors, under monitoring of the government, in the development of the actual rail infrastructure and its image. Examination of their growth, ambition, and inner workings will help understand the reason Tokyo has one of the most effective rail networks in the world to this day and the Japanese picture of their mass-transit infrastructure.

In 1881, the first Ôtemintetsu11 was established to promote the development of the Tôhoku region and its silk industry. Until the beginning of World War II, private investors started invading the rail sector, left unoccupied by public authorities, entering into battle for passengers. Although they are referred to as private companies, the Ôtemintetsu are not like any other private enterprise. Indeed, the Tetsudô Jigyô-hô law on railway states that they must act for the common good12. In other words, as Natacha Aveline explains, “the State applies strict control over their transportation service, especially regarding three particular fields: the opening and closure of lines, the pricing system and the security” (N Aveline, 2003). Strict control paired with the ambition of private companies was the perfect symbiosis to build an incredibly capable rail system. Indeed, as the state monitored pricing, and by extrapolation the companies’ incomes, they also gave these enterprises a large degree of freedom in their extrarailway activities. This allowed them to keep affordable and stable fares while reaching their operational equilibrium and grow larger.

These extra activities, more lucrative than rail transport itself13, varied among different companies but can be grouped in four categories: Car transport, real estate, leisure and distribution. In order to accommodate these services along their lines, the private companies implemented two strategies: the first was to acquire large sections of lands freed by the abolition of fiefdoms and impoverishment of many, previously, 11 The first private railroad company was the “Nihon Tetsudô Kaisha” (N Aveline, 2003) 12 The wording appears as follow: “The purpose of this law is to push forward the social welfare by protecting the train user’s interest and controlling the sustainable development of railway activity. In this regard, the State makes sure of the appropriate and rational management of railway activity.” (N Aveline, 2003, p 187 in footnotes) 13 For more information, Jian Qian Ying, The making of Japan’s railway systems – with a comparison with Britain, Departement of Regional Policy, Gifu university, 2009, Japan.

19

high-ranked individuals. The second was to use the space inside or around the stations, carved out by the elevated tracks, to transform simple railway stops into shopping, cultural and social hubs. The estate acquisition and the conversion of stations into urban centralities are the operations that led the city to mould itself to the rail system.

For example, in 1920, Tôkyû, a major rail company, planned and built a garden city14 along its line in the south of Tokyo (N Aveline, 2004). Along with the income from the real estate, the operation ensured continuous passenger flow on the railroads. Strictly speaking, they were selling or renting houses and their train tracks were the only, and therefore most efficient, means to travel to and from the new conurbations. In some lands, not accessible by train, they even extended their network with car transportation. Although regularly unprofitable, the car transportation broadened the operative field of private companies, bringing to light the ambition of most Ôtemintetsu: to ensure a continuous transportation service to all its customers.

Another example of extra-railway activities is the transformation of stations into urban centers. Ichizō Kobayashi, CEO of Hankyû, another major railway, induced the first step towards that shift. He realized the convenience that a shopping surface in the terminal stations could offer to the passenger. And in 1920, the company opened the first food store in one of its station(N Aveline, 2003). The high profitability of those shops led other Ôtemintetsu to follow the trend, which led stations to become the centre of each towns, suburbs or cities. Literally, the urban fabric was slowly moulding itself around the railway network. The diversification of the rail companies in the distribution sector also marks their conversion from enterprises to conglomerates. They could offer ubiquitous services for a household living along one of their lines under one brand.

To illustrate that omnipresence, N. Aveline depicts a day trip of an ordinary passenger writing, “Reaching the station, they step in a bus or a taxi, then if needed, they use a cable car or a boat, and stroll around the amusement park where they enjoy the sport infrastructures before resting in a café, eating in a restaurant to finally end your eventful day at the hotel” (N. Aveline, 2003). By achieving a service monopoly in the leisure sector as well as all others (transport, distribution, real

14 Based on the English garden cities of Ebenezer Howards (N Aveline, 2003)

20

estate, etc.), the image of the rail and the companies that owned them shifted from useful infrastructure allowing you to commute everyday to a compulsory and necessary aspect of everyday life.

Introduction of the Car: The Shift Towards Private Transportation The evolution of the individual transportation system in Japan has clearly worked in favour of the rail, as political decisions helped foster the usage of public transport. Although Japan started producing cars and working on its road network before the seventies15, the train remained the major transportation system. The 1964 Olympics, a growing economy, and pressures of the international automobile market were all factors that led the authorities to officially decide to upgrade the road system. Fortunately for the Ôtemintetsu, that decision happened too late for a considerable shift towards private transportation to occur in Tokyo. Indeed, the urban fabric, organized around the rail network was inappropriate for car transport and the price of land was on the rise making the cost of road construction exorbitantly high (N Aveline, 2003). All of this led the road system to be left secondary, for the third time in Japanese history, both in terms of users and efficiency, and remains so to this day16.

The major problems encountered were in real estate prices and people’s habits. At that time, most of the city plots’ surfaces were less than 100 square meters and land prices were increasing sharply. As a consequence, expropriation for the purpose of road construction was cumbersome and pricey. Furthermore, the acquisition of a car was hit by four separate taxes, and its usage included a tax levy on fuel and tolls17. Meanwhile companies were offering compensation for workers travelling by train. All of this pilled up together made the usage of private transportation in Tokyo unaffordable and impractical and led to private railway enterprises to strengthen their activity as public transporter.

15 “The world produces 10.5 million cars, of which the USA produces 8 million (75%), Britain 784,000 and Japan 32,000.”(http://www.scaruffi.com/politics/cars.html) 16 This is the case for Tokyo according to the statistics published by the Statistic Bureau of Japan.

17 “Due to the inadequate public funding, highways in Japan have been built and operated based on the so-called ‘cost recovery principle’ – meaning that the construction and maintenance costs should be fully covered by toll revenues” (Jian Qian Ying, 2009)

21

Nonetheless, the growth of Ôtemintetsu, into the conglomerate they represent today, is not essentially due to the inefficiency and price of the private transportation system. All along their development, those companies took advantage of the technological, political, social and economical changes. Whenever shifts occurred they did not perceive it as an obstacle but an opportunity to diversify their services. For example, after the state encouraged the elevation of train tracks in order to prevent accidents at level crossings. Not only did the Ôtemintetsu profit from state subventions for the construction cost; they also took advantage of the spaces freed by the elevated tracks to develop warehouses, parking, offices, commercial centres, etc.

(N Aveline, 2003) marking the beginning of ‘undertrack’ buildings.

Another example worth noting in order to understand the scope private railway companies reached, is their usage of the automobile.

Although the automobile was not the main transportation system, it evolved fast. The Ôtemintetsu understanding the risks encountered with the growth of this new rival started absorbing newly created bus and taxi companies, equipping their stations with parking lots, offering car rental services, and more. These tactical decisions, although not always profitable, allowed them to link their lines to the ever-sprawling suburbs and continue to offer a complete service to the population.

Conclusion As seen in this chapter, due to the various political decisions instituted throughout history, the road system, in comparison to the rail network, has long been left secondary, both in terms of efficiency and passenger flow. From 1635, the Tokugawa government froze the evolution of the road system for more than 200 years.

Then, the Meiji government, concentrating all its energy on the industry and military sectors, authorized private actors to intervene in rail development. The rapidity with which a dynamic rail system progressed led both the state and the population to rely on it, leaving the road secondary once again. Finally, in the 1970s, the decision to equip the city with an efficient road network appeared too late and the high costs of road transportation strengthened demand for rail transportation. What is more, the train offered a new type of freedom, and market opportunities creating a positive image nationally.

22

This positive image and the efficiency of the rail are reciprocal. In other words, from the beginning, the capability offered by the train aroused a newfound enthusiasm, which in turn fostered the expansion of the existing network. Reciprocally, the fast evolving system was becoming more competent inciting a growing eagerness. In comparison, Europe has long related railways to the negative outcomes of modernity such as rural exodus. It seems to me that this negative perception of the rail has had a double effect: first, it placed the rail in a second position in terms of transportation means, bringing forward the private car as an image of personal success. In turn, the rail infrastructure was not perceived as necessary but rather as a second option to commute. Therefore, when visible, Europeans only perceive it as a negative element of infrastructure in the city, like a water pipe that would run visible through an apartment.

The physical manifestations of the train (railroad, catenary, trains, etc.) were playing a major role in the positive picture conferred to the rail network in Japan, as they were the modernization’s concretisation.

Nevertheless, in my opinion, the Ôtemintetsu and the range of service they offered conferred considerable support to that image as well. It is therefore important to understand the span of these private railway companies. The easiest way to do so is to describe their presence in daily life. Imagine a person waking up in a Tokyo suburban house, cycling to the station, stepping on a train to reach his office, working all-day, going for a drink with his friends, stepping on a train to go back home, buying food in the station’s shops, riding his bicycle back home, and finally going to bed. This person might have used only a few Ôtemintetsu’s facilities within this daily routine.

Indeed, the house he owned or is renting might have been part of a real estate development led by a private rail company. Reaching the station with his bicycle, the person uses the chargeable parking owned by the same enterprise. He walks into the station, scans his daily commuter card, and passes by numerous shops and vending machines before reaching the closest station to his office. After a busy working day, he meets with friends and they have drinks and dinner in one of the Ga Do Shita18. He steps again onto the train to go back home.

18 Ga Do Shita, literally “under the girder”, characterizes the restaurants, bars and shops occupying the space freed by elevated train tracks in Japan (John Spacey, 2014, on http://www.japan-talk.com/).

23

Once at the closest station to his house, he stops by the supermarket, also inside the station, picks up his bike and finally rides back home.

Considering the wide range of services offered, we cannot talk about railway companies as we know them in Europe. When mentioning the SNCB19 in Belgium, people picture only trains and will often complain about their lateness, strikes, lack of coordination with bus and tram transfers, etc. In Japan though, the public transportation network transports a different image as the name of the lines can be associated with trains, buses and cars but also theme parks, supermarkets, urban centre, etc. It is without too much risk that we can assert that the rail, and all the functions it hosts, is perceived like an indispensable element of the city in Japan. In contrast the rail in some European cities is seen as a secondary option in the transport sector.

The last, but not least contribution, to the usage of the railway, and by extrapolation its positive image, is the compensation received when using the train. In some companies, in order to favour the usage of public transportation, the worker’s commuting fees are covered. In comparison, the same worker would receive no bonuses if using a private car. This small financial gesture from the enterprises bestows the positive image of the rail an economical side.

To cut a long story short, the arrival of the train in Japan, superseding the outmoded road system, was received with much enthusiasm.

This frenzy for modernization paired with the ambition of the private investors led to a vivid development of the mass-transit infrastructure.

Appearing as the new and best transportation mode, the sprawling city was getting organized around the rail network and attracted more and more people. Being monitored by the State, the growing private companies diversified their services, which accentuated both the urban fabric to mould around the network and the positive/essential image/ position of the train. As a result, whether hidden underground, laying bare open in the urban fabric or hovering over it, rail infrastructure did not reflect a negative image but mirrors a necessary chore to the operation of the city as well as some modern conveniences.

19 SNCB stands for “Société Nationale des Chemins de fer Belges” (National company of the Belgian Railways) and is the enterprise managing the Belgian railways.

24

2 THE IMAGE OF THE CITY

Perception of Space in Japan and Europe

In the first chapter, we’ve exposed historical decisions that have shaped the efficient mass-transit infrastructure network of Tokyo and its positive image. From this background, we can understand how ‘undertrack’ buildings appeared. Indeed, when the state decided to improve Tokyo’s road network, they incited the railway companies to raise their tracks, as it would reduce the chances of accident at level crossings. The enterprises took advantage of the situation and started building in and renting the space freed by this elevation, increasing their income. Nevertheless, if this political and economic explanation was the only factor that led to the existence of such type of constructions, how is it that European cities, which count some elevated railroad too did not follow the trend? The answer lies in the way Japanese and European perceive, apprehend and convert space.

Indeed, when presenting the first strands of this research to my Japanese colleagues, they expressed a lack of interest in the topic. Although ‘undertrack’ buildings’ seemed like a new way to occupy space to me, it represented a common urban feature to their Japanese eyes. Although, the ordinariness of ‘undertrack’ construction is partially due to the fact that most Japanese have grown in their presence, these ‘undertrack’ 27

buildings have not always been so ubiquitous. Japanese architects saw in the space freed by the elevation of railways a constructible plot and made conscious decisions to utilize these unique spaces.

Hence this chapter aims to expose the differences between the Japanese and European perception of space in order to understand why ‘undertrack’ buildings became a common urban setting in Japan and not Europe. As Augustin Berque outlines in an interview, “to claim that the question of the being is philosophical whereas the question of place would be geographical, is to split reality by an abyss which forever hinder from grasping it” (Libération 2001). In other words, it is essential to consider the cultural and philosophical characteristics of a population in order to understand the place they live in. Taking this into consideration, this chapter will expose some specificities of Japanese culture in order to comprehend how they perceive and therefore convert space. In order to enhance the links between culture and space comprehension, we will compare cultural particularities of Japan with their European counterparts and highlight their consequences on the physical world, in this case on cities.

The first part of this chapter, based on Barrie Shelton’s book Learning from Japanese Cities, exposes how children in Europe and Japan are taught to write and some characteristics of each language. This comparison of language and script brings to light a fundamental difference between European and Japanese, who have very different concepts of area and limits.

The next part is built around a comparison of mainstream religions in Japan and Europe: Shinto/Buddhism and Christianity. The development and analysis of these religions reveals a tolerance by the Japanese towards the coexistence of various, sometimes even contradictory elements, and change.

The last part, based on Augustin Berque’s analyses of the European and Japanese space, expresses the different positions that a European and a Japanese occupy when looking at the physical world. From the explanation of old philosophical roots of each culture, it appears that Japanese consider themselves as part of the nature while European split their conscience, themselves, from the physical world.

28

Although these cultural and religious characteristics might appear quite abstract when leafing through them, deeper, applied analysis enables us to visualize their influences on the physical world. From the interpretation of these cultural differences, I argue that the way Japanese perceive, apprehend, and convert space makes them more prone to consider ‘undertrack’ spaces as a potential buildings site.

Line vs. Area Learning from the Japanese City is based upon the idea that “the way we think is closely tied to our language, so the way we conceive and arrange space is related to the graphic qualities and visual expression of our language” (B Shelton, 2012). In his research Barrie Shelton analysed the ways in which Japanese and European children were taught to write in order to understand the way they think about space. It appears that from the moment they start writing, children in Japan are asked to concentrate on a bounded area on all sides while children in Europe are asked to concentrate on lines that leave the horizontal dimension unbounded but restrict verticality.

In primary school, Japanese students are taught to write using a sheet of paper containing empty squares enclosed by vertical and horizontal lines running through it, whereas in the West students are taught using just horizontal lines. Japanese children are taught to write each character balanced around the centre of the square. Westerners on the other hand have to write each letter between the top and bottom line. As a consequence, the Japanese mind tends to focus on the whole area while the European mind is constrained only by vertical limits. There is always more room to the side for the Westerner.

Regarding European languages, Shelton further explains that, “because each letter has to be read in groups to carry any meaning at all, it is the composite linear spacing or formation that is the paramount” (B Shelton, 2012). This is in contrasts with the Japanese language’s independence of characters that enables the child to arrange the kanji21 either horizontally or vertically while maintaining meaning. In other words, the Japanese mind focuses first on the area on which independent characters exist and then assemble them vertically or horizontally. On the other hand, Westerners focus on lines and the 3

21 A system of Japanese writing using Chinese characters, used primarily for content words. (www.oxforddictionaries.com)

29

limits in between which the assembly of characters takes place from left to right to create words. It naturally follows that the manner by which a language is organized has consequences on how one orders his world. For example, in Japan, a building is seen as a superposition of independent surfaces whereas in Europe, a building is seen a closed box containing dependent spaces delimited by slabs. As a consequence, the roof of the building is considered as a usable surface in Japan while it is perceived as the upper limit to the building in Europe.

It is possible to find an initial explanation to the existence of ‘undertrack’ buildings’ in this radical difference in the way space is perceived.

Translating the independence of the space in Japanese language to architecture, each floor of a building can act like a separate box in which kanji are written. The area freed by the elevation of a railway is considered as an independent surface on which any function could be built. In other words, the space contained under the elevated structure is perceived as independent, potential building plot.

Coexistence vs. Unity Although language and script can give one tangible explanation to the formation of ‘undertrack’ buildings in Tokyo, it is important to consider other cultural specificities. Elements of the mainstream religions in Japan and Europe should be taken into consideration for this purpose.

Indeed, based on the analysis and comparison of some particularities of each doctrine, we can assert that Japanese are more accustomed to constant changing of their environment and the coexistence of various, sometimes even contradictory elements. In opposition, Europeans prefer to fix a hierarchical environment characterized by unity.

For a millennium and a half, Europe has been dominated by Christianity, which is still its most practiced religion to this day.22 In comparison, since the sixth century two religious creeds have coexisted in Japan, Shinto, the native religion and Buddhism, imported from Korea and China.23 Although various schools of Shinto and 4

5

22 According to a poll about Religiosity of 2012 by Eurobarometer Christianity account 72% of EU Citizens.

23 A survey lead by The Dentsu Communication Institute, Japan Research Center in 2006 revealed that 51,8% of the population relate to folk Shinto or non religious, 34,9% to Buddhism, 4% to Shinto organisation or others, 2,3% to Christianity and 7% did not answer.

30

Buddhism have developed different rites, all of them rely on certain fundamental beliefs. Furthermore, because there is no ceremony of accession to Shinto (and not for many Buddhist schools either), it is common for a Japanese to worship local deities at a Shinto shrine and attend ceremonies at a Buddhist temple too. Taking B. Shelton’s postulate that our culture and history also affect our perception of space, it naturally follows that the coexistence of different beliefs and habits led Japanese to be more accustom to coexistence than Europeans. A concrete example of this state of mind is the existence of temples that were dedicated to both Buddhism and Shinto24.

6

The tendency for Japanese to be more accustomed to coexistence in comparison to Europeans becomes even clearer when looking deeper into each religions’ roots. As Shelton remarks, in Christianity “God made the earth for man’s domination and sustenance.”(2012) While in Shinto, it is through the harmonious cooperation of the kami25, each in their respective missions that the creation of the world is realized (Ono, 1984). In other words, the Shinto landscape, fragmented, decentralized and non-hierarchical, is in opposition to the Christian’s. An easier way to picture the different landscape is to refer to Kisho Kurokawa’s biological metaphor used to differentiate European and Japanese cities, tree-like and rhizome-like cities: “The rhizome is the antithesis of the tree. The tree, according to Deleuze and Guattari, is a model for the hierarchy of dualism. First there is the central trunk, from which branches sprout in order. This hierarchy is firmly established; a branch, for example, never sprouts a trunk. A rhizome, in contrast, is an interwoven complex that defies division.

It is an intertwining of many heterogeneous things, out of order. It is always dynamic and changing, producing bulbs here and there as it mingles and twists back on itself. It has no centre” (K Kurokawa, 1997).

7

Some differences between Christianity and Buddhism also seem pertinent here as the fundamental ideas behind the two current of thought are somehow in opposition. As Shelton explains, “salvation and eternal life hold promise of something fixed and absolute for the Christian while all that exists for the Buddhist is temporary and transitory” (B Shelton, 2012). He further develops two main 24 Jingū-ji is the name for Buddhist temple that, starting in the eigth century, became associated with a Shinto shrine (…) They were abolished or separated by the law on separation of cults issued in 1868.

25 A divine being in the Shinto religion (www.oxforddictionaries.com)

31

characteristics of Buddhism, which enhance the difference between the two religions. “The first is that the world of which human beings are an integral part is seen as being in constant change. This is the normal or natural condition and to resist change can only lead to frustration.

Thus, notions of static permanency in everyday life carry no great value.

In the same vein, the idea of the perfect object cannot be for if change is constant then possibility (and, indeed, desirability) for improvement is also ever present. The second is that within the constant cycle of change, opposite states are not exclusive of each other but are accepted as necessarily coexisting” (Ibid.). The ideal outcome in Christianity is Heaven, a unique and fixed place to reach, while for Buddhists the purpose is the cessation of suffering and happens in the present. One contemplates a fixed paradise while the other accepts the world’s present condition and lives in perpetual change.

To understand the influence of Japanese religions on the utilization of space freed by elevated railway, I will characterize the development of one. When new elevated railway were implemented it was perceived as a “natural condition and to resist” it could “only lead to frustration” (Ibid.). Therefore, the structure became accepted and a part of the urban fabric. With the growing city, new plots of land were needed and ‘undertrack’ spaces were considered as a potential opportunities thanks to Japanese proclivity for coexistence. Although this short story is a simple characterization and ‘undertrack’ buildings exist first out of profitability for the train companies, without this specific perception of space undertrack construction would not have been perceived as a viable business opportunity. This would also explain why Europe, despite ample undertrack space, has almost no undertrack construction.

Universalism vs. Localism The final cultural argument justifying the common usage of ‘undertrack’ spaces is related to Augustin Berque’s concept of ‘mediance’, which traces back the philosophical changes that happened in a certain location and affected humans’ perception of space. As Berque states in an interview, “the Japanese mediance gives a more careful attention to the singularity of a location than the European’s, more focused on the universal components of Nature and Space. On one hand we will highlight the uniqueness of a place, on the other, in the contrary we will recognize what is common and therefore transposable from one location to another” (Liberation, 2001). Because we have to look 32

far back in history to unveil the philosophical characteristics that shaped our perception of space, we will consider China too as it had a significant influence on Japanese culture, religion, and writing system.

As Berque explains in his book Écoumène, looking back in history Europeans have progressively detached themselves from nature, deciding that there is nothing to see in the world and that universal truths have to be sought somewhere else. About two thousand years ago, Sénèque wrote: “Nothing is admirable outside of the mind” and some three hundred years later Saint Augustine explain that we have to chose between the spectacle of the world and the one of our conscience. Contrarily, for the Chinese civilisation, the truths existed in the physical world, in nature. A concrete consequence and proof of that division between the physical world and human mind, in Europe, can be found in Greek temples. These constructions were planned according to an abstract set of proportions unrelated to their environment.

For example, the entrance steps were not scaled for human but rather designed in accordance to the abstruse building proportions.

On the other hand, traditional Japanese architecture was thought of as part of its milieu and use to frame the surrounding landscape.

Another way to explain and justify the fusion with the world on one hand and European dualism on the other is through language. Berque exposes how European languages can consider a subject without the environment it lives in. Indeed, in English, French, Dutch, etc. the subject is independent from the world; we state ‘I am’, in other words, ‘I’ exist in any circumstances and in any location, ‘I’ is universal.

Additionally, the way you refer to yourself and convert verbs, in Japanese, is often completely relational to the outside world you exist in. For example, a male will use use 俺 (ore) casually with people of their age. 僕 (boku) when trying to be a male but more polite, say with work colleagues. And 私 (watakushi) when trying to be extremely polite, at a business meeting with an important client. Strictly speaking this fundamental difference shows an awareness of being part of the world in Japan and a desire to distinguish humanity and nature in Europe.

To conclude, we can argue that Japanese were philosophically more capable of investing ‘undertrack’ spaces than the West. Indeed, when confronted with an elevated railway, the Japanese paid careful attention to the particularities of the area – the space under the viaduct, the columns, the beams, the surrounding, etc. They saw in the location 33

opportunities to convert space like in any other place. In opposition, Europeans, saw in elevated construction the regularities of a train track, catenaries, trains, etc. and assimilate it as an infrastructural element of the city. Once that image was engraved, they struggled to consider any other uses of it than being part of the universal infrastructural network.

Conclusion This chapter offered some insights into Japanese language, religions and culture, which gives an explanation to the existence of ‘undertrack’ buildings in Japan. Although there are historical and economical explanations that blossomed such schemes, it is important to depict a wider context to fully understand their genesis. Indeed, although some elevated tracks can be found in European cities, ‘undertrack’ buildings did not become a common feature. This is due to the difference in the way Japanese and European perceive, understand and convert space. In fact, we have proven through the comparison of some particularities of Japanese and European society that Japanese were more likely to consider the space under an elevated structure like a buildings plot and therefore to construct ‘undertrack’ buildings.

The first differences that played a role in the commonness of ‘undertrack’ buildings is language. It appears that since their youngest age, Japanese are taught to focus on area whereas Europeans are taught to focus on limit. Therefore, when looking at a given location, respectively, one will focus on a surface and the other will search for limits within which the location can be contained. It naturally follows that a place freed by the elevation of train tracks will be considered as a prolongation of the area a Japanese stands on, and on the other hand as a volume enclosed within the limits drawn by the structure for a European.

From the comparison of Shinto, Buddhism and Christianity, it also appears that Japanese have been accustom to coexistence and perpetual change and therefore are more inclined to the existence of ‘undertrack’ buildings. The first and most obvious comparison comes from the foundations of Shinto and Christianity, a polytheist and a monotheist religion. It appears obvious that the followers of a polytheist religion will be more use to coexistence than others. And we could expose as a tangible consequences, the numerous cases in Tokyo where various sometimes even contradictory functions are piled up to form one entity, to cite only one, ‘undertrack’ buildings.

34

Then when looking deeper in Buddhism and Christianity, we realize that the practices’ ideal outcome are opposites. For the Christians, the final step is reaching Heaven, the most perfect place, whereas for Buddhists, the ultimate objective is to reach enlightenment, the most perfect state of being. In other words, while Christians live in the expectation of a better life, in a better place, Buddhism tells us that to reach the nirvana, one must accept the natural condition of the world it lives in, change. Strictly speaking, Christians imagine a fixed and perfect place. On the contrary, Buddhists accept the place’s present condition as change and by doing so will be more likely to search how to turn seemingly bothersome construction, elevated track, into a now necessary part of daily life, ‘undertrack’ buildings.

Finally, the comparison of Japan and Europe’s cultural backgrounds brings to light how Japanese give more importance to the particularities of a location in opposition to European who search for universal component to classify and understand it. This difference takes its roots with the beginning of philosophy, science and religion. When looking back in European history, we realise that a gap has been created between the physical world and the human conscience, eventually leading Westerners to search for truths in the human mind rather than in the physical world. In Japan though, the attention has long been carried towards nature, the physical world.

All these cultural specificities assembled together back up the statement that the Japanese mind is more prone to consider ‘undertrack’ constructions as a common feature of their surrounding.

Nevertheless, it is important to mention the factor of habituation, which definitely played a role in the acceptation of these types of urban situation. In fact, young Japanese have been born in a city where most of these edifices had already been built. And although they appear as a common urban setting to their eyes to this day, they might have faced virulent reactions at the time of their construction.

35

3 THE IMAGE OF THE ‘UNDERTRACK’ BUILDINGS Overcoming the negative externalities

As stated in the first chapter, the public authorities had started to promote the elevation of railroads around level crossings through subsidies in the 1970s, in order to enhance traffic’s security.

At first, the private railway companies took advantage of the space freed under their tracks to build warehouses, logistics facilities, parking buildings, etc. With the transformation of stations into social and commercial hubs, the value of these spaces increased and the Ôtemintetsu started converting the ‘undertrack’ spaces into more lucrative buildings, shopping centres, offices, etc.

As a result today there are almost 60 kilometres of elevated railway belonging to private and public companies, according to a research on viaduct architecture in the 23 wards of Tokyo led by Arnon Snapir in 2012. The surface of these viaducts is estimated to approximately 750,000 square meters on ground floor, out of which 40 per cent are actively used.26 Snapir has also put together a map locating 23 sections of elevated railroads, which are utilized or have the potential to be.

3

26 This figure does not include parking lots.

37

Figure 1 Map of the elevated railway in Tokyo

General Context The two first sections of railway analysed are part of the Chuo Line, a railway that has been developed prior to the urban conurbation around it. In operation since 1889, the line’s first goal was to boost the economic development of the Western part of Tokyo, more precisely Hachioji, a city producing and selling silk. Therefore, before the war, the Chūo Line was running on the ground through rural areas mostly occupied by scattered farming communities and had few stops. Right after the war, Tokyo’s dense urban fabric started sprawling, first along the railway lines connected to the city and then in between them.

The inhabitants’ desire to live close to a station as well as the increasing price of land at the time led to a densely built urban fabric around the railways. In the 1960’s the Chuo Line was elevated and its track quadrupled, in order to prevent accidents at level crossings and to enable both rapid and local trains to run on the railway at the same time.

The two first case studies will bring to light how ‘undertrack’ spaces are occupied according to their distance from the station and how they are occupied, and accessed in a densely built surrounding.

The two sections of the Chūo Line analysed lie in Suginami-ku, one of Tokyo’s 23 wards, housing mostly residential buildings.

The three other stretches analysed all lie under the Yamanote loop between Kanda station and Ueno station. In opposition to the Chūo line, the elevated railways analysed here have been superimposed on an existing layer of buildings, streets, etc. Whether running through a wealthy neighbourhood or a workers district, the construction of the line reshaped the old urban fabric and organization. Another major difference with the two first case studies is the central location, or in other words, less residential character of the area they lie on.

The three last cases, which respectively lie in Chiyoda-ku and Taito-ku, will expose how ‘undertrack’ spaces can let the urban fabric flow under it, can affect the atmosphere and type of a neighbourhood, and can work independently from its surrounding.

1 – Zone of activities – under the Chūo line, 2 – Inside street – under the Chūo line, 3 – Multi-layered infrastructure – under the Yamanote line, 4 – Shopping track – under the Yamanote line, 5 – Covered village – under the Yamanote line.

40

Ueno Station 4

2 1

5 3 Shinjuku Station Tokyo Station

Shibuya Station

Shinagawa Station

Fig. 2 Map locating the case studies

Fig. 3 Rhizome city diagram

Case study 1

ZONES OF ACTIVITY

Between Asagaya Station and Koenji Station

As seen in the previous chapter, Kisho Kurokawa refers to Japanese cities as Rhizome cities. As a reminder, in the botanical field, a rhizome is a horizontal underground plant stem capable of producing the upward shoot and the downward root systems of a new plant. Therefore, if we apply this term to urbanism, we can define the ‘rhizome city’ as follows: a city composed of multiple centres of variable intensity (shoots) and an ever-evolving, widespread infrastructure network (root system) that links those multiple centres.

We have exposed how and why Tokyo organized itself around the train network and more precisely the stations. Since stations are the starting and arrival point of most journeys and the commercial area of each suburb they serve, they naturally became the centres of activity of these suburbs. As you radiate out from these centres, density and activity tend to decrease from active commercial to quite residential areas. I determined three zones radiating from the station that can be defined according to their intensity and type of activity.

The first and most vivid zone is the area in the direct surroundings of the station that is characterized by an intense commercial and social activity. The second zone is a combination of commercial and residential occupation. And the third is mainly a residential zone.

Because the intensity of the centres varies with their accessibility, it is impossible to give precise dimensions to these zones. Nevertheless they merge with each other to create the endless urban fabric of Tokyo.

43

ASAGAYA STATION

NAKA

SUGI D

ORI

ZONE 1

ZONE 2

ZONE 3 Fig. 4 Plan of the Chuo Line east of Asagaya Station

Fig. 5 Zone 1, High density commercial mall

Fig. 6 Zone 2, Car and bicycle parking, shop

Fig. 7 Zone 2, Low density theme mall

Fig. 8 Zone 3, Storage space, parking

Fig. 9 Section 1

Fig. 10 Section 2

Fig. 11 Section 3

Fig. 12 Section 4

Fig. 13 Asagaya Axonometry

ZONE 1 Shopping Mall

ASAGAYA STATION

ZONE 3 Storage, Parking

ZONE 2 Parking, Local shops, Asagaya Anime Street

Fig. 14 Asagaya deconstructed axonometry

Shopping Mall 2F

Shopping Mall 1F

Convenience Store

Bicycle Parking Parking

Hairdresser, Art gallery, Dental Clinic

Fig. 15 Asagaya deconstructed axonometry

Parking area, Foodtruck

Asagaya Anime Street: Shops, Exhibition spaces

Storage 2F Storage, Parking

Parking, Flea market area, covered street

Fig. 16 Asagaya deconstructed axonometry

Deductions 3 zones of activities radiating from the station can be distinguished. Looking at the ‘undertrack’ functions, we can argue that the activities vary with the surroundings: THE FIRST ZONE - is a crossing point for pedestrians, cyclists, busses, etc. offering numerous potential customers for the surrounding shops.

Taking advantage of the situation, the railway company used that high value land to build a two stories shopping mall and rent the inside lots.

Remark: Although bordered by a side street, the mall is organized around an inside hall and walled on the outside. This scheme hinders the quality of the bordering street, left unused.

THE SECOND ZONE – being less vivid than the first one but still close to the station, is used as a bicycle and car parking which enable the first zone to be highly frequented and unclogged. Further, some shops starts answering a more local demand, hairdressers, convenience stores, etc.

Finally, as we walk away from the station, we stumble upon a specific function, an Anime themed mall. Although not lying in the most vivid zone around Asagaya Station, it lies in Suginami wards, which is famous for its Anime related facilities. The railway company took advantage of the ward’s image to attract fans in their Asagaya Anime Street.

Remarks: The section under which Asagaya Anime Street has been built is closely bordered by residential buildings. Having no streets bordering the line, the plan includes a pedestrian passage under the elevated structure, accessible from both sides of the theme mall.

THE THIRD ZONE – is a quite residential area characterized by a dense urban fabric, and the functions hosted under the railway reflect that type of activity. The path is organized in two stripes, one band consisting of storage and logistic buildings, and a road, mostly used by pedestrians, with flanked parking spots. Even though the activities might seem sad and inactive, the covered road is highly used by commuters to link their habitation and the station. Some storage owner even saw an opportunity in that traffic and have started selling their goods directly on the path, transforming the ‘undertrack’ space in a flea market.

54

As a conclusion of this first case study, we see that it is possible to occupy the space freed by elevated infrastructure in both active and more dormant areas. Even though the ‘undertrack’ functions might not all be as attractive as commercial and cultural centres, they are favourable both to the rail companies, as they increase their incomes and balance sheet, and to the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, as it offers them new land to build useful functions.

Another way to comprehend the positive impact of the utilization of ‘undertrack’ spaces is to imagine the elevated track walled or fenced and therefore inaccessible. The structure would be a no man’s land, a barrier in the city and would reflect a negative and dark image.

In this case study, the negative effects of the railway on the bordering houses are evident and not to be neglected. Nevertheless, these annoyances would be almost similar if the track was running on the ground. Besides, better spatial organization will be displayed more extensively in case studies three, four and five.

55

Fig. 17 Koenji Inside Street

Case study 2

Inside street

Between Koenji Station and Asagaya Station

This section, like the previous study case, is part of the ChĹŤo Line. The railway has been constructed prior to the urban tissue that surrounds it, yet the buildings abut the elevated structure on almost the whole section from Koenji to Asagaya station. The reason behind that planning judgement is unknown and my goal is not to criticize it but rather to understand how ‘undertrack’ buildings can exist in such settings. Here, to merge the elevated infrastructure in the city, a new street has been created under the track, connecting Koenji to Asagaya station with a side street bordering the track from Koenji station for a few hundred meters.

This case also brings to light the transition between zones, shown in the first case. In fact, the first zone, which extends to the end of the half-buried mall, is the busiest of the sections and is composed mostly of retail or office buildings. The second zone extends from the mall to the perpendicular street cutting under the track. From the busiest to quietest, that zone consists of shops, restaurants, offices, and storage spaces. Finally, in the third zone the inside street extends under the structure to become a passage with storage spaces and parking lots on each side. By comparing the accessibility and functions found under the track, we should be able to define the best setting.

57

KOENJI STATION

ZONE 1

ZONE 2

ZONE 3

Fig. 18 Plan of the Chuo Line

Fig. 19 Inside street

Fig. 20 Side street during the day

Fig. 21 Side street at night

Fig. 22 Perpendicular street access

Fig. 23 Section 1

Fig. 24 Section 2

Fig. 25 Section 3

Fig. 26 Section 4

Fig. 27 Koenji axonometry

Shops, Offices, Storage

Parking space, Storage

Restaurant Shopping mall

Shops, Restaurants

Inside street’s access

Fig. 28 Koenji deconstructed axonometry

Deductions SIDE STREET or PERPENDICULAR STREET – As seen from the drawings, the southern part of the line is bordered by a side street while the northern part is accessible through perpendicular lanes.

The side street seems like a better option both for the ‘undertrack’ activities and the neighbouring buildings: not only does it offer easier accessibility and better visibility to the functions under the track, but it also enables adjacent buildings to take a step back from the structure, reducing noise and vibrations and allowing more light in.

Besides, on the street bordering the track, restaurants and shops on the opposite side of the railway can sometimes be found, meaning that the ‘undertrack’ buildings act as a kind of commercial and social magnet. On the other hand, on the perpendicular streets, activity seems to struggle to diffuse outside the railway perimeter.

UNDERTRACK STREET – The intention here is not to blame the existing urban setting, but rather to understand how we can take advantage of it. In this case, when the ‘undertrack’ spaces are not accessible through an adjoined street, an inside street is created. This inside street is accessible through the extension of the existing city grid and it is used both to access the ‘undertrack’ facilities and to cross from one side of the line to the other. This way it becomes a prolongation of the actual street network. Besides, the functions hosted from the first to the third zone are respectively restaurants, shops, offices, service facilities, vending machines, storage and parking buildings. Therefore, it offers new rental ground in the high valued first and second zones and it provide plots for necessary but unwanted buildings (storage, parking, etc.) in the third zone.

In other words, from the exhibition of this section, we can argue that a side street is favourable both for the ‘undertrack’ buildings, as it increases their visibility and accessibility and for the neighbouring houses as it enables more light and air in, and reduces noise and vibrations. Anyhow, in situations where the construction of a bordering street is impossible, an inside street will allow for access and usage of the space under the track. Not only will the utilization of space increase the rail company’s income, but they also improve the image of the rail in the residents’ eyes. Indeed, because of their national scale, when unoccupied, the elevated railways seem to cross land with little interest 64

about their impact on local scale. The utilization of ‘undertrack’ space enables the inhabitants to give the structure a meaning on the local scale, and therefore to accept it better as part of the surrounding.

65

Fig. 29 Kanda Fureai street along the Yamanote Line

Case study 3

Multi-layered infrastructure

Between Kanda station and Akihabara station

This case exposes the planning strategies that lead an elevated infrastructure to completely merge with the urban fabric.

Located east of the imperial palace, Kanda is one of Tokyo’s oldest neighbourhoods. Therefore, the construction of the elevated railways led to the destruction of some blocks, houses, etc.

Having to cut through existing buildings, the companies bought a wider stripe of land than needed, in order to flank the elevated structure with two streets giving access to the newly created plots27.

3

At first, the railway company (JR) used the spaces below the structure mainly for storage and rail related buildings. Then, with the growth of the rail network and the raising number of passengers, the area around the stations became more vivid, leading shop owners and businessmen to grow interest in it. However, with the war, bombings and economic suffering, these central ‘undertrack’ spaces became the focus of black market activity. It is only around the 1960’s that JR formalized the usage of the space under their tracks, signing leasing contracts with tenants. Since then, the Kanda viaduct has been hosting different bars, restaurant, entertainment facilities, offices, etc.

27 For more information, please refer to A. Snapir’s research, Inhabited viaduct architecture of Tokyo, 2012, p 93 – p 127

67

UO

YAMANO TE LINE

CH AI M N LI N E

YASUKUNI DORI

TOH

OK U JO

ETS US HIN

KAN

SEN

ORI

OD CHU Fig. 30 Plan of the elevated railways North of Kanda Station

Fig. 31 Storage and Parking

Fig. 32 Undertrack shortcut

Fig. 33 Undertrack golf practice

Fig. 34 Side street during the day

Fig. 35 Section 1

Fig. 36 Section 2

Fig. 37 Kanda axonometry

Entertainement facilities, Restaurants, Parking, Offices

Two stories shops, restaurants

Covered street

Entertainement facilities, Restaurants Fig. 38 Kanda deconstructed axonometry

Storage, Parking

Deductions In the previous case, the city organized itself around the existing rail network and eventually the companies used the ‘undertrack’ spaces, seeing financial profit in it. For this case, on the other hand, a dense urban fabric existed prior to the construction of the rail.

Therefore, for the elevated structure not to act as a barrier, the project’s developer had to take account of the existing streets, blocks, etc. Three different actions led to the success of the project: THE CONTINUITY OF THE URBAN GRID – When built, the construction plans considered the existing street network, allowing it to flow under the track. This important decision is the major characteristic that fosters its integration in the city. Indeed, most existing streets have been extended under the lines and it is their intersection with each other that generated the ‘undertrack’ plots. As a consequence, when one walks the streets of this neighbourhood, the elevated railway is not perceived as a physical or visual barrier.

ACCESS – The side streets, which border the elevated tracks, are mostly frequented by pedestrians. This setting enables the ‘undertrack’ activities to benefit from a continuous flow of potential customers, as it links Kanda station to their office or apartment. What is more, they offer high visibility and easy access to all functions, and also put a distance between the bordering buildings and the viaduct, allowing light and air to flow in freely and to reduce noise and vibrations.

DIFFERENT SPATIALITY – The Kanda viaducts consist of three different railways, each one having its specific design. The structures, which vary from an arch brick construction to a concrete post and beam structure, generate different types of space: some high, wide, bright and easily accessible spaces and some less qualitative.

Although this might appear as a negative effect of the elevated structure for most people, as A. Snapir noted in his thesis, it can be beneficial for some users and the ‘undertrack’ activity. Indeed, the different quality led to different rents, which facilitated the establishment of small businesses in central areas of the city. In turn, the installation of new enterprises encourages competition, as old businesses strive to keep their shops in the best shape (2012).

74

Although the elevated railroad has been superimposed on the existing neighbourhood of Kanda, it succeeded merging with the urban fabric thanks to the continuity of the street grid. The variety of functions, their visibility and access also led the elevated structure not to be perceived or act as a scare and barrier in the city, but rather as a social and economic catalyser. If we use K. Lynch’s descriptive method of a city, what could be considered as an edge in the beginning, has been transformed into a linear node.

75

Fig. 39 ‘Ame Yoko’ along the Yamanote Line

Case study 4

Shopping track

Between Ueno station and Nakaokachimachi station

Because Ueno station is one of the busiest in Tokyo, its zones of radiation are larger than usual. Therefore, this case depicts only the first zone, characterized by an intense commercial and social activity.

As in Kanda’s case, this elevated track has been built on an existing district.

Yet Ueno used to be a part of the low city, strictly speaking a working class area, which is probably one reason explaining the discontinuous city grid under the structure. Nevertheless, for the same reason than in the previous case, the place was converted into a black market by the end of WWII and the location was reputed unsafe until the rail company decided to turn the area into a formal market, known today as “Ame yoko”.

Nowadays, the ‘undertrack’ spaces are occupied on two stories by shops, restaurants and bars. Some shops use two floors, while the others take place in a large horizontal open space divided by many pillars, in which case, the second floor is used as rental storage spaces, public toilets, or machinery for the building bellow. Thanks to the stalls and lighting installations going over the pedestrian side streets and the merchants’ voice calling for the best offer, this central area of Tokyo is transformed into a striving open air market, making one forget the presence of the train track.

77

CHUO

DORI

UENO PARK

Fig. 40 Plan of the elevated railways South of Ueno Station

UENO STATION

Fig. 41 Side street

Fig. 42 Access hall of rental storage boxes

Fig. 43 Side street

Fig. 44 Activity flowing under the track

Fig. 45 Section 1

Fig. 46 Section 2

Fig. 47 Section 3

Fig. 48 Ueno axonometry

Storage or 2F of shops bellow

Two stories shops and restaurants.

Fig. 49 Ueno deconstructed axonometry

Rental storage spaces or public toilet

Machinery

Open shopping space where stores takes place between pillars

Deductions The history of this case is quite similar to the one of Kanda, as its success is certainly due to its accessibility (side and inside streets), high pedestrian attendance (proximity to the station) and variety of shops and activities (different quality of spaces and rents).

Nevertheless, Ueno has something more, a specific atmosphere, which, in my opinion, makes anyone forget the presence of the elevated track. This specific ambience is due to the following reasons: EXPANSION ON THE STREET – As you can notice from the pictures and the sections, the shops unfold on the streets, giving the surrounding its market feeling. To caricature the spatial organization, it seems that the ‘undertrack’ buildings are used as an organized storage for the clothing shops, a kitchen for the restaurants and a cold room for the food sellers, while the streets are reciprocally their exhibition window, food stalls and restaurant hall. This transforms a pedestrian street bordering an elevated railway in what seems to be an old, busy traditional market.

SMALL ALLEYS AND PASSAGES – As stated in the introduction of this case, the street network does not exactly expand under the track. Still, this break in the grid does not turn the elevated structure into a barrier. Indeed, numerous alleys enable pedestrians to sneak between the dense shops and cross the railway. Besides, these small passages give the area a maze-like feeling which can be both attractive and repulsive. Some will call it dangerous and other will hear the call for exploration in it. Personally I perceived it as enhancing the feeling of being in a local market and thus positively.

DIFFUSION OF THE FUNCTIONS – When looking at an eye-level picture token in the ‘Ame Yoko’, it is nearly impossible to distinguish on which side the elevated structure is, as the market atmosphere dominates the image of the area. This is due to the diffusion of the ‘undertrack’ functions on the opposite side of the street and even sometimes on perpendicular streets. The stalls, the vendors’ voices, the smells and lights come from both sides of the path, keeping the customers’ attention on the merchandise rather than the physical surrounding.

The attendance rate and wide expansion of the ‘undertrack’ functions around the structure prove that, as in Kanda’s case, the elevated infrastructure does not act as a barrier but rather, as an urban spine.

84

What is more, I think that this case is an example of how ‘undertrack’ buildings and activities can change one’s image of an elevated railway.

The shops found on both side of the pedestrian streets, all present physical and organizational similarities (stalls, protective canopy, noisy sellers, etc.) giving the area what K Lynch calls ‘imageability’.

The imageability of a location is “that quality in a physical object which gives it a high probability of evoking a strong image in any given observer” (K Lynch, 1960, p 9). This strong image takes over the presence of the elevated structure, which disappears in the urban fabric and becomes the background sound of the vivid market.

85

Fig. 50 Inside ‘2K540 Aki-Oka Artisan’ under the Yamanote Line

Case study 5

Covered village

Betwen Akihabara station and Okachimachi station

This final case study exposes a recent refurbishment project of an ‘undertrack’ space, open since 2011 between Okachimachi and Akihabara station. Based on the history of the area, which was recognized as the craftsmen district during the Edo Period, 2K540 Aki-Oka is a place for artisans to organize conferences, workshops, and sell their creations. Organized around an inside path and plaza, around fifty shops and cafe have been built, with void between each of them and the upper structure. Not only does this allow a fresh breeze to come through, but it also creates passages serving as entrances or exits.

Also, this void characteristic being found all over Tokyo’s constructions, the ‘undertrack’ buildings resemble any other edifice in the city.

This recent project of Koken architects and final case study differs from the previous one in many ways. Firstly, unlike the four previous section studied, the area is planned and thought of for its quality instead of profitability. Secondly, it has an introvert organization with most shops opening towards the inside street and just displaying windows on the side streets. Finally, the project works as a whole with a specific theme, no extension of existing exterior paths or roads intersecting it.

Through a comparison with the previous case studies, we should be able to judge the planning decision and prospect on the project’s future.

87

EXPRESSWAY NO .1 METROPOLITAN

KURUMAE-HASHI

DORI

Fig. 51 Plan of the elevated railways North of Okachimachi Station

Fig. 52 Inside street

Fig. 53 Inside plazza

Fig. 54 Side street

Fig. 55 Inside street

Fig. 56 Section 1

Fig. 57 Section 2

Fig. 58 2K540 Aki-Oka axonometry

Shops

Side entrance

Fig. 59 2K540 Aki-Oka deconstructed axonometry

Side entrance

Shops, Cafes

Plaza for conferences, exhibitions, workshops

Main entrance

Deductions This project has the particularity to have been thought of for its quality rather than profitability. This shift of priority seems to generalize as new ‘undertrack’ projects blossom around Tokyo. Railway companies invest in their land to build more qualitative project such as Asagaya Anime Street, the Blue Tamagawa Fitness club, 2K540 Aki-Oka, etc. in order to rejuvenate and improve their image. Because of their recent completion it is hard to define the urban consequences of these projects. Nevertheless, their high attendance rate suggests positive results. The 2K540 Aki-Oka is characterized by: QUALITY – There are various characteristics showing the shift of attention toward spatial quality. For example, the architects decided to detach the buildings from the structure in order to minimize the noises and vibrations and let the breeze come through. They also chose a white colour theme, making the area brighter and decorated the place with greenery. Having walked through a great number of ‘undertrack’ redevelopments, I personally think of this area as one of the most pleasant. Indeed, all these details works in favour of the rail’s image as the infrastructure transforms from a rough concrete viaducts to a bright construction sprinkled with greenery.

COMMUNITY - One particularity of the project, probably linked to the history of the area, is the desire to create a community. The first strategy implemented for this purpose was to develop the homogeneity of the functions and the architecture, which marks the difference between the outside, a grey corporate and residential area, and the inside, a white and small village of craftsmen. The introvert organization also fosters that community feeling, as most of the shops unfold towards the inside path, only displaying windows and greenery to the bordering streets. Finally, the same inner street is designed as a public space rather than a basic circulation hall: benches here and there enable the users to rest, a plaza hosts meetings, exhibitions and workshops and greenery sprouts between the buildings.

Although we can argue that this urban renewal attracts a lot of customers and has positive consequences to this day, the introvert design can seem confusing. Indeed, as shown in the previous case studies, side streets offer the ‘undertrack’ activities a better visibility and easier accessibility. They 94

also boost the surrounding activity, as with time they allow functions to spread outside the elevated structure, like in Ueno’s case. In this sense, this project expresses a will not to grow, and to remain a small community.

But then, maybe this will to create small and strong communities is a more sustainable way of designing ‘undertrack’ buildings?

95

Conclusion We have analysed five different cases in this chapter, each one supporting a specific characteristic of ‘undertrack’ utilization. The first exposes the variation of functions according to the context; The second enables to compare three type of access settings (side, inside and perpendicular streets); The third displays how the urban fabric and elevated infrastructure can coexist; The fourth explains the characteristics that makes elevated infrastructures nearly inexistent; And the fifth discloses the newest planning strategies in term of ‘undertrack’ buildings. Although all the locations developed lie in Tokyo, we can extract general factors that would promote the conversion of dark and negative ‘undertrack’ spaces into linear urban spine.

The first conclusion is that whether an elevated structure lies in a busy or quiet location, it is possible to benefit from it. Although the train tracks will always produce “negative externalities”, it is possible to diminish those and to improve the image of the rail. When we stop perceiving the infrastructure as a scare in the city, we start to imagine the possibilities that it offers. In a central area for example, ‘undertrack’ spaces could host offices, shops, entertainments or social facilities, etc. while in a more remote area, these spaces could serve as a covered street, a supermarket, a storage facility, etc. Whatever the function, if it is related to the surroundings, it will benefit both the rail company and the inhabitants. The rail enterprise’s profit will be both financial and social, as the ‘undertrack’ spaces will increase their incomes and improve the company’s image through the diversification of their services. The people’s benefit will be the integration of the infrastructure in the city, as the railway will have more than only negative effects on the surrounding and host numerous necessary functions.

The second conclusion is that for the ‘undertrack’ buildings to be the most efficient, the one concern to keep in mind is accessibility. As seen from the case studies, two schemes seem to be conceivable, a densely built surrounding allowing for nothing else than perpendicular access to the spaces (case 1 and 2) or a location enabling side streets to run along the elevated structure. It naturally follows that side streets are the best option for both to the elevated structure and the 96

surrounding edifices. Indeed, they provide the ‘undertrack’ buildings with an easy access and a high visibility, and they mark a distance between the noisy infrastructure and the inhabited constructions.

Nonetheless, if an elevated structure hovers in a densely inhabited zone, it will always be best for the rail company and the inhabitants to use the space, no matter in what way than to make it inaccessible. In those configurations, the covered street makes the usage possible.

The third conclusion is that to enhance the quality of the ‘undertrack’ spaces and abate the presence of the elevated structure, guidelines have to be set in order to confer the place a specific atmosphere.

Two case studies demonstrate different strategies that undercut the track’s presence: Ueno and 2K540 Aki-Oka. Concerning Ueno, the market atmosphere is transmitted thanks to the deployment of the functions, the stalls and canopies on both side of the bordering street, transforming it in a narrow passage. In 2K540 Aki-Oka on the other hand, the ‘undertrack’ space has been treated meticulously to give the customer the desire to stay, with bright light, seats, greenery, etc. In both case, whatever the design strategy, the atmosphere takes over the negative image of the rail, making one forget its presence.

With most cities growing endlessly, the problem of infrastructure in inhabited regions will occur more and more. Although I am not necessarily in favour of elevated infrastructure, some cities around the world already count many for economical or natural reasons. The advocacy here is to use the existing elevated structure to enhance local life, as it would benefit everyone. From the cases exposed in this chapter and the one I had the chance to walk through while living in Tokyo, I can assert without risk that it is best for the rail companies, the neighbourhood and the inhabitants to actively utilize the space under existing elevated structure.

97

4 CONCLUSION

This thesis investigated how Tokyo succeeded in overcoming some of its mass-transit infrastructure’s “negative externalities”.

First, it exposed the historical context in which the transportation network evolved, eventually leading in the primacy of the rail and its positive image. Then, through the comparison of cultural specificities of Japan and Europe, it explained why Japanese were more inclined to the planning, construction and existence of ‘undertrack’ buildings.

And finally, the exposure and analysis of five case studies brought to light the most important characteristics leading ‘undertrack’ buildings’ to overcome some of the infrastructure’s “negative externalities”.

Throughout history, political decisions fostered the primacy of the rail and its positive image. It is important to note that the efficiency of the rail and its positive image go hand in hand. Indeed, the positive image was gained thanks to new possibilities offered by the rail and its efficiency, which were incomparable to the road’s capabilities. In turn, the train companies encountered less opposition when planning and building new tracks, as they were perceived positively as a highway to modernity.

In other words, it is partially thanks to the positive image of the rail that 99

companies had the opportunity to build an efficient network, this efficiency strengthening in turn this positive image. As a result, the concretisation of the mass-transit infrastructure, that is to say the elevated railways, was accepted as part of the urban surrounding and this acceptation surely worked in favour of the existence of ‘undertrack’ buildings.

Although there is a rational explanation for the existence of such urban settings (the search for extra incomes), the rarity of ‘undertrack’ buildings in Europe proves that there is more than only an economical reason behind their existence. When we look deeper in the way Japanese perceive, apprehend and convert space, it becomes clear that they were more inclined to the presence of ‘undertrack’ buildings than Europeans.

As we have stated in the second chapter, our perception of space is shaped by our culture. For Japanese, it seems that some particularities of their society led them to consider area rather than line, to accept coexistence and evolution and to be more attentive to the particularities of the surrounding context.

All these cultural influences taken together nurtured the Japanese perception of space and by extrapolation enabled the existence of ‘undertrack’ buildings in Tokyo. Nonetheless, the sheer presence of constructions under elevated railway is not the answer to overcoming “negative externalities” of the mass-transit infrastructure. Indeed, not every function and not every configuration leads to an improvement of the surrounding. Let us consider, for example, a logistic building that occupies the whole space freed by an elevated train track in an active district. The elevated structure will still act as a physical and maybe social barrier and the ‘undertrack’ function, having no relation to the surrounding, will not abate the presence of track nor improve the image of the surrounding. In other words, for ‘undertrack’ buildings to best overcome some negative externalities of the railway hovering above them, three complementary strategies must be implemented: Think locally, access and atmosphere/community.

Although we have exposed many positive outcomes of the utilization of ‘undertrack’ spaces in the third chapter, the sheer fact that a wellplanned ‘undertrack’ buildings can act as social magnet should be enough to prove that they can tackle some “negative externalities” of the mass-transit infrastructure. Besides, the newfound trend to

100

design ‘undertrack’ buildings in Europe28 significantly proves that those types of edifices have positive outcomes on their urban surrounding.

3

28 EM2N’s project in Zurich, the ‘Light at the end of the tunnel’ project in London among others.

101

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Books • AVELINE, Natacha, La ville et le rail au japon, l’expansion des groups ferroviaires privés à Tokyo et Osaka, Paris, CNRSeditions, 2003.

• AVELINE, Natacha, GRIOLET Pascal, LUCKEN Michael, La diversication des compagnies ferroviaires privees a Tôkyô, Japon Pluriel, Piquier, Actes des colloques de la Societe Française d’Etudes Japonaises, p429-439, 2004.

• BERQUE Augustin, Ecoumène : introduction à l’étude des milieux humains, Paris, Editions Belin, 2000.

•GRAHAM, Stephen, MARVIN, Simon, Splintering urbanism networked infrastructures, technological mobilities and the urban condition, Oxon, Routledge, 2001.

• HAYASHI, Takeshi, The Japanese experience in technology, Tokyo, United Nations University Press, 1990.

• J. ERICSON, Steven, The sound of the whistle: Railroads and the state in Meiji Japan, Cambridge, Harvard University Asia center, 1996.

• KUROKAWA Kisho, Each one a hero: the philosophy of symbiosis, London, Kodansha Amer Inc, 1997.

• LOUIS Frederic, Le Japon: Dictionnaire et Civilisation, Paris, Editions Robert Laffont S.A., 1996.

103

• LYNCH, Kevin, The image of the City, Cambridge, The MIT PRESS, 1960.

• NAMIAS, Olivier, MOTOOKA, Nobuhisa, QUERRIEN, Gwenaël (dir.), Portrait de ville Tokyo, Paris, Cité de l’architecture et du patrimoine, 2014.

• SAMSON, George, A History of Japan to 1334, Redwood City, Stanford University Press, 1958.

• SHELTON, Barrie, Learning from the Japanese city looking east in urban design, second edition, Oxfordshire, Routeledge, 2012.

Magazine articles • AOKI Eiichi, “Dawn of Japanese Railways”, in: Japan Railway & Transport Review, Japanese Railway History 1, n°1, March 1994, Tokyo, EJRCF, p28-30.

• AOKI Eiichi, “Expansion of Railway Network”, in: Japan Railway & Transport Review, Japanese Railway History 2, n°2, June 1994, Tokyo, EJRCF, p34-37.

• KATO Shinichi, “Development of Large cities and Progress in Railway Transportation”, in: Japan Railway & Transport Review, Japanese Railway History 7, n°8, September 1996, Tokyo, EJRCF, p44-48.

• WAKUDA, Yasuo, “Improvement of Urban Railways”, in: Japan Railway & Transport Review, Japanese Railway History 11, n°12, June 1997, Tokyo, EJRCF, p 46-49.

• KITAGAWA Daijiro, “Visual Aspect of Urban Railways in Paris and Tokyo during the Early Railway Period”, in: Japan Railway & Transport Review, Evolution of Urban Railway, n°23, March 2000, Tokyo, EJRCF, p 32-35.

• AOKI Makoto, “Central Tokyo”, in: Japan Railway & Transport Review, Railway operator in Japan 4, n°30, March 2002, Tokyo, EJRCF, p 42-53.

• AOKI Makoto, “Western Part of Greater Tokyo”, in: Japan Railway & Transport Review, Railway operator in Japan 6, n°32, September 2002, Tokyo, EJRCF, p 52-62.

Scholar Publications • SATO Masahiro, The formation of the Japanese Railway Network in the 1890s: The case of the Kōbu-Line, Institute of Economic, Research, 104

Hitotsubashi University, 2004 (first published in 1990).

• YING Jian Qian, The making of Japan’s railway systems – with a comparison with Britain, Departement of Regional Policy, Gifu university, Japan, 2009.

• SNAPIR Arnon, A research on the inhabited viaduct architecture in Tokyo Focusing on its contribution to the vitality of the city center (Tokyo University, Department of Socio Cultural Studies, School of frontier sciences, Master Thesis under direction of Dr. Hidetoshi Ohno, 2012) • WICART Nicolas, Tokyo Undertrack (Keio University, Faculty of Science and Technology, Almazan Studio Lab, Reseach under direction of J. Almazan, 2014)

Videos • FAURE, Damien, Milieu, Web Video (private access), Montreuil, aaa production, 2015.

• FAURE, Damien, Espaces Intercalaires, Web Video (private access), Montreuil, aaa production, 2012.

Websites • Religion Facts, website exposing general religion facts, http://www.religionfacts.com/compare/religions, website visited in March 2015.

• The Japan Buddhist Federation, website of the Japan Buddhist Federation, http://www.jbf.ne.jp/english/, website visited in March 2015.

• Pierro Scaruffi, Open source historical website, http://www.scaruffi.com/ politics/cars.html, website visited in April 2015.

Japan National Tourism Organisation, website of the JNTO, http://www. jnto.go.jp/eng/arrange/essential/overview/history.html, website visitied in April 2015.

• Japan Railway & Transport Reviewer, website of JRTR, http://www.jrtr. net, website visited in April and July 2015.

• Statistic Bureau, Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication, Statistic of Japan, http://www.stat.go.jp/english/, website visited in March, June and July 2015.

• Périphérie, litterature and philosophical news website, http://www. peripheries.net/article184.html, website visited in May 2015.

• Journal of Transport and Land Use, Website of the JTLU, https://www. jtlu.org/index.php/jtlu/article/view/280/201, website visited in June 2015.

105

• Espace Temps, unformal social science website, http://www.espacestemps.net/articles/regards-japonais-sur-espace-domestique-parisien/, website visited in June 2015.

• Journal Libération, Interview of Augustin Berque, http://www.liberation.fr/week-end/2001/08/25/la-culture-japonaise-fait-de-lanature-la-source-de-l-ordre-social_375212, website visited in July 2015.

• Architonic, Ressource for Design and Architecture’s website, http:// www.architonic.com/ntsht/viaducts-new-urban-encounters/7000516, website visited in July 2015.

• Japan Talk, Japanese guide website, http://www.japan-talk.com/, website visited in June 2015.

• The Japan Times, the Japan Times website, http://www.japantimes. co.jp/news/2014/05/19/national/new-shops-blossom-tokyos-tracks/#.

VcOCu2DEalk, website visited in July 2015.

• EM2N, EM2N’s website, http://www.em2n.ch/projects/viaductarches, website visited in July 2015.

• Crossriver Partnership, LET project’s brochure, http://crossriverpartnership.org/media/2014/09/LET-Transforming-railway-viaducts-in-centralLondon.pdf, website visited in July 2015.

List of Illustrations FIG. 1 Map of the elevated railway in Tokyo, SNAPIR Arnon, A research on the inhabited viaduct architecture in Tokyo Focusing on its contribution to the vitality of the city center (Tokyo University, Department of Socio Cultural Studies, School of frontier sciences, Master Thesis under direction of Dr. Hidetoshi Ohno, 2012) p 64.

FIG. 2 Map of Tokyo locating the case studies, Nicolas Wicart, July 2015 FIG. 3 Rhizome city diagram, WICART Nicolas, Tokyo Undertrack (Keio University, Faculty of Science and Technology, Almazan Studio Lab, Reseach under direction of J. Almazan, 2014) FIG. 4 Plan of the Chuo Line, Ibid.

FIG. 5 Zone 1, High density commercial mall, Ibid.

FIG. 6 Zone 2, Car and bicycle parking, shop, Ibid.

106

FIG. 7 Zone 2, Low density theme mall, Ibid.

FIG. 8 Zone 3, Storage space, parking, Ibid.

FIG. 9 Section 1, Chuo Line, Asagaya Station, Nicolas Wicart, August 2015 FIG. 10 Section 2, Chuo Line, Asagaya Station, WICART Nicolas, Tokyo Undertrack (Keio University, Faculty of Science and Technology, Almazan Studio Lab, Reseach under direction of J. Almazan, 2014) FIG. 11 Section 3, Chuo Line, Asagaya Station, Ibid.

FIG. 12 Section 4, Chuo Line, Asagaya Station, Ibid.

FIG. 13 Asagaya Axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 14 Asagaya deconstructed axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 15 Asagaya deconstructed axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 16 Asagaya deconstructed axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 17 Koenji Inside Street, Ibid.

FIG. 18 Plan of the Chuo Line, Ibid.

FIG. 19 Inside street, Ibid.

FIG. 20 Side street during the day, Ibid.

FIG. 21 Side street at night, New York Time picture, http//graphics8. nytimes.com/images/2008/12/28/travel/28surfacing600, website visited in July 2014.

FIG. 22 Perpendicular street access, WICART Nicolas, Tokyo Undertrack (Keio University, Faculty of Science and Technology, Almazan Studio Lab, Reseach under direction of J. Almazan, 2014).

FIG. 23 Section 1, Chuo Line, Koenji Station, Ibid.

FIG. 24 Section 2, Nicolas Wicart, July 2015.

FIG. 25 Section 3, Chuo Line, Koenji Station, WICART Nicolas, Tokyo Undertrack (Keio University, Faculty of Science and Technology, Almazan Studio Lab, Reseach under direction of J. Almazan, 2014).

FIG. 26 Section 4, Chuo Line, Koenji Station, ibid.

FIG. 27 Koenji axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 28 Koenji deconstructed axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 29 Kanda Fureai street along the Yamanote Line, Jon Lenzmeier, January 2014, www.flickr.com.

FIG. 30 Plan of the elevated railways North of Kanda Station FIG. 31 Storage and Parking, WICART Nicolas, Tokyo Undertrack (Keio University, Faculty of Science and Technology, Almazan Studio Lab, 107

Reseach under direction of J. Almazan, 2014).

FIG. 32 Undertrack shortcut, Ibid.

FIG. 33 Undertrack golf practice, Ibid.

FIG. 34 Side street during the day, Ibid.

FIG. 35 Section 1, Tohoku Joetsu Shinkansen, Yamanote Line, Chuo Main Line, Kanda Station, ibid.

FIG. 36 Section 2, Tohoku Joetsu Shinkansen, Yamanote Line, Chuo Main Line, Kanda Station, ibid.

FIG. 37 Kanda axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 38 Kanda deconstructed axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 39 ‘Ame Yoko’ along the Yamanote Line, Ibid.

FIG. 40 Plan of the elevated railways South of Ueno Station, Ibid.

FIG. 41 Side street, Ibid.

FIG. 42 Access hall of rental storage boxes, Ibid.

FIG. 43 Side street, Ibid.

FIG. 44 Activity flowing under the track, Ibid.

FIG. 45 Section 1, Yamanote Line, Ueno Station, Nicolas Wicart, August 2015 FIG. 46 Section 2, Yamanote Line, Ueno Station, WICART Nicolas, Tokyo Undertrack (Keio University, Faculty of Science and Technology, Almazan Studio Lab, Reseach under direction of J. Almazan, 2014).

FIG. 47 Section 3, Yamanote Line, Ueno Station, Ibid.

FIG. 48 Ueno axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 49 Ueno deconstructed axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 50 Inside ‘2K540 Aki-Oka Artisan’ under the Yamanote Line, Ibid.

FIG. 51 Plan of the elevated railways North of Okachimachi Station, Ibid.

FIG. 52 Inside street, Ibid.

FIG. 53 Inside plazza, Ibid.

FIG. 54 Side street, Ibid.

FIG. 55 Inside street, Ibid.

FIG. 56 Section 1, Yamanote Line, Okachimachi Station, Ibid.

FIG. 57 Section 2, Yamanote Line, Okachimachi Station, Ibid.

FIG. 58 2K540 Aki-Oka axonometry, Ibid.

FIG. 59 2K540 Aki-Oka deconstructed axonometry, Ibid.

108