You can frame humanity's technological progress or prowess as a teleological march of “conveniencing” – that our existence is bound to the very tools that we make and serve in the act of doing something better, more efficiently.

But more and more, we as a species are questioning “at what cost?” – to the planet, to each other, to our own well-being?

To reference Japan, there are plenty of casual stereotypical observations on how it is the land of convenience: the place where many 1980’s and 90’s gadgets that made our lives more convenient emerged – whether these were invented or made in Japan (Walkman, Rice Cooker, Shinkansen...), as well as how convenience is incorporated into the built landscape – major Japanese metropolitans have convenient subways (conveniently-planned while arriving and departing with convenient frequency). Cities (and rural areas) seem to always have a konbini nearby (apparently there are 50,000 – which has a ratio to the Japanese population is like 1 store per 2,560 people) and of course, vending machines (over 5.5 million total – one for every 23 people).

“Shibuya vending row” (source: 25 October 2009, CCA 2.0)

This rather shallow narrative of Japan as being a place of convenience can quickly be shown its opposite with the history and traditions of Buddhism, where the inconveniences of monastic self-deprivation through asceticism are central.

As an aside, the term ‘aesthetics’ is often equivilated with ‘optics’: how certain actions or politics appear to a wider public. Or: how does a certain polity, policy, or way of thinking look or end up looking? The NYTimes podcaster Ezra Klein mentions the term frequently: “aesthetics of rationality”, “aesthetics of withdrawal”, “progressive aesthetics”. There seems to be a greater emphasis on discussions of creating “aesthetics” or the appearance of something.

More so, nothing else comes more prominently in my mind than the aesthetics of sustainability – which go hand in hand with convenience – or really inconvenience. A recent testimonial-like article in the BBC News discussed widespread use of single use plastic wrap in Japan and tied it to the very notion of convenience and consequential wastefulness or unsustainability. The author openly frets: “I worried that we were headed down the slippery slope of convenience that is contributing to the plastic crisis.” The opposite implication is that a world without single-use plastics may lead to inconveniences, but in the long-run may lead to a more sustainable society. In fact, the author “started buying more produce at mom-and-pop yaoya greengrocers in my area, where whole fruits like pineapples and vegetables such as potatoes and cucumbers are pre-measured on trays and sold without packaging” – an act that may even better support the local smaller-scale economy and even grow stronger community bonds. But while the appearance or aesthetics of inconvenience are amplified (“Japan's first zero-waste city Kamikatsu has a recycling rate of 80%” “Japan ranks second in the world behind Germany for plastics management”), inconvenient truths also emerge (“Japan is the largest exporter of plastic waste,” “two-thirds of Japan’s plastic waste is incinerated”). The point here is not to point out hypocrisy, since as the English idiom points out “Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones”.

プラスチック・グルスキー
“Plastic Gursky” (source: http://keiosuper.blog.fc2.com/blog-entry-39.html)

No, instead it is meant as segue to our favorite issue: architecture. The aesthetics of convenience and the ascetics of inconvenience collide inevitably when we speak of architecture and sustainability – whether we are talking about air conditioning, adaptive reuse versus new construction, or material selection and the use of virgin-origin versus recycled materials or the industry’s heavy use of plastics or other carbon-intensive materials. Oliver Wainwright had an article headlining architect Anne Lacaton’s quote on how ‘Demolition is an act of violence’, and praised architect Hiroshi Nakamura’s hotel at the Kamikatsu Zero Waste Centre (whose plan is also in the shape of a question mark. Someone should write an essay comparing it to Arata Isozaki’s Oita Fujimi Country Club titling it as “A Tale of Two Question Marks”) – which must have been a rigorous process of construction, but rewarding in the end.

Before this tirade goes too far: it is safe to assume that there will be an upward trend to “inconveniencing”. Already, myself, I opt to not drive or buy a car, and only use public transportation or bicycle in my daily life, and only ride, borrow, or rent a car when left with no other transportation option. I do not install an air conditioner, and instead open the windows – but have to contend with the inconvenience of outdoor noise or small bugs making through our screens during the summer. But these are not self-congratulatory aggrandizements, merely simple acknowledgements that are reflective of our current climatically-uncertain times. More people, especially from younger generations, will opt out of conveniences and even demand greater inconveniences for the greater good such as by demanding the curbing of oversea airplane flights and other fossil-fuel dependent industries. Students in architecture schools are actively demanding a better and more in-depth education in sustainable architectural design practices. These larger and smaller inconveniences have grown beyond aesthetics and are becoming a movement that fly in the face of convenience.