The Tokyo Government Block Project, 1886-1890
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Envisioning the Baroque City: The Tokyo Government Block Project, 1886-1890 Takeshi Arthur Thornton A familiar way of describing realism in two-dimensional graphic art is to invoke the analogy of the mirror. The realist painter supposedly offers the viewer a mirror reflection of the external world, immediately and without distortion. Art theorists have long argued, however, that realism remains merely one kind of convention for rendering images and can lay no claim to being an especially accurate or direct means of representing reality. Ernst Gombrich, for instance, has drawn on percep tual psychology in order to challenge the notion of an ktinnocent eye'' (298) that could passively depict the external world on canvas; instead, he suggests that the artist “would tend to see what he paints rather than to paint what he sees” (86). Against the assumption that the beginning point of a visual record is ‘‘knowledge,’’ he posits that it is “a guess conditioned by habit and tradition” (89). Taking his cue from Gombrich, Nelson Goodman has proceeded to even stronger conventionalist conclusions, arguing that realistic representation t4is relative, determined by the system of representation standard for a given culture or person at a given time.... Realistic representation, in brief, depends not upon imitation or illusion or infor mation but upon inculcation.... If representation is a matter of choice and correct ness a matter of information, realism is a matter of habif' (37-8). Bearing in mind the skepticism shared by Gombrich and Goodman with regard to the mimetic claims of realism, I want to examine an ostensibly “realistic” land- scape painting that constitutes part of the historical record of the so-called Kancho shuchu keikaku ( 「官庁 集 中 計 画 」)or Government Block Project of 1886-1890. In brief, the Government Block Project was an urban reconstruction and embel lishment scheme proposed for central Tokyo as a way to demonstrate to the world Japan's emergence as a modem state. Owing to changes in political conditions much of the baroque-inspired scheme was abandoned in the planning stages. The landscape painting in question offers a speculative view of what that proposed complex might have looked like had it been built. The representation is not espe cially remarkable-it does not display any conspicuous virtuosity or artistry. But for reasons that will become sufficiently apparent, the representation invites, even 234 demands, the sort of conventionalist interpretation advocated by Gombrich and Goodman. Let me then set the stage for analyzing the painting by, firstly and briefly, reviewing the historical circumstances that gave rise to the Government Block Project, followed by a quick consideration of the principal elements of the scheme, as enumerated in the surviving plans and drawings. If any one catalyst can be said to have set in motion the process that led to the Government Block Project, it most assuredly was treaty revision. During the 1850s and 1860s, a series of unequal commercial treaties was imposed on Japan by the United States and several European powers, including Great Britain and France. Referred to collectively as the Ansei treaties, they placed foreign nationals resid ing in Japan under the legal jurisdiction of their own consuls (extraterritoriality), and denied Japan the right unilaterally to change the customs duties on foreign trade (tariff control). As early as 1871 the Iwakura mission, on a fact-gathering tour of the United States and Europe, enquired about the possibility of amending the treaties, only to be rebuffed by Western diplomatic officials, who adopted the line that their nationals should not be subjected to the rigors of the Japanese judi cial system, and that they were not prepared to abandon low tariffs on their imports without compensation. Seemingly interminable negotiations during the years to follow convinced Japan's ruling elite that unless their country's image abroad was improved, unless their country could demonstrate to the world that it was indeed civilized and enlightened, there was little hope of persuading the Western powers to relinquish their judicial and economic privileges. So began a period remembered for Japan's enthusiastic emulation of the West, a brief but col orful period that elicited many interesting efforts at state-sponsored Westerni zation, from the passing of new ordinances forbidding public nakedness and mixed bathing in public bathhouses, to the construction of a fanciful Victorian hall in central Tokyo where foreign dignitaries could be entertained. The history and poli tics of this time of flux are complex and fascinating, but for our purposes we need only note that matters stood thus in 1884 when the pro-Western Foreign Minister of Japan, Inoue Kaoru (1835-1915), put forward the idea of building a new, Euro- pean-style government complex in the heart of Tokyo. At that time, most of the offices of the Meiji government still occupied a makeshift cluster of former daimyo residences in and around the grounds of the imperial palace. This ad-hoc arrangement, while pragmatic, lacked the grandeur befitting Tokyo's new status as the national capital of an imperial power. Over in Europe, the preceding decades had witnessed Paris's sweeping transformation 233 from a medieval city of twisting streets and alleys—largely unchanged since the Middle Ages —into a showcase imperial capital boasting broad, straight avenues punctuated by monumental new administrative buildings, department stores, and railway stations. Not to be outdone, Vienna had replaced the line of fortification enclosing its old city with a broad annular boulevard, the Ringstrasse. And Barcelona had razed its defensive walls to make way for a ten-fold expansion in gridded land area. Even though we do not know for certain, we can assume that Inoue was at least superficially familiar with these developments in Europe. What better way to convince the West of Japan's assurance and authority as a modem state, he must have reasoned, than implementing an urban transformation program of Tokyo's own. Inoue's idea struck a responsive cord with the Japanese elite. Following the usual rounds of hopes and false starts, of bureaucratic bickerings and failed attempts to entice English architects to participate, in 188b the government invited Wilhelm Bockmann (1832-1902), partner in the respected Berlin architectural practice of Ende-Bockmann, to Tokyo to sign a contract for three important new buildings: the national Diet, the Ministry of Justice, and the Great Court of Cassation, the predecessor of today's Supreme Court. By any standard, the architect-engineer chosen for this historic mission was first-rate. A former president of the German Association of Architects, Bockmann had designed numerous public as well as private buildings in Germany, including banks, government offices and apartment houses (Horiuchi). At the same time that the German was invited, the government arranged for some 20 Japanese architects and technicians to train in Berlin. Arriving in Japan in April, Bockmann immediately began conducting extensive surveys of Tokyo. Armed with a camera and various maps, he and his assistant led numerous walks through the city documenting its various neighborhoods. By any criterion, Tokyo was already very large, housing perhaps a million inhabitants. Despite it size, however, the Japanese capital—with its densely built up areas of single-storey wooden homes alternating with extensive tracts of rice paddies and orchards-was probably closer in character to a European city of the Middle Ages than any contemporary European capital. For someone trained in the ways of Western urbanism as Bockmann was, Tokyo's cityscape must have seemed elu sive. Yet the picture was not as unpromising as it might at first have seemed. Unlike its metropolitan rivals in Europe and America, Tokyo boasted much open space for development: even central parts of the city were occupied by empty resi dential lots. These lots were often vacant daimyo estates that had become govem- 232 iv ment property after the collapse of the Tokugawa regime. Against expectations, therefore, late nineteenth-century Tokyo offered Bôckmann ample space to devel op his urban vision. In June, the German, accompanied by Inoue, submitted his tentative plans for the new seat for the imperial government to the Emperor. Western architecture was thus established on the political agenda, raised from being a matter of peripheral concern to the Japanese government to being an essential preoccupation of the state. Even by modem standards Bockmann's baroque plan1 is grand indeed. Inspired in part, no doubt, by Baron Haussmann's reconstruction of Paris under Napoleon ID, it aimed to remake an area of former daimyo estates encompassing roughly what is present-day Nagatacho, Kasumigaseki and Hibiya into a formal, symmetri cally-ordered urban space along European lines. Dominating the plan are a series of broad boulevards, some over 40 meters wide, that were to radiate from a new central railroad terminal just south of the present site of Yurakucho station, and leading eastward toward the ports and westward toward the government buildings, the palace, the Diet, and the prime minister's residence. At the head of Nippon Avenue, that was to form one-half of the principal axis of the new Tokyo, Bôckmann suggested placing an equestrian statue of the Emperor. Central Avenue, running at right angles from the station to Tsukiji Honganji Temple, was to form the other-half of the east-west axis. The Diet and the Hama Detached Palace were to be linked by Europe Avenue, and the police headquarters, the courthouse, the Tokyo metropolitan government, and a theater were to be built along Mikado Avenue. Restaurants, coffee shops, and a hotel were to be strategically located at the junction of Mikado Avenue, Empress Avenue and Nippon Avenue. And final ly, a new international port was to be built at the mouth of the Sumida River.