The art of Chindogu

Scientists, inventors and designers have been registering their ideas with the world’s patent
offices for more than 150 years, and many of their greatest inventions have shaped the
modern world and the way we live in it. Can you imagine, for example, life without the
internal combustion engine, the television or the mobile phone? Unless you’re living in a cave
in the middle of nowhere, the chances are that your answer will be a resounding ‘No way!’

However, head for Japan, and you might come across some inventions that have never
enriched, nor indeed will ever enrich your life. Take, for example, the technological wonder
that is the electric revolving fork. Stick the end of this into a bowl of noodles or pasta, press
a button and watch the prongs rotate, collecting the slippery food as they do and thus saving
you the inconvenience of turning the cutlery yourself. Then there’s the ‘drymobile’.
Basically, this is a clothes rack that you attach to the roof of your car: after doing the
washing, hang your wet clothes on it, go for a drive and, ten minutes later, your trousers and
shirts are ready to wear. Or how about duster slippers for the cat? (1)

These and about 500 other unlikely devices form part of a Japanese concept known as
Chindogu, the art of inventing everyday gadgets that, on the face of it, seem like an ideal
solution to a particular problem. Literally translated, Chindogu means 'unusual tool'. (2)

Unlike other, more practical inventions, however, Chindogu has a distinctive built-in feature:
anyone actually attempting to use one of these inventions would find that it caused so many
new problems, or such significant embarrassment, that effectively it has no utility
whatsoever. (3)

Take, for example, the noodle fork. As demonstrated by Kawakami himself, it does a
wonderful job of picking up noodles. However, in the process, the user is sprayed with sauce,
meat and other detritus which flies off the rapidly revolving prongs. Then there’s the
drymobile: provided it doesn’t rain, it does get some of the dampness out of your clothes.
Unfortunately, you get back home to discover that half of them have blown away, and what
remains is dirtier than ever. And what about those cat slippers? (4)

According to Kawakami, there are several key tenets to bear in mind when designing a
Chindogu. Principally, it has to be possible to make, and indeed must have been made, in
spite of its absurdity, and it has to remain in the public domain (i.e. it cannot be given a
patent). (5)

There is frequently humour in a Chindogu, of course, but this should properly be regarded as
incidental, rather than as an end in itself. And in spite of the stipulation that Chindogu
should not be used for satirical ends, Kawakami himself does appear to regard them as a kind
of antidote to consumerism and the Western obsession with making life as easy as possible.
(6)

People have related to Chindogu so much that there is a huge following worldwide, with
Chindogu societies in many countries. Members make and submit their own designs for the
appreciation of their fellows. In Europe it has even been heralded as a unique form of art.
One might wish to design Chindogu for a number of reasons. For example, to improve one’s
One might wish to design Chindogu for a number of reasons. For example, to improve one’s
mental sharpness, to develop them as an art form, or simply to revel in a purely creative act
without having to worry about utility or making money. Kawakami himself treats it as a
mental discipline which helps to hone his creativity for sales promotion and marketing
consultation.

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Here are the missing sentences:

He describes Chindogu as ‘invention dropouts’, anarchically brilliant ideas that have broken
free from the ‘suffocating historical dominance of conservative utility’.

The term was coined by Kenji Kawakami, a Tokyo-based sales promoter, inventor and writer
who first made the idea prominent in a series of popular bestselling books known collectively
as The art of Chindogu.

Well, they might just work if you can attach them to the reticent creature in the first place,
which frankly involves more effort than doing the job yourself.

Furthermore, it is not a tradable commodity – if a Chindogu designer accepts money for his
invention, he surrenders his ‘purity’ – and it must not be exclusively a vehicle for wit, or the
warped satirical worldview of the inventor.

Consequently, an enterprising inventor can sell his Chindogu design to the highest bidder,
while maintaining his dignity and integrity.

Attach these to your pet’s paws and watch him wander round the house, cleaning the floor as
he prowls his territory.

G
Thus, Chindogu are sometimes described as ‘unuseless’ – that is, they cannot be regarded as
‘useless’ in an absolute sense, since they do actually solve a problem, but in practical terms
they cannot be called ‘useful’.

Complete CAE CD-ROM © Cambridge University Press 2009