While not quite as famous eccentric as Dr. NakaMats, Tanaka is fondly known as “the Thomas Edison of Japan.” All things considered, he’d probably rather be known as “the Nikola Tesla of Japan”, but it is what it is. Anyway, this Tanaka guy is a pretty hoopy frood. Let me tell you why.

The Early Life

Tanaka was born in present day Fukuoka prefecture in 1799 and was the eldest son of a skilled tortoiseshell craftsman. Watching his father constantly working on these intricate tortoiseshell ornaments instilled a great sense of creativity in young Tanaka.

At the age of eight, Tanaka invented what he called an “inkstone case with a secret lock.” The drawer required a cord to be twisted in just the right way in order to open it. He brought it to school with him and challenged his classmates to open the drawer. Many tried but none succeeded.

By the age of fourteen, Tanaka had already invented a loom. He succeeded in weaving beautiful designs into fabric with his creation. Before this, the looms were too simple to create such intricate and beautiful designs. People were starting to recognize Tanaka’s potential.

At twenty, he was making autonomous dolls powered by hydraulics (karakuri dolls). Our good friend Hashi (lost but not forgotten) wrote about these little wonders a while back. They’re really quite fascinating.

[yframe url='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JV--AwLxiE']

These karakuri dolls were capable of relatively complex movements and were in high demand by the aristocrats, daimyo, and shogun. The style of the one in the video above is by far his most famous. Because Tanaka’s dolls were so impressive, he ended up performing all around Japan with them by the age of twenty-one.

Another interesting thing about the arrow shooting dolls of his was that some were actually programmed to miss one of its four shots. These dolls would make a happy motion when its arrow hit the mark and a look of sorrow when it missed. The video above doesn’t really highlight this, but just trust me on this one.

Since he was the eldest son, he was fated to take over the family business, but he convinced his father to let his younger brother take over things while he traveled around the country and pursued his dream of being an inventor. This is also about the time when people started referring to him as “the genius of mechanical wonders”.

Tanaka Hits His Stride

By his mid-thirties, mechanical doll shows had started to fall out of fashion so Tanaka relocated to Osaka where he tinkered with pneumatics, hydraulics, and various forms of lighting centering around canola oil. He invented the pocket candlestand (a portable candlestick that collapsed down to pocket size), and the long-burning lamp (an oil burning lamp with air-pressure pump fuel filler).

These long-burning lamps of his were roughly ten times brighter than a conventional candle and came with a glass globe to prevent flickering. Because of their incredible popularity, Tanaka went on to create seven different models. Tanaka catered to his customers’ needs and became both successful and popular as a result.

He later moved to Kyoto where he studied traditional Japanese mathematics, the calendar, and astronomy. While there, he invented a fire pump called “cloud dragon water” which used air pressure to shoot an adjustable stream of water up to thirty feet high. Like his lighting inventions, Tanaka went on to craft various iterations of this fire pump which were used for a wide variety of tasks.

[yframe url='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LgTSfY7A19k']

In his early fifties, Tanaka crafted what I believe to be his most impressive invention. He created the Myriad year clock. I’ve written about timepieces before, but this thing definitely takes the cake. It’s probably one of the most impressive clocks I’ve seen. It’s also been designated as a Important Cultural Property by the Japanese government.

The clock can show the time in seven ways (time of day, day of week, month, moon phase, Japanese time, Solar term) and consists of more than 1,000 parts which Tanaka made all by himself with the simplest of tools. It took more than three years for him to finish the assembly.

In 2004 the Japanese government attempted to craft a replica of Tanaka’s masterpiece. It took more than 100 engineers over six months to build it. Even so, they found it impossible to make exact copies of some parts which just goes to show how impressive an accomplishment the original was for Tanaka.

Since clocks are so awesome, crafting and innovating them around this time was considered one of the most impressive things an inventor could do. Tanaka produced many other ingenious mechanical timepieces such as the pillow clock and drum clock. He also created Japan’s first planetarium.

With the development of the sonno joi (revere the emperor, expel the barbarians) movement (see Sakamoto Ryoma), Kyoto became increasingly dangerous for people involved with foreign technology and influences. Therefore, Tanaka ended up moving to Saga in Kyushu where he started inventing bigger, more dangerous creations.

Tanaka’s War Machines

In Saga, Tanaka designed and built Japan’s first domestically made steam locomotive and steam warship. This is a pretty big change from dolls and clocks, but Tanaka had reference to a Dutch book on the matter and had also watched a Russian demonstration of a steam engine in Nagasaki. Even with this limited exposure to steam powered vehicles, Tanaka and his crew were able to build these massive machines. Pretty impressive.

He also did some work leading to the creation of a specialized furnace for casting iron in Saga which was used for producing Armstrong guns (see above). In his mid-sixties, he returned to his stomping grounds in Fukuoka prefecture and assisted in the development of various modern weapons.

While there, he also invented a vast array of non-weaponized inventions. These included a machine for irrigating fields at high elevations and Japan’s first artificial ice maker.

Old Age and Death

Six years after the Meiji Restoration and at the ripe old age of seventy-four, the spritely Tanaka was invited to make telegraphs in Tokyo. He soon relocated to Ginza, renting the second floor of a temple in what is now known as Roppongi.

This measly workshop of his eventually involved into his first and only company, Tanaka Engineering Works. This company was the first manufacturer of telegraph equipment in Japan.

In 1881, Tanaka died of old age at eighty-two. His son then took over Tanaka Engineering works. The name was changed to Shibaura Engineering Works in 1904, merged with Tokyo Denki in 1939, and then became known as Tokyo Shibaura Denki. More commonly, though, it was known as Toshiba. Tokyo Shibaura Denki. Get it?

Toshiba and Tanaka’s Legacy

Today Toshiba is a multinational engineering and electronics conglomerate with over 200,000 employees. Its products and services include information technology, communications equipment and systems, electronic components and materials, power systems, appliances, infrastructure systems, medical and office equipment, lighting, logistics, and laptops. They don’t make telegraphs anymore, though.

[yframe url='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNBI1P4E388']

Google even made this in memory of the guy.

Even though it doesn’t carry the Tanaka name, Toshiba is still a living testament to the man that started it all, much like Thomas Edison and General Electric in the United States. He even got his own room in the Toshiba Science museum.

So tell me, how do you think Tanaka here stacks up to the likes of Edison? Does he deserve to be called the “Thomas Edison of Japan”? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Bonus Wallpapers

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Sites Referenced:
Toshiba Museum
Wikipedia

One of Japan’s biggest needs has been space. Japan is a pretty small country with a lot of mountains and a ton of people. These factors together sometimes limit what Japan can do with what land it has.

So what do the Japanese do? They make more space by creating artificial, man-made islands. Unlike the crazy extravagant artificial islands of Dubai, most of Japan’s man-made islands are actually quite functional.

Before I go any further, I know that you have a serious, burning question you need to ask. Fortunately, our friends over at Ask.com have answered it for us:

Dejima【出島】

Surprisingly, Japanese artificial islands have been around for hundreds of years. You’d expect that artificial islands would require giant diggers, barges, and other mechanized monstrosities, but people still somehow managed to make man-made islands in the days before the industrial revolution.

Take Dejima, for example. Created in the 1600^s Dejima, located in Nagasaki, was one of Japan’s first artificial islands.

Way back in the day when Japan was more than a little distrustful of foreigners, they kept interaction with the outside world at the absolute bare minimum. Trade and visitation were severely limited to everybody outside of Japan for about 200 years.

Artist’s depiction of Dejima around the 1800s

Those foreigners who were allowed to come to Japan were kept at arm’s length. The shogunate wanted one dedicated place where foreigners could trade in Japan, and decided to create Dejima to be that place.

You know the kid who was always picked last for kickball in school? Dejima is like that times a million. The Japanese think that you’re so icky that they built an island just so they don’t have to deal with you?

That’s cold.

Artist’s depiction of Tokugawa Japan

Eventually, Japan got over its whole fear of foreigners, and there wasn’t really a need for Dejima anymore. Nagasaki grew, caught up with Dejima, and eventually absorbed it into the city.

Nowadays, Dejima has been lost within Nagasaki; but the Japanese government has declared Dejima historical site and are working on figuring out its exact location in Dejima and restoring it to its original state.

Odaiba【お台場】

Odaiba, like Dejima, is an artificial island that was built because of scary, scary foreigners. After Commodore Perry rolled up on Japan and told the Japanese to come out of isolation or else, the shogunate decided to prepare for the worst. A series of gun batteries were built in Tokyo Bay to defend the city from any potential attacks.

The attack from the outside never came, and the islands fell into disuse until the 20^th century. Local government gradually repurposed and built upon these islands, transforming them from old, unused gun batteries into places where people live, work, and play.

Since Odaiba has sprung to life, it’s gained its own character. Odaiba houses the iconic Fuji Television building, and has a bunch of tourist attractions. A miniature replica of the Statue of Liberty overlooks Tokyo Tower, and a giant Gundam has attracted flocks of otaku to Odaiba for over two years.

A Gundam isn’t quite what the shogunate had in mind when they built Odaiba to house weapons, but hey, it’ll do.

Kansai Airport【関西国際空港】

As impressive as artificial islands like Dejima and Odaiba are, they pale in comparison to Kansai International Airport (KIX). The construction of KIX is an engineering marvel built at the peak of the Japanese economic powerhouse of the mid 20^th century.

The city of Osaka wanted a first-class international airport, but couldn’t make it happen by conventional means. Osaka didn’t have the space, and building an airport in the middle of the city would have caused a ton of noise pollution and myriad safety issues.

So what did Osaka do? It built an island.

Construction started in the late 80^s and, through years of work, tons and tons of landfill, and $20 billion, Kansai Airport opened in 1994. Its creation wasn’t without problems, though.

Kansai Airport’s designers grappled with the problem of sinking. Even after you’ve created a man-made island, you still have to deal with the island sinking into the soft ground below it. Designers have dealt with this problem by adding more material into the island and fitting the buildings with hydraulic lifts to keep them level and elevated.

And, believe it or not, KIX has held up pretty well. It’s weathered typhoons and earthquakes, including the devastating 1995 Hanshin Earthquake.

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There are plenty more fake islands in Japan, but these are the ones that seemed most significant to me. Did I miss any? Which is your favorite? Let me know in the comments!

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I did a double take when I first saw that and had to re-watch it a couple of times. What is that thing?

Turns out, this mechanical monstrosity is named the Eco Cycle. It’s built by a Japanese company called Giken, whose biggest claim to fame is designing a pile driver that doesn’t cause the ground to vibrate or shake; think of it as the mechanical equivalent of those foam mattress commercials.

Eco Cycle is a giant underground bunker dug 55 feet (17 meters) deep into the ground, with a mechanical arm and sorting system.

[yframe url='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOokxGbyufM']

Once you’ve paid for your parking and pushed your bike into the bay, Eco Cycle gives you a card so you can come back and get your bike later. Pretty slick!

Space

Space is obviously at a premium in urban areas; and if there’s one city in the world that’s notorious for being short on space, it’s Tokyo. With 32 million people living in the city and surrounding regions, Tokyo is the most populated metropolitan area in the world.

Bearing that in mind, going underground makes a lot of sense. People tend to want to live and work above ground, so subterranean real estate is a lot more accessible and cheap to obtain.

Safety

Japan is known for its low crime rate, but there’s always a risk of having your bicycle stolen. And storing your bike in a giant underground robot bike factory is a safer than chaining your bike in front of a konbini.

Plus, if you’ve ever used your bike to commute, then you know how much of a pain it is to park your bike outside, then come back later to have the seat drenched by rain. This Eco Cycle fixes that, too by keeping your bike nice and dry underground.

For a better explanation of how it works and an inside view of Eco Cycle, check out this video from the NHK:

[yframe url='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vK9C9VtCypE']

Tofugu’s based in Portland, OR, so we see some pretty strange, customized bicycles around here. Given what some of these bikes look like:

Maybe those with tall bikes and customized children’s bicycles should look elsewhere.

P.S. Wish you could have one of these in your town? Follow us on Twitter.
P.P.S. Prefer the old-school methods of bicycle storage? Check us out on Facebook and Google+.

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“Fool of a Took!”

Trees grow as deep as they are tall, and lots of cities follow the same principle. Sewers, electric and communications cables, serving as a city’s arteries usually run as deep as the skyscrapers are tall. Tokyo, one of the largest cities in the world, is certainly no exception. Tokyo’s underground infrastructure spans miles underground in every direction, including miles and miles of underground tunnels that stretch as far as 30 miles away. What exactly are those tunnels for?

Nothin’ But a G-Can Baby

The official name of these long, underground tunnels is the “Metropolitan Area Outer Underground Discharge Channel” (首都圏外郭放水路), but is more commonly called G-Cans. In writing this post, I wasn’t able to figure out why exactly the project was called G-Cans, but knowing Japan, I can only guess that it’s some sort of crazy Engrish amalgamation. My best guess so far is “government can,” a phrase of immense inspiration and little sense.

Edit: Commenter Chris mentioned that it probably stands for gesuikanaru (下水カナル), or drainage canal.

G-Cans itself is something of a modern engineering marvel. The idea behind the project is pretty straight forward: divert all of the rainfall from typhoons, other storms, and floods away from cities and towns around Tokyo and release it all into the Edo River, where water can’t damage homes and other buildings.

Yes, that’s a truck.

How It All Works

The way G-Cans does this is pretty complicated. It directs the water through a series of giant containment silos that are big enough to each hold their own space shuttle. Not that will ever happen, R.I.P. space shuttle program :(((

From the silos, the water works its way through a series of tunnels and finally up to the giant room with columns you see at the top of this post. From there, massive engines power out 200 cubic meters or 53,000 gallons of water per second into the Edo River.

If you’re still having trouble envisioning how G-Cans works, don’t worry. Just take a look at the comic about a dragon-turned-government-employee and an angry storm cloud that the Japanese government created to educate children about G-Cans. If the well-crafted dialogue and sophistication of an imaginary, anthropomorphized creature talking to a cloud about a civil works project doesn’t help you out, then I don’t know what will.

What Makes It Cool?

While the idea behind the project itself is pretty mundane (“Move water from Point A to Point B”), G-Cans is still an extremely impressive sight to behold. You can almost imagine the project’s massive columns and high ceilings as being part of the ruins of some ancient civilization or a level from Half-Life.

The massive scale of G-Cans might even make you wonder if there are things lurking about in the deepest parts of the expansive tunnel work. Ninja Turtles? Molemen? The newest AKB48 team? (If you believe the people at Land Rover, it’s impatient jerks with expensive cars.)

You can even visit G-Cans yourself if your Japanese is good enough for the all-Japanese guided tour. There’s information about the tour on the organization’s website, including important details like “Conditions of Participate.” You can see the tour’s English-language website here, or if you don’t think you can go to Japan and have the necessary Japanese vocabulary to understand what the tour guide is talking about, check out this YouTube video of somebody taking a tour:

[yframe url='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3lUHB606U4']

If watching some anonymous Japanese tourist doesn’t suit your fancy, then maybe hip-hop mogul Pharrell Williams will do instead. Mr. Williams, in between producing sweet beats and rapping with the likes of Snoop Dogg, recently visited Japan in wake of the 3/11 disaster and filmed his visit. The result is the documentary “Tokyo Rising,” in which the Grammy-winning musician decided that visiting a flood control project would be a cool thing to do.

You can check out Pharrell visiting G-Cans in this video.

Are you an engineering nerd? Know what “G-Cans” means? Let me know in the comments.

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