Having worked on Osaka’s iconic Umeda Sky Building and Kyoto Station under Hiroshi Hara, Dutch architectect Martin van der Linden is no stranger to designs themed around space. 

At a premium perhaps more in Tokyo than anywhere else in the world, space is an obvious necessity for architects, but van der Linden’s fascination goes beyond a practical concern. “Space is much more than the perceptual aspect of it,” he considers, “space is given to us as we move through it, without our bodies there is no space.” The formation of space through our own presence, our own need, is a pivotal conception, and one which is being forgotten here in the capital. 

“Architecture is space created for human activity. In Tokyo, and slowly in most other global cities, architectural spaces are being fragmented with a focus on revenue-generating activities instead.” With ever-shrinking apartments becoming no more than storage rooms, activities which once commanded their own spaces like eating and entertaining  are being outsourced from the home. From microwaves on convenience store countertops to beds in love hotels, the city is filled with what van der Linden calls "transitional spaces." “This fragmentation of space is a personal obsession of mine. We, living in Tokyo, move from transitional space to transitional space.”

It is left to architects, then, to redefine spaces, as the sculptors of the human experience of space as we know it.

“Space is much more than the perceptual aspect of it,” says van der Linden. “We are constantly bombarded with visual imaginary, wherever we look: advertisements on buildings and in trains, people are on their phones all the day, this dumbs down our other senses. The tactility of space like the coldness of a dry winter day, the smell of cut grass or petrichor, the sound of rain on the bedroom window are all elements that architects can take into their design.”

Extending space to encompass a more multi-dimensional experience was one of the goals for a project completed in tsunami-hit Tohoku. In the small town of Yamadamchi, van der Linden and his team designed a school hall and community center in an area with a long history with Holland going back to 1643. By including low ceilings, tactile walls and a window which filled the room with an orange glow late each afternoon, a unique space was created. “The ultimate goal of the project was to create a space that in some way could help in providing some comfort to the children having witnessed the trauma of the destruction of the tsunami.” While trends of open spaces and high ceilings may be fashionable, the focus on a world reactive to the needs of its inhabitants was key to this unusual design.  

It is this ability to sculpt an experience of space which drew a young van der Linden to the world of architecture: “As an architect you can create your own world. You could do this by just using your imagination and create a space that you could inhabit (even in your mind).” Tokyo, with its abundance of small spaces, preference for new-builds and growing land value presents a unique challenge in the architectural sphere. Creating worlds in narrow alleys and above car parks are just some of the extensions of this role.

Reflecting back on the shifting focus to revenue creation over residential consideration, van der Linden has often found himself as a moral arbitrator, providing the sought-after approval for those who want to profit from the spaces they own, but struggle with the admission. In his Opportunity Squared project, the client already had a plan for apartments topped with a penthouse, but: “[van der Linden] suggested a parking tower with the penthouse on top as that was exactly what the client wanted but was afraid to ask for—a hyper money-generating machine.” By breaking down the constraints of social image and expectations in instances such as these, the perceived power of an architect to approve concepts, and by extension values and priorities, is ever tested.

Not all projects in Tokyo are financially driven, however, as is highlighted by one of van der Linden’s favourite projects: the Tiny Home. Designed for two photographers who travel often, the home was on a narrow strip of land with a private passage, the perfect opportunity for a crafted private world. Thinking back to a recent exhibition he visited of philosophers and their remote writing spaces, he considered the necessity of such extremes, but found them lacking: “Remoteness is an illusion...architecture has the potential to create its own world. This is what I love about Tokyo,  this huge blanket of tiny spaces all owned by individuals with the  potential of creating their own tiny worlds.” Transferring this belief to the Tiny Home, he created a space with vertical gardens, glass panels and privacy in an open space. 

Privacy is a key element of residential builds, with few other elements determining the design quite as heavily. From rooms left entirely exposed to those wrapped around internal gardens, Tokyo encompasses all varying levels. It is a single extreme, however, which fascinates van der Linden. “As I mentioned earlier, architecture is space for human activities. The Glass House (1949) by Philip Johnson is an enclosure of these activities in its purest sense. Architecture that opens life up by letting the outside in and, at the same time, showing the life on the inside, outwards.” With our lives shared in the most minute of details on social media, with our meals, love lives and homes opened up to the world, he sees the glass house as “Facebook in 3D.” Yet very few would be willing to actually live in such a space — highlighting the importance we place of perceived privacy and the ability to select what we share, even if the concept of control in this field is becoming more and more distant as technology increases. 

The ability to create spaces so deftly attuned to the needs of the individual, be they bubbles of comfort or profitable penthouses requires a rare combination of skills. While you may be thinking of practicality and creativity, there is more to it than that: “I think being an architect is a combining chiromancy, engineering, aerobatics, economics and a bit of artistry,” says van der Linden, and given the examples, it is difficult to disagree. 

By Lily Crossley-Baxter 

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