Francisco Bay area in the United States (see illustration on pages 178 and 179). This trumpet bell-shaped tension structure lifts the natural and usable environment upward in a series of stacked landscapes, with neighborhoods replacing traditional floor plates. It is more of an ecosystem than an architectural habitat, and inside its vast enclosure the designer would be challenged to create a new universe within a man-made world. We might do well to consider such future habitats, which should probably be described more accurately as metastructures – not one large whole, but structures within structures, communities with thousands upon thousands of disparate cultural and individual needs, unified only by a single, shared roof or structural framework and boundary in space. The issue, then, is not about designing at a larger scale; rather, it is about designing smaller and at the human scale, within colossal environments.
So how will we make people comfortable in surroundings and settings where people don’t have to contend with the unpredictability of nature? How does an environment that entirely excludes the outside world create design equivalents for the variety of sensory stimulation we need and expect from nature? Can we place a neighborhood under a single roof, as a completely internal entity, and still call it a neighborhood? How do we support someone on an individual level when they are merely
Constant Nieuwenhuys, New Babylon project, 1963. This visionary project was one of the first attempts to articulate and design a gigantic structure that would house whole populations under one roof. Nieuwenhuys proposed gathering under one roof (with the aid of moveable elements) shared residential clusters and nomadic camps of a planetary scale. The structures were conceived as being ever expandable and growing across the landscape, over national boundaries and across the oceans. Though Nieuwenhuys’ vision was utopian rather than practical, it nevertheless represents the attempt to imagine a future in which urban space would become entirely interior space, and where occupants’ identities would become synonymous with the space that they transported with them.
The Shimizu TRY 2004 Mega-City Pyramid is a proposed project for the construction of a massive pyramid over Tokyo Bay. If built, Interior design ideas for bathroom this structure would be more than 6,500 feet (2,000 meters) high – 12 times higher than the Great Pyramid at Giza. The pyramid would house some 750,000 people. Accommodating a multitude of community amenities such as hospital/wellness facilities, schools/colleges, entertainment, office, and residential, this structure would contain a unique ecosystem and transportation systems. This self-contained, under one roof, neighborhood would help aid Tokyo’s increasing lack of space, by accommodating ^ of greater Tokyo’s population. It is so large that it cannot be built with currently available technology or materials, due to their weight. Its design relies on the future availability of superstrong lightweight materials based on carbon nanotubes.
One among thousands in an internal megalopolis? How do we individuals retain a sense of dignity, ownership, and pride in structures where individual and communal spaces are stacked horizontally and vertically? How will we cope with compounded questions of privacy, security, and safety that are well beyond the experience of our current urban environs and densities? Do we lose sight of individual needs altogether when they are subsumed within a single gigantic mass?
Given the likely possibility of megastructures in our future, it is also worth considering how such a scenario shapes our definition of design and the interior, when the contrast between inside and outside as we know it has been completely altered. Where the fulfillment of refuge, exploration, and delight, and considerations of the private and public space are profound aspects of the external world and may be so removed from the