Architecture of Threshold Spaces: A Critique of the Ideologies of Hyperconnectivity and Segregation in the Socio-Political Context 2021033106, 2021033107, 9780367680206, 9780367680213, 9781003133889

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
Illustrations
Acknowledgements
Preamble
Some contemporary tendencies of cities and their antecedents in the Modern period
The concept of Threshold
Focusing on thresholds with public space: an expression of social life
The political role of architectural space
Potential of threshold spaces
Notes
References
Part I: Thresholds: some theoretical background
1. Threshold spaces are singular spaces
What are threshold spaces?
Architecture as an array of spaces whose physical boundaries can be represented as envelopes
Threshold spaces adjacent to public space
Threshold spaces adjacent to semi-private space
The experience of passage through threshold spaces
Thresholds foster a non-objectifying perception of architecture
Visitors are affected by variations of experience
Unsettling threshold spaces foster both distracted perception and attention
Potential unity of the experience of threshold spaces
Notes
References
2. Threshold spaces express dialectics
Threshold spaces are singular and display tensions
Singular space
The social meaning of architecture
Tensions in the architecture of threshold spaces
Singular architecture with impact on people
Envelopes of spaces and effect on people
The impact of the architecture of the Yokohama Ferry Terminal on people: political meaning
Notes
References
3. Observations on Threshold spaces
Threshold Architecture enables agency
The emancipatory potential of architecture according to Critical Theory
What is the emancipatory potential of architecture?
Does Threshold Architecture, in particular, have emancipatory potential?
Applying the theory: key points for discussion in the following Parts
References
Part II: Thresholds of buildings of different functions
4. Thresholds in cultural architecture
Thresholds as major spaces in cultural architecture
The social impact of SESC Pompéia's vast threshold spaces
Design of exterior and interior museum thresholds
Siza's sculptural museum architecture
Odile Decq's design of thresholds for the MACRO in Rome
Decq's interiors as public space
Passages between and through envelopes
Decq's architecture of freedom, constraint, and negotiation
Negotiations creating political architecture, and the limits of the political meaning
Thresholds in SANAA's Museum of Contemporary Art in Kanazawa
Threshold space infuses the museum
The museum displays singular threshold spaces
Translucent partitions tend to erase the structure of spaces
Conclusion
Notes
References
5. Thresholds of services areas and retail shops
Thresholds between public space and service areas
The concept of Schaulager
Thresholds between service space and served space in markets
Retail shop thresholds
When retail shops enhance public space
Retail threshold space in an Australian Aboriginal community
The concept of Third Space
Notes
References
6. Thresholds in architecture for age-specific groups
Public buildings for youth and thresholds with public space
The integration of delinquent youth through links with public space
Two examples of Threshold Architecture in youth sports centres
An example of Threshold Architecture at a university
Threshold Architecture for the elderly
Threshold Architecture for traditional Aboriginal lifestyle spaces
Notes
References
7. Public space as threshold space
Public space as a space of negotiation
Thresholds of public space
Thresholds that enhance events in public space
An example of public space as a metaphor for the socio-political context
Public space as Thresholds in high-rise buildings
Public space in high-rises as threshold spaces
Thresholds enhance public space
Connection and separation
Fostering action and observation
Public space as threshold enhances the "publicness" of public space
Notes
References
8. Thresholds around semi-private Pockets in public space
Pocket Spaces in public space
Thresholds around open-air places of debate
Pocket Space for a community in public space
Pocket Spaces enhancing the publicness of public space
Threshold space around domestic-related amenities
Cooking and eating spaces
Other domestic-related Pocket Spaces in public space
Thresholds for people in need of housing support
Political implications of sharing amenities in public space
Notes
References
Part III: Constraints to the existence of thresholds and proposals of resistance strategies
9. Thresholds in the context of security strategies
The architectural impact on thresholds from protection against Hostile Vehicles
Balancing security and openness by creating thresholds
Various design requirements in a security context
Security strategies enabling Thresholds
Notes
References
10. Thresholds in the context of excessive morality or denial of social practices
Acknowledgement of sexual practices through threshold spaces
Sex life and the city
Stygian aspects of civic life
Threshold between public space and death-related practices
Cultural contexts and relation to death
Expression of death in Mexican culture
Threshold spaces in a funeral parlour
A city that does not deny intimate practices
Note
References
11. Thresholds in the context of homogenisation of space
Computational design tools: challenges and advantages for Thresholds
Computational design in critical practice
Computational design and thresholds in the critical practice of artist Jean-Luc Moulène
Jean-Luc Moulène's sculptural process
Potentials for the design of Thresholds through computational design
The expression of dialectics is enhanced through CD
Robotic partitioning: challenges and advantages for thresholds
Transformable architecture blurring the limits between public and private space
Community-controlled robotic partitions
Atmospheric architecture: challenges and advantages for Thresholds
A lack of collective experience and privacy from atmospheric architecture
Imagining the potential for atmospheric architecture to create Thresholds
Notes
References
12. A critique of homogenisation and segregation
Ideologies of hyperconnectivity and segregation in architecture
(Auto)regulation of society as pendulum movement between segregation and homogenisation
The contradictions of capitalism exemplify the contradictions of the social-political context: homogenisation and segregation
Freedom and constraint in the context of capitalism
Contradictory effects of capitalism on architecture
Tools for a critique of Semi-private-Complex architecture expressing extreme contradictions
Notes
References
Part IV: Towards a concept of Threshold Architecture
13. Artworks in public space: the role of Thresholds
Artworks mediating negotiation between individual space, collective space, and physical context
Threshold spaces in performance art: experiments on individual and collective bodies
Site-specific installations: threshold spaces and physical context
Threshold spaces as a dispositive, mediating the relation between the visitor's spatial experience and the context
Examples of threshold spaces as dispositive
Framed views and threshold spaces
Aesthetics of framed views and threshold spaces
An example of framed views and threshold spaces as an experience of the collective dream of Berlin's history
Museums as threshold spaces around art
Threshold Architecture as Pharmakon
Notes
References
14. Design principles of Threshold Architecture, and theoretical implications
Fundamental principle of Thresholds: Relational Autonomy
Design principles for threshold spaces
Threshold Architecture in relation to other categories of architecture
No threshold: Autonomous Architecture
No threshold: example of an autonomous approach through unowned property
No threshold: Open and Fluid architecture
No threshold: Semi-private Complex architecture, including phantasmagorias
Threshold Architecture can display a complex array of semi-private spaces, but public space prevails
Threshold Architecture as resistance and Threshold Architecture as adaptation
Resistance through a network of threshold spaces
Notes
References
15. Implications of threshold spaces for communities
Threshold space between community space and public space
The concept of Threshold addresses debates about communities
The spatial dimension of community
Theoretical implications: empowering communities through Thresholds
The actuality of Critical Theory
Dialectics between the majority, or mainstream, and minorities
The concept of Threshold as a feminist issue
Design enabling visibility and non-stigmatisation in public space
Can threshold spaces enhance the presence and expression of communities in public space?
The role and impact of threshold spaces on the presence and expression of communities in public space
A stranger in the city's thresholds
Notes
References
Conclusion
Threshold spaces enhance public space
Threshold spaces are spaces of social expression
By disappearing, threshold spaces tell us something about our society
Threshold spaces as resistance
Categories of architecture: Semi-private Complexes, Autonomous Architecture, and Threshold Architecture
Index

Citation preview

Architecture of Threshold Spaces

This book explores the relationship between architecture and philosophy through a discussion on threshold spaces linking public space with publicly accessible buildings. It explores the connection between exterior and interior and how this creates and affects interactions between people and the social dynamics of the city. Building on an existing body of literature, the book engages with critical philosophy and discusses how it can be applied to architecture. In a similar vein to Walter Benjamin’s descriptions of the Parisian Arcades in the nineteenth century, the book identifies the conditions under which thresholds reveal and impact social life. It utilises a wide range of illustrated international case studies from architects in Japan, Norway, Finland, France, Portugal, Italy, the USA, Australia, Mexico, and Brazil. Within the examples, thresholds become enhancers of social interactions and highlight broader socio-political contexts in public and private space. Architecture of Threshold Spaces is an enlightening contribution to knowledge on contemporary architecture, politics and philosophy for students, academics, and architects. Laurence Kimmel is a Lecturer at the Faculty of Built Environment at the University of New South Wales. She is an architect (MArch, École Nationale Supérieure d’Architecture de Lyon, 1998) and a philosopher of architecture (PhD, University Paris 10 Nanterre, 2006). Her research focuses on boundaries and gradients between public and private space. Her book Architecture as Landscape (2010) describes experiences of architectures as a succession of heterogeneous spaces of different statuses, and shows how architectural shapes mediate the perception of adjacent spaces and the landscape. The objects of her research cover architecture, artworks, landscape architecture, and urban planning, all of which she analyses in a cross-disciplinary way. Her research also addresses the notion of “critical practice”: architects who consider and express tensions, paradoxes or contradictions of the socio-political context in their practice.

Routledge Research in Architecture

The Routledge Research in Architecture series provides the reader with the latest scholarship in the field of architecture. The series publishes research from across the globe and covers areas as diverse as architectural history and theory, technology, digital architecture, structures, materials, details, design, monographs of architects, interior design, and much more. By making these studies available to the worldwide academic community, the series aims to promote quality architectural research. Jørn Utzon and Transcultural Essentialism Adrian Carter and Marja Sarvimäki Husserl and Spatiality A Phenomenological Ethnography of Space Tao DuFour Radical Functionalism A Social Architecture for Mexico Luis E. Carranza The Architect and the Academy Essays on Research and Environment Dean Hawkes Architecture of Threshold Spaces A Critique of the Ideologies of Hyperconnectivity and Segregation in the SocioPolitical Context Laurence Kimmel For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Research-in-Architecture/book-series/RRARCH

Architecture of Threshold Spaces A Critique of the Ideologies of Hyperconnectivity and Segregation in the Socio-Political Context Laurence Kimmel

Cover image: Snøhetta, View of Oslo Opera House, 2007 © Tristan Guilloux. First published 2022 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2022 Laurence Kimmel The right of Laurence Kimmel to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Kimmel, Laurence, author. Title: Architecture of threshold spaces: a critique of the ideologies of hyperconnectivity and segregation in the socio-political context / Laurence Kimmel. Description: Abingdon, Oxon; New York, NY: Routledge, 2022. | Series: Routledge research in architecture | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021033106 (print) | LCCN 2021033107 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367680206 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367680213 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003133889 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Architecture and philosophy. | Space (Architecture) | Architecture and society. Classification: LCC NA2500.K487 2022 (print) | LCC NA2500 (ebook) | DDC 720.1--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021033106 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021033107 ISBN: 978-0-367-68020-6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-68021-3 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-13388-9 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889 Typeset in Sabon by MPS Limited, Dehradun

Contents

List of illustrations Acknowledgements Preamble

vii ix 1

PART I

Thresholds: some theoretical background

11

1 Threshold spaces are singular spaces

13

2 Threshold spaces express dialectics

25

3 Observations on Threshold spaces

38

PART II

Thresholds of buildings of different functions

45

4 Thresholds in cultural architecture

47

5 Thresholds of services areas and retail shops

71

6 Thresholds in architecture for age-specific groups

86

7 Public space as threshold space

99

8 Thresholds around semi-private Pockets in public space

116

vi

Contents

PART III

Constraints to the existence of thresholds and proposals of resistance strategies 9 Thresholds in the context of security strategies

127 129

10 Thresholds in the context of excessive morality or denial of social practices

138

11 Thresholds in the context of homogenisation of space

149

12 A critique of homogenisation and segregation

169

PART IV

Towards a concept of Threshold Architecture

179

13 Artworks in public space: the role of Thresholds

181

14 Design principles of Threshold Architecture, and theoretical implications

195

15 Implications of threshold spaces for communities

210

Conclusion Index

225 229

Illustrations

Figures 2.1 2.2 4.1

4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 4.7

4.8 5.1

5.2

6.1

François-Hippolyte Destailleur and Romain de Bourges. Passage Jouffroy, Paris, 1836 FOA, Yokohama Ferry Terminal, 2002 Lina Bo Bardi, with André Vaimer and Marcelo C. Ferraz, SESC Pompéia Recreational Centre, São Paulo, 1977–1986 Renzo Piano, Richard Rogers, and Gianfranco Franchini, Centre Pompidou, Paris, 1977 Álvaro Siza Vieira, Fundação Serralves, Oporto, Portugal, 1999 Álvaro Siza Vieira, Fundação Iberê Camargo, Porto Alegre, Brazil, 2007 Odile Decq, Museo d’Arte Contemporanea di Roma (MACRO), Rome, 2001–2010 SANAA, Plan and view of the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa, Japan, 2004 SO-IL, Ground floor plan of the Jan Shrem and Maria Manetti Shrem Museum of Art, Davis, USA, 2016 SO-IL, Jan Shrem and Maria Manetti Shrem Museum of Art, Davis, USA, 2016 Wanderlust (Johanna Brummer and Heini-Emilia Saari), Aukio: Bryk & Wikkala Visible Storage, EMMA (Espoo Museum of Modern Art), 2017 Kevin O’Brien Architects in association with Project Services, Plan and views from the Retail Store and Offices, Lockhart River, Australia, 2013 Fjmt, Plan, sketch and two views inside Northern Beaches PCYC Community Centre, Dee Why, 2017

26 30

48 51 52 54 55 63

67 68

72

77 88

viii

Illustrations 6.2 Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects (IPH), Plan of level 1 of the Walumba Elders Centre, Warmun, Gija country, Western Australia, 2014 7.1 Snøhetta, View of Oslo Opera House, 2007 7.2 Snøhetta, View of Oslo Opera House, 2007 8.1 Levisky Arquitectos Associados & Anna Dietzsch, Davis Brody Bond, Victor Civita Square, São Paulo, 2010 9.1 Johnson Pilton Walker (JPW), Entrance of the Chau Chak Wing Museum, Sydney, 2020, and diagram synthesizing Counter-Terrorism Layered Security 10.1 Tatiana Bilbao, Underground and ground level plans of Funeraria Tangassi, Mexico, 2011 11.1 Five artworks by Jean-Luc Moulène, and diagram of Moulène’s main modes of assemblage of elements 13.1 Three artworks by Franz Erhard Walther

94 101 103

117

135 146 154 182

Table 9.1 Publicly accessible buildings and their symbolic value

133

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my wonderful partner Peter Williamson for the inspiring discussions throughout the writing of this book and his great support. I would like to thank Véronique Hours, Fabien Mauduit, Albane Duvillier, Tristan Guilloux, and Chris L. Smith for the discussions about the different case studies. I would like to thank Odile Decq, Kevin O’Brien, Liza Fior (muf art/ architecture), Jean-Luc Moulène, fjmt, Wanderlust (Johanna Brummer and Heini-Emilia Saari), and Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects for the discussions about their work, and for enabling me to publish material about their projects. I would like to thank David Hanson, Iñigo Bujedo Aguirre, Roland Halbe, SANAA, Tatiana Bilbao, SO-IL, Ari Karttunen/EMMA, and Galerie Jocelyn Wolff for enabling me to publish photographs. I would like to thank Stephen Craft for editing the manuscript. All translations from the sources in French and German are by the author.

Preamble

This book explores the requirements and conditions for threshold spaces to enhance the publicness of public space and considers the key question: which threshold spaces can enhance public life? Can we learn from threshold spaces as identified by Benjamin, such as the iconic example of the Parisian Arcades? And finally, what do thresholds reveal about society, and how? As numerous books and articles already exist on the thresholds between public and private space in habitations, this book focuses on publicly accessible buildings. The main period considered is the period from the end of World War II to the contemporary world. Each analysis of thresholds’ effects on people also considers the design process and the intentions of the architects. As such, the study draws on information about particular social aspects informing design, including requirements of the architectural programme and other broader social context considerations. In this book, “society” is commonly defined as collection of people living under the same institutions, laws and set of standards, including certain cultural principles. “Social life” designates the dynamics of society over time, and “social context” refers to the array of rules, norms, behaviours, and beliefs in a given society. “Social interactions” are defined as an elementary and momentary reciprocal action between two or more individuals. “Behaviour” is defined as movement and attitude, and also practices, uses, and actions. These actions or reactions can be physical and psychological, and the changes in behaviour we consider are manifested to an observer. These changes may or may not happen in the context of social interactions. I sometimes mention “movement” in association with the word “behaviour” to emphasize these movements in a specific context. The same goes for “presence.” The “collective” refers to people interacting by using the space simultaneously, usually in the same way. The word “Collective,” with a capital, is used as a concept, as opposed to the “Individual.” Variations of this concept can be found in the expressions “collective sphere,” “collective life,” etc.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-101

2 Preamble

Some contemporary tendencies of cities and their antecedents in the Modern period1 The topic and the aim of this book are timely because of contemporary tendencies within urban planning and architecture. For example, the tendency for urban public spaces to become more and more privatised, increasing social exclusion, together with increasing surveillance measures (counterterrorism measures being their pinnacle). Urban planning and architecture in these contexts tend to be organised as delineated spaces. Delineating spaces is a means of control, often to assign property, function, status (public/private), usage (individual/collective), or easing responsibility for maintenance. Architecturally, control tends to enhance the partitioning of spaces, which may lead to increased segregation of people. This tendency is well described in academic literature, especially that concerning cities of the Western world (Madanipour 2003; Low et al. 2006).2 This book starts with this observation, and explores other contexts that either share similar issues or present interesting architectural proposals for what will be called “resistance strategies.” This tendency towards partitioning space is not new. Philosopher Walter Benjamin described the distinction or the “split” between the Individual and the Collective in the Western world in the Late Modern period. Benjamin highlighted the split that arose between individual sensibility (how one dreams and possesses willpower) and the collective sensibility of the urban crowd. In “The Narrator,” he described how this divergence signalled the end of oral tradition as the catalyst between the Individual and the Collective, leading to the global impoverishment of experience (Benjamin 1991II, 438–465). In the realm of the experience of the city, the split relates to the disappearance of Erfahrung in favour of Erlebnis. Erfahrung is the cumulative, totalising accretion of transmittable wisdom, of epic truth, and is linked to the Collective. Erlebnis is the immediate, passive, fragmented, isolated, and unintegrated inner experience (Jay 1998, 48–49). For Benjamin, the disappearance of Erfahrung is associated with the withdrawal into the private sphere in the nineteenth century. In the realm of literature, this withdrawal relates to the disappearance of storytelling in favour of the solitary reading of novels. These changes are manifest in the Parisian Arcades, with the transformation of the exterior street into interior passage. This dynamic culminates with the creation of the bourgeois interior (Benjamin 1999, 8–9, 19–20; Rice 2006). Benjamin’s ideas resonate with the work of philosopher Gilbert Simondon, who argued that the experience of the private sphere became disconnected or “dephased” in the Modern period from the experience of the collective sphere (Simondon 1989, 227; 1995, 232; 2014, 315–29). This has also led to the dissociation of the psychology of the Individual on one hand, and the sociology of the Collective on the other. In The Interpretation of Dreams (1900), Sigmund Freud argued that the perceptive system used for collective life had been dissociated from the recording of individual mnemonic traces

Preamble 3 (Déotte 2012, 41). This split between the Individual and the Collective resulted in an excessive concealment of individual/private spaces in architecture, which increases constraints and hinders the architectural expression of the intertwining of the public and private spheres. Prior to this split, intertwining was more common. It might be said that, because of this split, aspects of collective life in cities once freely expressed (in Ancient Greece, for example), barely exist today. Though uncommon, some contemporary exceptions are offered in this book. Can architecture challenge the shift in citizens’ experience from Erfahrung to Erlebnis? (And if so, in what way?) What would be the transformations in which these spaces are participating (if they are)?

The concept of Threshold Threshold can be defined as the intersection between public and private or semi-private space. A Threshold (with a capital T) is a “sphere” (embracing types of behaviours between the public and private sphere), while a “threshold” or “threshold space” is a physical space. This physical space is connected and at the same time separated from adjacent spaces. When architecture consists essentially of threshold spaces, then it is a Threshold Architecture. The approach through thresholds considers areas of ambiguity between two statuses, and the importance of the negotiation of space by visitors. “Ambiguity” means coexistence and/or alternation of different functions, statuses and/or usages. Thresholds are passages between spaces of different statuses in the experience of the architecture, thus prompting and orchestrating changing behaviour of the visitor. Benjamin’s philosophy considers the potential of the coexistence of individual and collective use in architectural space, and thus the continuous variation of different types of space in the visitor’s experience (Palmier 2006, 448). The Arcades, for example, enable this coexistence of individual and collective experience. Thresholds may be disappearing with the delineation and excessive partitioning of spaces. However, existing contemporary thresholds remain of real social benefit, creating connections between people and prompting accidental encounters. The concept of Threshold engages with issues of social diversity and politics of public space. Also, thresholds that concomitantly delimit space and stay porous to other spaces, very often create poetic architectures. This book explores the requirements and impacts of thresholds through their aesthetic qualities, and their social and political characteristics.

Focusing on thresholds with public space: an expression of social life The book focuses on thresholds with public space. They make buildings welcoming and accessible to a large audience. At the same time, thresholds

4 Preamble make public space lively through the presence of the people accessing the buildings. The “publicness” of public space is partly determined by their surroundings. The book explores the role of threshold space in the publicness of public space. The main theoretical reference is the work of Walter Benjamin on threshold spaces. Benjamin named these spaces between interior and exterior Schwelle (threshold). Threshold spaces as defined in this research prompted his philosophical thinking (Benjamin 1999, 6, 13, 86, 88, 89, etc.) Far from the original German definition of Schwelle as the piece of wood laying in front of the door (an object), Benjamin was interested in “singular” spaces, which are, for him, like fragments that unveil something for society. Benjamin identified an interaction between the spatial organisation of architecture and its social context. The social context and the political economy of Paris of the nineteenth century created the Arcades. As an architecture, the spatial organisation of the Parisian Arcades affected the social and commercial behaviour of people (Benjamin 1999, 17). Benjamin understood the Arcades as a metaphor for a turning point in history: that is, a remnant of the nineteenth century in the twentieth century. His conclusion came from a deep analysis of changes in the Late Modern period. Benjamin did not write a systematic and synthetic philosophy of thresholds, but certain fragments of the Arcades Project, including the quote copied below, are explicit on this notion. Benjamin mentions “rites of passage.” He explains how the experience of thresholds became rare in the Late Modern period. The quote ends with a mention to the architectural (tectonic) aspect of thresholds. Rites de passage-this is the designation in folklore for the ceremonies that attach to death and birth, to marriage, puberty, and so forth. In modem life, these transitions are becoming ever more unrecognizable and impossible to experience. We have grown very poor in threshold experiences. Falling asleep is perhaps the only such experience that remains to us (But together with this, there is also waking up). And, finally, there is the ebb and flow of conversation and the sexual permutations of love-experience that surges over thresholds like the changing figures of the dream. “How mankind loves to remain transfixed,” says Aragon in Le Paysan de Paris, “at the very doors of the imagination!” (1926, 74). It is not only from the thresholds of these gates of imagination that lovers and friends like to draw their energies; it is from thresholds in general. Prostitutes, however, love the thresholds of these gates of dream. -The threshold must be carefully distinguished from the boundary. A Schwelle (threshold) is a zone. Transformation, passage, wave action are in the word schwellen, swell,

Preamble 5 and etymology ought not to overlook these senses.' On the other hand, it is necessary to keep in mind the immediate tectonic and ceremonial context which has brought the word to its current meaning. □ Dream House □ (Benjamin 1999, 494). This quote shows how, for Benjamin, the experience of thresholds is generalised to various aspects of daily life. The quote also shows how the conscious experience of thresholds relates to an unconscious, dreamlike experience. Benjamin being a main reference for this book, we must consider the daydreaming experience to be equally important. Benjamin identifies some of these effects, either on individuals, in a semi-dream state, between focused and distracted perception, and thus, as crowd effect, on collectives. In another quote about fashion, Benjamin writes: …it is precisely in this century, the most parched and imaginationstarved, that the collective dream energy of a society has taken refuge with redoubled vehemence... (Benjamin 1999, 64). Of course, it is not only Benjamin that considers the dream aspect. Since Freud, Benjamin and numerous theorists until today consider the dream and the unconscious. We can say that any architectural project for a public building represents a collective dream for the building, or at least a certain way the micro-society would function. The completed building may represent this initial dream to varying degrees of success. According to Benjamin, this is the ability of architecture and urbanism to be a matrix for the “collective dream” that supports the relationship between architecture and social context (Benjamin 1999, 844). Architectures, as metaphors for changes of the social context at a moment in time, are the products and at the same time catalysers of the dreams of the crowd. These unveiled characteristics unfold in society into the future. Collective dreams exist before being captured by phantasmagoria. This will be explained later. Threshold spaces intersect the interior and exterior, the private and the public, and in so doing, as Freud would say, multiply the “figure of the dream” that is Condensation, like two “images” that are superimposed in one. There is therefore potential for the collective dream in these “singular” threshold spaces. The dreamlike dimension takes on a particular importance for Benjamin in the way in which one society dreams of its future through certain buildings. Through his critical reading of Benjamin’s work, Jean-Louis Déotte argued that Benjamin provided examples that are “metaphors for changes in society.” Those architectures of nineteenth and early twentiethcentury Europe that successfully mediated public and private space (the interior and the exterior), he suggested, were an apt metaphor for wider cultural shifts heralded by modernity (Benjamin 1999). Benjamin’s “iconic” metaphors are phantasmagorias, which are the images society has of itself

6 Preamble when it refuses to accept a reality. For example, that society’s essence is to produce commodities, as exemplified by the Parisian Arcades. According to Marc Berdet (2014), phantasmagorias are collective dreams that are “sealed” or “encapsulated,” and therefore “privatised”. Benjamin pointed at “phantasmagorical” architectures and, at the same time, tried to unlock the phantasmagoria to free these architectures from the collective dreams that could be (or could have been) realised in history. The contemporary period can be seen as a period of diffusion or dissemination of phantasmagorias throughout the city. This was already the case in Berlin at the time of Benjamin the flâneur. The city is a mixture of “liberated” collective dreams and “encapsulated” manufactured dreams. Derives from the above that “architectures as metaphors for changes in society” can be supported by dreams of two main types: • •

the “collective dream,” as expression of free, non-privatised, and nonconsumerist dreams, and the “manufactured dream,” that is usually a consumerist dream. This includes phantasmagorias.

Comparing examples is not foreign to Benjamin’s approach. For example, the Parisian Arcades and the Fourier’s phalanstery are two leading examples of Benjamin’s theories, which are linked by “transformation” from one to the other. Déotte identified a topology of intertwined spaces, thus having a capacity for transformation. Like a kaleidoscope, singular architecture becomes an “instrument” that can transform the way a collective sees the city or dreams of the city (Benjamin 1999, 4). Similarly, Georges Teyssot describes these singular Benjaminian architectures as a kind of “topological3 transformation of an interior into an exterior” (Teyssot 2015, 97, 106). Déotte and Teyssot theorise the link of these singular topologies to the dream in Benjamin’s. As thresholds are located between spaces of different functions, statuses, and usages, visitors’ experiences of thresholds are characterised by variations of movement and behaviour. These differences and continuities of function, status, and usage between spaces create what are called “tensions” that affect behaviours and, as such, social life. Threshold spaces are like microcosms or small theatres of social life, especially when they host a large-scale and complex architectural programme. Critical Theory enables one to consider the expression of “dialectics” of social context in public space. The architectural tensions normally express these dialectics. Critical Theory aims to describe the totality of social reality in its tensions, paradoxes, and contradictions, that is, its dialectics. By analysing the dialectics of social life, we may understand the dialectics of the experience of architecture, and vice versa. The concept of dialectics is inherited from “dialectical materialism” which considers every historically developed society to be in constant transformation (Marx and Engels 1975, 459). Contradictions and conflicts of various forces act on a given society to

Preamble 7 affect its transformation. As metaphors for changes in society, Benjamin’s examples do not reflect the current state of things but the dialectics and potential reconfiguration of our public and private lives. Building on the work of Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel and Karl Marx, Theodor Adorno and Benjamin developed philosophical methodologies to analyse the expression of such dialectics in artworks and architecture. They traced dialectics in the tension or opposition between interacting forces or elements in one work, experience, or situation. Adorno’s definition emphasised the dichotomy of two interacting forces (Adorno 2008, 461).4 The opposition and interaction between public and semi-private space can be considered these two interacting forces. Benjamin’s definition was similar but placed less emphasis on the dichotomy of tensions. Benjamin instead focused on the ways in which multiple and complex social forces determine architectural forms (Benjamin 1999, 3–5). Thresholds with public space express dialectics in two different ways. First, the tensions created by the differences between spaces on both sides of the threshold; and second, the tensions inherent in public space. According to Critical Theory, tensions are inherent in public space. For Jürgen Habermas, the main contemporary representative of Critical Theory, the concept of negotiation between individuals through public discourse and debate is a key factor enhancing public space (Habermas 1989, 232). This notion translates to the negotiation of presence and the actions of visitors in architecture. Similarly, in the contemporary philosophy of Jacques Rancière, tension and disagreement or “dissensus” (as opposed to harmony and consensus) is inherent in public space. For Rancière, such dynamics relate to a constant reconfiguration of the crowd and are made visible as public space, or in public space (Rancière 2010, 28). Rancière’s idea of real democracy as constant debate and dissensus in the public sphere can be applied to physical public space. Public space is not a given, but a dynamic process that is always in the making. The intertwining of spaces of different statuses are topical in Hannah Arendt’s view. Instead of thinking that public space is reinforced via its distinction from private space, Arendt’s philosophy suggests that public space is reinforced via the expression of the private (Arendt 1958, 50). As such, her philosophy criticises the segregation of public and private space. According to Michael Herzfeld, concepts of public and private are inextricably linked, and the private requires performance in public to be recognised. Herzfeld states that “both socially and architectonically, secrecy and privacy, like justice, must be seen to be done; and this paradox demands appropriate public spaces organised to give dramatic weight to the simulacrum of privacy that people wish to enact” (Herzfeld 2009, 145–146). This interaction between public and private space enhances negotiation, thus enhancing public space. Theoretically, the old binary distinction between public and private must now be replaced by a dynamic polarity which makes it possible to consider social constructions as well as

8 Preamble strategies of resistance (Herzfeld 2009, 157). In the consideration of thresholds, this translates to the challenges of the delineation of spaces (to which will be added the challenges of homogenisation of space) and related strategies of resistance. So, accepting that threshold spaces may be disappearing, are cities and their urban fabric less a space of expression of dialectics of society than before? One view is that this evolution could be considered neither good nor bad but rather just a “natural” evolution of civic life in times of social media. This book explores a more optimistic view for the defence of the concepts of the public realm and public space and its benefits. This defence of the concept of public space is inspired by the writings of Critical Theory, including the role of public places in emancipatory aspects of the city. Through the lens of the concept of Threshold, the book also unveils knowledge regarding the concept of public space in the contemporary era, in the age of social media, and in the context of debates about the expression of communities in public space.

The political role of architectural space “Politics” is defined in this book as the effect of architecture on the behaviours of people, especially as it relates to the enhancement of friction and negotiation of space, thus enhancing constant reconfiguration of the Individual and the Collective. A hypothesis is that thresholds have a higher potential for a political role in the city than, for example, a monofunctional space with one defined status. For example, in a place of debate where people are seated and the debate is verbal, then architecture does not play a major role in negotiations. Another hypothesis is that architecture has a political impact when it affects a significant number of people, either because the architecture is a major publicly accessible building, or because a considerable number of buildings with similar spatial organisation are spread in the city or territory. Architecture is political if it affects the crowd. And maybe, like the Arcades, other architectures can have an effect on the crowd because of the manner in which their spaces affect behaviours and minds. There is a worldwide challenge to express socio-political tensions in cultural works in general, and in architecture in particular. This book contributes to knowledge on contemporary, publicly accessible architecture, sometimes called “public buildings” for simplicity, and the capacity for these public buildings to have a political sense via their spatial organisation. The designation of buildings as public in this book is unrelated to the nature of the plot or the owner of the architecture.

Potential of threshold spaces Threshold spaces are key architectural spaces that may host the dynamics of public space. Based on arguments primarily in defence of the concept of

Preamble 9 public space, this book focuses on how thresholds activate public space through visitors’ negotiation of presence, movement, and behaviours. It describes architectures which, by their spatial organisation, affect social interactions in the building and orchestrate different behaviours that range from the more collective to the individual, and from the more public to the more private. This effect includes how visitors are brought together and/or distanced from each other and how visitors perceive each other. This book investigates the conditions of threshold spaces to affect behaviours, and thus be considered “political.”

Notes 1 This book focuses on developments in occidental culture during the Late Modern period. While the debate on when exactly we should locate the Modern period in history is beyond this book’s scope, it reflects the views of those scholars who have argued that the Modern period can be traced back to the mid-sixteenth century. Consequently, Benjamin’s notion of “modern” corresponds to the period called “Late Modern” in this book, starting from the mid-eighteenth century. 2 According to Ali Madanipour, there is a tendency towards segregation in both the urban fabric and in social relationships (Madanipour 2003, 187). The main factor of segregation is the dislocation of well-functioning communities, in favour of a notion of community expressed in a “physical delineation of the neighbourhood” and its sometimes-remaining public space (Madanipour 2003, 130–132). The larger and the more extensive the redevelopment project and control of the land, the more this dynamic of segregation can be efficient. Segregation disrupts the dialectics of public space. 3 See footnote 3 of Chapter 2, page 36. 4 Hegelian dialectics involve some sort of contradiction between opposing sides in an argument (Hegel 2003). We focus on architectures that enable and inspire such Hegelian dialectics.

References Adorno, Theodor W. “Lecture 1: 9 November 1965: The Concept of Contradiction.” In Tiedemann, Rolf, ed. Negative Dialectics. Cambridge: Polity, 2008. Arendt, Hannah. “The Public Realm: The Common.” In The Human Condition. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1958. Benjamin, Walter. “Der Erzähler.” In Gesammelte Schriften II. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1991II. Benjamin, Walter. The Arcades Project. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999. Berdet, Marc. Eight Thesis on Phantasmagoria. 2014. 14 April 2021. https:// journals.openedition.org/am/225. Déotte, Jean-Louis. Walter Benjamin et la forme plastique. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2012. Freud, Sigmund. The Interpretation of Dreams. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1900. Habermas, Jürgen. The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The MIT Press, 1989.

10 Preamble Hegel, Georg W. F. Phenomenology of Spirit. Mineola, NY: Dover, 2003. Herzfeld, Michael. “The Performance of Secrecy: Domesticity and Privacy in Public Spaces.” In Semiotica 175 (January 2009), 135–162. Jay, Martin. Cultural Semantics. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1998. Low, Setha, Taplin, Dana and Scheld, Suzanne. Rethinking Urban Parks. Public Space and Cultural Diversity. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2006. Madanipour, Ali. Public and Private Spaces of the City. London: Routledge, 2003. Marx, Karl and Engels, Frederick. Collected Works vol. 25. New York: International Publishers, 1975. Palmier, Jean-Michel. Walter Benjamin. Le chiffonnier, l'Ange et le Petit Bossu. Paris: Klincksieck, 2006. Rancière, Jacques. Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics. London New Delhi, New York, Sydney: Bloomsbury, 2010. Rice, Charles. The Emergence of the Interior. London: Routledge, 2006. Simondon, Gilbert. Sur le mode d’existence des objets techniques. Paris: Aubier, 1989. Simondon, Gilbert. L’individu et sa genèse physico-biologique. Grenoble: Jérôme Million, 1995. Simondon, Gilbert. “Culture et technique.” In Sur la technique (1953–1983). Paris: PUF, 2014. 51–68. Teyssot, Georges. “A Topology of Thresholds.” In Home Cultures 2:1 (2015), 89–116.

Part I

Thresholds: some theoretical background

1

Threshold spaces are singular spaces

What are threshold spaces? Threshold is the intertwining of public space and semi-private interior. A focus on the concept of Threshold requires us to embrace the complexity of spatial aspects of life in their spatialised social context. This is beyond the physical characteristics of architecture. Since thresholds are delimited by porous partitions, the word “space” is used in this book to express the quality of openness of the different areas considered.1 “Architecture” is defined in this book as: a selected, arranged and constructed configuration of environmental properties, both natural and artificial, in and around one or more activity space or behavioural setting, combined with patterns of behavioural rules and meanings, as well as incorporating cultural constructs of space and time to result in human comfort and quality of lifestyle, all within a wider, large-scale cultural and social context. (Memmott and Davidson 2008, 64) Within this broad definition sits the entire genre of Western architecture, as well as many other genres from all human societies and cultures, past and present. The tensions and contradictions between different behaviours that are inherent in the negotiation of space, are fluctuant, and architecture hosts these fluctuations. Architecture as an array of spaces whose physical boundaries can be represented as envelopes This book mostly considers the use of space and, as such, considers the physical characteristics of architecture that orchestrate and affect this use. In this book, the word “building” emphasises the physicality of architecture. Following the definitions above, these public buildings are usually composed of semi-private interiors (for example, the concert hall) and thresholds between public space and semi-private interiors – that is, semi-public spaces (for DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-1

14 Thresholds: some theoretical background example, the foyer of the concert hall). In physical terms, the threshold space is delimited by porous partitions and can be covered or uncovered. The sketch representation of architecture considered in its spatial aspects is an array of sketch 3D envelopes that delimit spaces. One envelope is a sketch envelope of its physical boundaries. Sometimes, the sketching exercise can be challenging; for example, for open-air spaces or indoor/outdoor spaces like thresholds. However, a sketch image of 3D envelopes is possible, implying a few approximations (Hensel and Turko 2015). An envelope is the equivalent in 3D of a sketched perimeter in 2D (whether in plan or in section). This sketch representation of a space is a tool to analyse links between spaces. You can imagine these envelopes when considering the different descriptions of such spaces. Open-air public space can also be sketched as an envelope when it is delimited by architectural elements or public furniture, even when the visitor does not feel totally “enveloped.” Threshold spaces adjacent to public space The “public sphere” provides benefits to society ranging from the provision of arenas for political representation to more informal symbolic and representative functions. Public space is the most visible aspect of the public life and cultural vitality of a city (Habermas 1989). It is the spatial subset of the public sphere and has a crucial role in sustaining and developing the public sphere (Parkinson 2012; Sennett 1971). Philosopher Hannah Arendt emphasised the importance of this “material common world” as the expression of the public sphere (Arendt 1958; Madanipour 2003, 148–149, 152). The architectural approach of this book borrows tools from sociology. Public space is primarily concerned with people–space relationships. Public spaces are a matter of use (Goffman 1963); the use being more important to this research than the ownership of the space. Inter-subjectivity—that is, links to others using the space—is the main characteristic of public space (Kohn 2004, 11; Wood and Gilbert 2005, 686). In line with the analyses of Henri Lefebvre (1991, 83–195), David Harvey (1989, 212), and Mike Davis (1990, 222–263), this book studies the expression of the social context in the interactions that are supported within public space. Through this expression of the social context, public space is thus the expression of rules and norms, behaviours and beliefs (Habermas 1989; Dacheux 2007). Rules usually apply to the whole of society. Norms are more informal and fluctuant, and can relate to groups, communities, or society as a whole. The predominant norms of society are the norms of the political economy—that is, how society functions politically and economically—for example, different social statuses. In public space, expressed behaviours and beliefs can be individual or collective, making public space fruitful terrain for the study of their relations. Commentators have proposed the concept of “publicness” as one of the characteristics by which the quality of public space can be measured and

Threshold spaces are singular spaces 15 evaluated. A qualitative public space is one that fosters presence, movement, and behaviours of people and their use of the space by prompting interactions between people. Publicness requires appropriate design, location, and management (Varna and Tiesdell 2010). In terms of design and location, Kevin Lynch raised questions about the physical and psychological accessibility of public spaces (Lynch 1972). Lynch asserted that public space should have characteristics of spatial openness2 and functional openness,3 enabling a diversity of use. This study considers that another fundamental characteristic of public space is its unfettered accessibility for all. That is, it is not ticketed, no one filters visitors to the venue, architectural symbols do not intimidate potential visitors, and accordingly, no one need to feel like a stranger (Toloudi 2016). Presence in public space can be negotiated by anyone. Public spaces are known as the “theatre of everyday life” where individuals and groups can observe and encounter other people beyond their normal circle of acquaintances, people who might have different practices, behaviours, and cultures. “Differences are constructed in, and themselves construct, city life and spaces” (Bridge and Watson 2000, 251). Hence, public spaces help people to engage with differences, and to extend their personal boundaries, and to confront, tolerate, and resolve conflict. Therefore, a central role of public space is to offer a ground for a civilising social life and social encounters among citizens. Accordingly, every person and all communities should have some form of agency in public space. Agency relates to the possibility of action of an agent (acting individually or on behalf of a community), and the possibility that this action is received and has consequences. Lynch, in his book A Theory of Good City Form (1981), proposed five forms of agency: presence, use and action, appropriation, modification, and disposition. Appropriation allows users to claim symbolic or real ownership of a place. Modification relates to the right to change a space to enable use. Disposition is the potential to shift one’s use of public space to other users. These forms of spatial control have strong psychological values, including satisfaction and pride, and their absence could contribute to anxiety (Francis 1989). Having agency is especially important to those who have minimal levels of social control and opportunity. People can perform “the right to be.” Control is an important characteristic of public space and can influence its use. Whereas private space is demarcated and protected by stateregulated rules of private property use, public space, while far from free of regulation, is generally conceived as open to public participation. In the case studies considered in this book, the rules and norms of the potential private owner do not threaten the publicness of public space. A public space is a space that is not excessively controlled by private individuals or organisations, and hence is open to the public (Madanipour 1996, 144–145). Similarly, threshold spaces are public where they remain accessible to all. For example, the foyer of a museum may be used freely by a homeless

16 Thresholds: some theoretical background person. The threshold can be considered as semi-public. That is, in all nonticketed areas, anyone can enter and wander without obligations related to the purpose of the interior. The difference between a public and a semipublic space is that, in the semi-public space, activities unrelated to the purpose of the building are not permitted without restriction. For example, one usually cannot make a picnic in a threshold space and therefore the threshold is semi-public. When thinking about the publicness of a space, I like to take the example of a conversation among friends, or a picnic. You can, for any public space, take the test of imagining one of these two situations, and get an immediate impression of its publicness. Threshold spaces adjacent to semi-private space Public interiors can be considered as semi-private spaces. For example, the exhibition spaces of a museum have a specific function, which is the experience of art and culture. Other public buildings have an intended specific function, such as reading or playing sport. This use can be individual or collective. Most of the people in these buildings are there for the function of the building. Therefore, the threshold space of a public building is less public than open-air public space, and less private than a semi-private interior. In this book, “privacy” is considered as the sphere of private contacts, both with people one knows and with strangers. It is in this sense that we consider privacy’s existence in public space. For example, a conversation between two persons in the middle of public space can be considered a private interaction in public space (Madanipour 2003, 155). A fortiori, the (semi-public) threshold can host private behaviours. Public and private spheres are parts of a continuum and cannot be treated as completely segregated social and physical realms. Anthropologist Morton H. Levine defines privacy as “the maintenance of a personal life-space within which the individual has a chance to be an individual, to exercise and experience his own uniqueness” (Levine 1980, 11). In this book, we consider a certain kind of private practice through the usage of nooks of public space for private purposes, the limit of which is what is accepted in public space. Chapter 5 extends these concepts to consider retail spaces, which comprise the interior of a shop and the areas that are just outside the shop. The interior of a shop can be considered as semi-private space; that is, a private space open to the public at certain hours. Everybody can enter and look around without an obligation to buy; however, activities unrelated to the purpose of the shop are not permitted without restriction. Chapter 5 also considers service areas such as workshops for museum staff and storage rooms, which are usually private and not accessible to the public. This chapter tackles the unusual idea of intertwining public space and service areas, in which service areas become visible or accessible to the public.

Threshold spaces are singular spaces 17 Another example of a semi-private space is the music performance hall, which is accessible to the public, but where activities unrelated to the purpose of the performance space are not permitted. These examples illustrate how behaviours are more predetermined in semi-private spaces than in the related thresholds.

The experience of passage through threshold spaces The experience of threshold spaces is one of a passage through public, semipublic, and semi-private space. This experience has an identifiable spatiality and temporality that define the aesthetics of threshold space. We can consider the aesthetic experience of thresholds as creating the potential for the political meaning of architecture. In a previous book, L’architecture comme paysage (Architecture as Landscape), I analysed the passage through a succession of spaces in some of Álvaro Siza Vieira’s architectures. I showed how the perception of Siza’s “architecture as landscape” is one of diverse heterogeneous “spaces of sensitive experience that are rebelliously opposed to diverse possible forms of objectivation” (Besse 2009, 16). For example, the concrete plans of Siza’s Piscina das Marés in Leça da Palmeira, Matosinhos (1961–1966) orchestrate the experience of passages between the public space and the cabins as spaces of private use. Architecture makes this coexistence and friction possible. The building is experienced as a succession of threshold spaces with subtle differences in status. It fulfils its function of collective equipment and, at the same time, the landscape, the sea, the sky, framed by the concrete plans prompt powerful imaginations. Through its spatial and temporal characteristics, Siza’s architecture has political potential. It has been confirmed that the aesthetic experience of these spaces is underpinned by Siza’s political views, which leads to these architectures having political meaning. This previous book, and other case studies, revealed the importance of the question of threshold spaces and their role in the political meaning of some architecture. Can this idea be extended more broadly to all Threshold Architecture? Thresholds foster a non-objectifying perception of architecture Threshold spaces can be covered or open spaces, and the level of openness/ enclosure of the envelope varies. A visitor can move freely across the threshold, towards other adjacent spaces. Accordingly, the threshold is delimited spatially, but is also perceived in continuity with adjacent spaces. Its porous partitions enable thresholds to share characteristics with adjacent spaces. As we pass through the threshold, our gaze can wander towards other spaces, and vice versa, and the visitor can be seen by other people. The status and usage of the threshold space can change more easily than the status and function of the adjacent spaces (as defined by the architectural or

18 Thresholds: some theoretical background urban programme). Instead of giving visitors a binary choice, such as being in the street or in the museum, threshold spaces provide a complex experience. As with the arcades around the Palais-Royal in Paris or the entrance of the Serralves Foundation in Oporto (designed by Siza), one can walk and observe at the same time, while choosing between different paths. Of the variety of city spaces, thresholds are the most heterogeneous and hybrid. This heterogeneity, and the materiality of related shapes, may foster a visitor’s access to the real—unlike “architectural objects” that focus the gaze and fascinate the visitor, and through this power become “architectural subjects.” This phenomenon is the principle of “reification” as defined by György (Georg) Lukács (1972). Threshold spaces can be seen as resistance to reification. The structure of a building can generate a perception of space that has a constructive character and cannot be synthesized instantaneously. The perception of threshold spaces is not synthesisable or objectifiable.4 Visitors are affected by variations of experience Since the visitor cannot objectify architecture inside the threshold space because of variations in its spatial characteristics, a continuously changing experience is created. In opposition to the dichotomy of a subject overlooking an architectural “object” in a single gaze, the experience of the visitor is characterised by variations in the duration of their path. Changes in spatial configurations and unfolding of the visual field open the perception process to changes in duration and give the experience a sense of “becoming” (Deleuze 1983, 22). The interaction between visitor and physical environment makes the visitor “tune” to the succession of architectural spaces. This type of experience is described by Erwin Straus as the experience of the “space of landscape,” which is opposed to an experience of “geographic space” (Straus 2000, 378). For Straus, the “space of landscape” is the space around us; it travels with the visitor and is referenced with ourselves positioned at the centre. In contrast, “geographic space” is determined by the objective world, and the relative position of the visitor, for example, denoted by a coordinate system. The “space of landscape” is characterised by an interrelation between subjects and their surrounding physical environment. According to Straus, we must consider “feeling” as a mode of communication with the world as a “space of landscape.” “Feeling” has an active dimension as an opening to the “lived world.” Similarly to Henri Bergson, Straus considers perception as movement, and “feeling” implies “moving.” In moving physically through threshold spaces, the visitor is emotionally “moved” as well. This movement is a movement of the body and/or an internal feeling as movement, even if the body does not physically move. The visitor has the ability to move in the singular “space of landscape,” without appealing to rationalist orientation in “geographic space.” According to Maurice Merleau-Ponty, “flesh” is the

Threshold spaces are singular spaces 19 place where “the seeing body” and “the visible body” intertwine. This notion of flesh allows Merleau-Ponty to qualify the coupling of the phenomenological subject with the world, and to define the way in which the world can make itself tangible to the subject (Merleau-Ponty 1976, II, III, 240, 348; Merleau-Ponty 1990, 235–236; Merleau-Ponty 1996, 67). The subjectivity of the visitor is therefore inscribed in their interaction with architecture (Fabbri 2007, 116). The architecture of thresholds, as a configuration of traversed spaces, particularly engages the viewer’s body. Unsettling threshold spaces foster both distracted perception and attention The spatial singularity of thresholds can create an unsettling state, which can be experienced as a perceptive challenge, confrontation, or “shock,” depending on the particular architectural example. The experience of the threshold challenges the visitor to situate themselves while being “open to the world.” By experiencing the continuities between these spaces, as well as the discontinuities or “cuts,” the visitor is “torn” between the topological continuity of the actual envelope and the rupture demanded by the experience of the envelope that follows (Maldiney 1993, 195). This “crisis of the gaze” as unexpected disorientation makes the visitor feel unsettled in the space. As spaces with no determined function, usage, and status, thresholds are unsettling. They create a certain “concern” or “worry” that pushes the visitor to move or to act. According to Pierre-Damien Huyghe, these unsettling characteristics may create politics: The political polemos5 is embodied in perceptual polarities and needs, to establish itself as an order of human behaviour, the back and forth linking distracted perception and attention, none of these attitudes eliminating the other. In the absence of this unstable and unresolved instance, perhaps it is the element of divergence, necessary for the maintenance of political life, that might be lacking. (Huyghe 1996, 214) Through the perception of various spaces, it is possible for the visitor to acquire a certain freedom and to encounter the unknown; for example, everything that takes place on the outskirts or on the horizon. Threshold spaces have a “polemical potential” that engages bodies in space. This experience unsettles the classical hierarchy between visitor and environment. As such, the architecture of thresholds fosters democratic practices. According to Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, “nonsignificant systems” or “acentric, non-hierarchical, and nonsignificant” systems are an expression of democratic values (Deleuze and Guattari 1980, 9–39). According to Benoît Goetz, freedom in apprehension is a characteristic of non-totalitarian space:

20 Thresholds: some theoretical background Secularism maintains dispersion; it prevents the common from totalising or unifying. However, it also prohibits separation and compartmentalisation by establishing areas of co-existence. Distance does not separate. However, the lack of space and coagulation, which blocks the playful relation to space, does cause separation. Any totalitarian enterprise freezes space, devotes it, assigns it functions, and bends it to a specific use. It is in this task that totalitarianism exhausts itself because space holds potential in reserve for play and non-appropriation. (Goetz 2001, 133) The architecture of threshold spaces maintains a playful and democratic sense of space, and may have a higher potential to enhance democratic life than other architectural spaces. Potential unity of the experience of threshold spaces Although the experience of thresholds enables a certain freedom of exploration, Benjamin’s philosophy helps us see a certain unity in the experience. Benjamin considers a distance between the subject and the surrounding environment that is not the classical distance between subject and object; that is, a certain distancing from reality. In the experience of thresholds, the attention to the tactile materiality of physical, porous partitions is combined with a dreamlike state of flânerie through the array of interior and exterior spaces, the gaze itself being susceptible to a flânerie; for example, through visual escapes towards the surrounding urban landscape and the sky (Benjamin 1999, 314, 369). According to Benjamin, this combination enables a new kind of objectifying and linking with the present, between materialism and idealism. Through the duration of the experience, the observer encounters a delayed moment of truth (Tiedemann 1991, 34–37; Déotte 2012, 37), which can be considered as the experience of a certain unity.6

Notes 1 The sources of a concept of “space” that is not “infinite space” are to be found in Plato’s notion of Chora or Khôra. He outlines the concept in his Timaeus in 358 BC (Plato 2008). A Chora is not an enclosed place but a “matrix,” a support for changes and movements, a receptacle, or an interval. It is neither being nor nonbeing, but an interval between which the “forms” were originally held. Chora “gives space.” The particularity of the spaces considered in this book is that they are delimited although still open. This could seem contradictory first, as the philosophy of architecture usually separates the notions of space and place (Casey 1998). Both the Platonic Khôra and the Aristotelian topos are in opposition to the infinite space of the Modern period (Ibid.). 2 Spatial openness means that the size, design, and urban context of the public space enable free and easy access, and that movement is easily accessible from different pathways. It is large enough to welcome a crowd of people. It includes

Threshold spaces are singular spaces 21

3

4

5

6

the design of the public space such as entrances (how much effort it takes to enter a space) as well as physical connectivity inside the public space. Functional openness, looseness, or playfulness adds to spatial openness and means that the size, design, and urban context of the public space enable agency (freedom of interaction), a wide range of uses, especially strangers hanging around without being noticed. In “real” public space, people can “stay around” without any purpose. The design does not restrict the use of public space to one or a few determined uses. It occurs when the environment becomes adaptable to a variety of uses without major physical alterations. In these cases, fixed elements remain unchanged; however, differences are observed in the semi-fixed and nonfixed characteristics of the environment (Rapoport 2008). “Open-ended streets play an important role in creating culturally specific urban environments” (Fernando 2006, 68). Monofunctional public spaces like sidewalks and corridors that have a determined function (the circulation of pedestrians), and where one cannot easily stop for a chat, are not considered public space in this book. The functional openness of streets could also lead to what Walzer (1986) argues is open-mind space. Other forms of accessibility are visual and symbolic, and relate to psychological openness. A different theory, the one of Jean-François Lyotard, also emphasises the nonobjective perception of some artworks. Lyotard imagines “an aesthetic feeling independent of any aim, any tendency, and any achievement.” According to Lyotard “beyond intrigue and desire, for the artwork to be artwork, there must be feeling.” The architecture of thresholds allows us “to be in the world by feeling, to withdraw from desire and its affairs” (Lyotard 2008, 53). Feeling is opposed to the perception of objects’ truth. In Greek mythology, Pólemos (war) was a divine personification of war. Heraclitus described Pólemos as “both the king and father of all,” with the capacity to bring all into existence and to annihilate (Chapelle 1993, 53). Heidegger interpreted the polemos of Heraclitus as the principle of differentiation or “setting apart” (Fried 2000, 17). The architecture of threshold spaces is also constructivism, as the experience involves the duration of a passage through multiple spaces (to simplify, three spaces: public space, threshold, interior). The visitor “constructs” the experience of thresholds in a certain duration. The building’s apparent structuration takes part in the constructive aspect of the perception. The intertwined spaces of the threshold have similarities with the montage. “The montage …, just as it disavows the unity by the obvious disparity of the parts, contributes as a formal principle to its restoration” (Adorno 2004, 218). The “construct” is disjoint from the “syntheses of signifying thought” (Adorno 2004, 123); that is, no synthesis is possible, but a certain unity of experience can be reached. The visitor is active in this perception process and thus is an agent of this process, building their own subjectivity in this process. The architecture of threshold spaces renounces the trivial opposition between constructivism and realism. The experience of the threshold can be called “constructive realism.” In architecture as defined by Veronique Fabbri,

the function of architecture is not to clearly present symbolic forms, in the sense of Cassirer i.e. significant structures of a thinking mode and existence mode. Rather it has the function of articulating modes of experience that have not yet achieved clear readability. (Fabbri 2007, 30)

22 Thresholds: some theoretical background “The construction … is not architectonic, but rhapsodic, proceeding by adjustment and assemblage of materials” (Fabbri 2007, 13), materials being spaces. Fabbri develops, in the field of dance in relation to its physical environment, a notion of “construction as arrangement” (Fabbri 2007, 56). In dance, “The images are not representations, but the meeting of a symbolic intention and a presence.” “The spatialising image is therefore not the image ‘of’ space, but the process in which a subject constructs a space which is the space of his experience” (Fabbri 2007, 81). As such, space is a construction based on architectural envelopes and determined by a person’s behaviour and action, or a collective’s behaviour. The aesthetics of Threshold concord with Fabbri’s definition of architectural space. As such, the relation between subject and object is more horizontal than hierarchical, as introduced in reference to Benjamin. In this new paradigm, the thresholds, and the experience of the visitor, are not hierarchical; the experience is structured in a new way.

References Adorno, Theodor W. Théorie esthétique (1970). Paris: Klincksieck, 2004. Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1958. Benjamin, Walter. The Arcades Project. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999. Besse, Jean-Marc. Le Goût du Monde: – Exercices de Paysage. Paris: Actes Sud, 2009. Bridge, Gary, and Watson, Sophie. (2000). A Companion to the City. Oxford: Blackwell, 2000. Casey, Edward. The Fate of Place. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. Chapelle, Daniel. Nietzsche and Psychoanalysis. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993. Dacheux, Eric. “Une Nouvelle Approche de l’Espace Public.” In Recherches en Communication 28 (2007), 11–28. Davis, Mike. “Fortress LA.” In Davis, Mike ed. City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles. London, New York: Verso, 1990. 221–264. Deleuze, Gilles, and Guattari, Felix. Mille plateaux. Paris: Ed. de Minuit, 1980. Deleuze, Gilles. L’image-mouvement: Cinéma. Paris: Les Editions de Minuit, 1983. Déotte, Jean-Louis. Walter Benjamin et la forme plastique. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2012. Fabbri, Véronique. Danse et philosophie: Une pensée en construction. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2007. Fernando, Nisha A. “Open-ended Space: Urban Streets in Different Cultural Contexts.” In Franck, Karen A., and Stevens, Quentin, eds. Loose Space: Possibility and Diversity in Urban Life. New York: Routledge, 2006. 54–72. Francis, Mark. “Control as a Dimension of Public-Space Quality.” In Altman, Irwin, and Zube, Erwin. H., eds. Public Places and Spaces. New York: Plenum Press, 1989. 147–172. Fried, Gregory. Heidegger’s Polemos: From Being to Politics. London: Yale University Press, 2000. Goetz, Benoît. La dislocation, Architecture et philosophie. Paris: les Éd. de La Passion, 2001.

Threshold spaces are singular spaces 23 Goffman, Erving. Behaviour in Public Places: Notes on Social Organization of Gatherings. New York: The Free Press, 1963. Habermas, Jürgen. The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (1962). Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1989. Harvey, David. The Condition of Postmodernity: An Enquiry into the Origins of Cultural Change. Oxford: B. Blackwell, 1989. Hensel, Michael U., and Turko, Jeffrey P., eds. Grounds and Envelopes. Abingdon: Routledge, 2015. Huyghe, Pierre-Damien. Le devenir-peinture. Paris: Ed L’Harmattan, Coll Esthétiques, 1996. Kohn, Margaret. Brave New Neighborhoods: The Privatization of Public Space. Abingdon: Routledge, 2004. Lefebvre, Henri. The Production of Space (1974). Oxford: Blackwell, 1991. Levine, Morton H. “Privacy in the Tradition of the Western World.” In Bier, William. C., ed. Privacy, a Vanishing Value? New York: Fordham University Press, 1980. 3–21. Lukács, György. “Reification and the Consciousness of the Proletariat.” In History and Class Consciousness: Studies in Marxist Dialectics (1923). Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1972. 83–222. Lynch, Kevin. A Theory of Good City Form. Cambridge, London: The MIT Press, 1981. Lynch, Kevin. What Time is This Place? Cambridge, London: The MIT Press, 1972. Lyotard, Jean-Francois, Que peindre?. Hermann: Paris, 2008. Madanipour, Ali. Design of Urban Space. New York: Wiley, 1996. Madanipour, Ali. Public and Private Spaces of the City. London: Routledge, 2003. Maldiney, Henri. L’art, l’éclair de l’être, Seyssel: Ed. Comp’act, Coll. Scalène, 1993. Memmott, Paul, and Davidson, James. “Exploring a Cross-Cultural Theory of Architecture.” In Traditional Dwellings and Settlements Review 19:2 (2008), 51–68. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. La structure du comportement (1942). Paris: PUF, Coll. Quadrige, 1990. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. Le primat de la perception et ses conséquences philosophiques (1946). Lagrasse: Verdier, Coll. Philosophie, 1996. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. Phénoménologie de la perception (1945). Paris: Gallimard, Coll. Tel, vol. 4, 1976. Meschonnic, Henri. Critique du rythme. Anthropologie historique du langage. Lagrasse: Verdier, 1982. Parkinson, John. Democracy and Public Space: The Physical Sites of Democratic Performance. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Plato. Timaeus. London: Penguin, 2008. Rapoport, Amos. “Some Further Thoughts on Culture and Environment.” In Archnet-IJAR 2:1 (2008), 16–39. Sennett, Richard. The Uses of Disorder: Personal Identity and City Life. London: Allen Lane The Penguin Press, 1971. Straus, Erwin. Du sens des sens: contribution à l’étude des fondements de la psychologie 1935. Grenoble: J. Millon, coll. Krisis, 2000. Tiedemann, Rolf. “Einleitung des Herausgebers.” In Benjamin, Walter . Gesammelte SchriftenV. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1991. 34–37.

24 Thresholds: some theoretical background Toloudi, Zenovia. “Are We in the Midst of a Public Space Crisis?” In The Conversation. 2016. 14 April 2021 https://theconversation.com/are-we-in-themidst-of-a-public-space-crisis-56124. Varna, George, and Tiesdell, Steve. “Assessing the Publicness of Public Space: The Star Model of Publicness.” In Journal of Urban Design 15:4 (2010), 575–598. Walzer, Michael. “Pleasures and Cost of Urbanity.” In Dissent 33 (1986), 470–484. Wood, Patricia K., and Gilbert, Liete. “Multiculturalism in Canada: Accidental Discourse, Alternative Vision, Urban Practice.” In International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 29 (2005), 679–691.

2

Threshold spaces express dialectics

Threshold spaces are singular and display tensions1 Singular space Unlike more well-defined, function-determined architectural spaces, thresholds intertwine public and semi-private space, and are thus, using Benjamin’s de­ finition, “singular.” Benjamin developed philosophical analyses of einzigartig (singular) artworks and singularities in shapes of everyday life (Benjamin 1999, 21–22). He was especially interested in the singularity of Baudelaire’s poetry (Benjamin 1999, 806; Benjamin 1991V, 405, 1233). As a child, Benjamin was fascinated by the “inside-out sock;” that is, the sock turned in on itself, with its singular links between interior and exterior (Benjamin 1987, 58). I systematise the concept of singularity to architecture and consider sin­ gular architecture that meets the following criteria: a b c

neither strictly an interior nor exterior space neither strictly individual nor collective, it offers scope for shared use and a mix of individual uses neither strictly private nor public.2

An analysis of Benjamin’s main architectural examples in his writings re­ veals that they are singular architectures. Not all singular architectures are matrices of “collective dreams,” as mentioned in the preamble. This part of the book explores the characteristics of the Arcades, Naples and the Yokohama Ferry Terminal as singular architectures, considering how those characteristics relate to their social context and thus could potentially be metaphors for changes in society. In order to be considered as a metaphor for changes in society, archi­ tecture needs to affect the crowd, consciously and unconsciously. This part also studies if the Yokohama Ferry Terminal significantly affects social life to acquire political agency.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-2

26 Thresholds: some theoretical background The Passage Jouffroy, as seen in Figure 2.1, is a threshold space situated between the exterior open-air public space and the interiors of the shops and habitations on level one. The design of this Arcade, like other Parisian Arcades, is determined by the requirements for public space, for shops, and habitations. The open space of the city penetrates the block to create the facades of the shops within, thus capturing the crowd. Making public space an interior passage is linked to strategies of merchandising that make one captive to prompt purchases. The architecture serves the development of consumption and of the commodification of goods and people. The merchandise is made visible in windows, and people can see as well as can be seen. This is ex­ emplified by Benjamin’s description of the prostitute (Benjamin 1999, 10). Singular architecture enables these contradictions. As analysed by Benjamin, drawing on the work of Siegfried Giedion, the space of private apartments situated above the shops are also directed to­ wards the Arcade, allowing for the life of the Arcade to penetrate the interior of the apartments (Benjamin 1991V, 493; Benjamin 1999, 423). These apartments on the floor above maintain some privacy (for example, through blinds), but still enable inhabitants to overlook the Arcade. Thus, architecture fulfils a multitude of sometimes contradictory social roles.

Figure 2.1 François-Hippolyte Destailleur and Romain de Bourges. Passage Jouffroy, Paris, 1836. Photograph: Wikimedia Commons. Diagram of threshold space. Diagram by the author. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Passage_@ _Paris_(28653758165).jpg

Threshold spaces express dialectics 27 The social meaning of architecture For architecture to have a political impact, it is a prerequisite that it has a social meaning. There are numerous ways to relate to the social context, and the examples of the Arcades represent one of these ways. This de­ scription of the Arcades draws firstly on relations between this architecture and its social context. Considerations about public, semi-public, and semi-private spaces of the architectural programme affect the spatial configuration of architecture during the design process. Because it is situated at the intersection of dif­ ferent spaces, the design of the threshold encapsulates tensions created by the requirements and possible usages of the different adjacent spaces. That is, in the case of the Arcades, social hierarchies of the Haussmannian building, the logic of the merchandise, and the theatricality of a society staging itself. If we consider the architecture of a major space shaped by an array of “forces” that determined its final design, then the architecture of the threshold is drawn according to two or more “fields of forces.” The differences between these fields of forces create the resulting “tensions” in the finalised building. The Arcades are the iconic Benjaminian example of an architecture as product of the social context of the nineteenth century. The singularity of the Arcades and the tensions between spaces can affect people’s behaviours, and thus be political. For the nineteenth century, Benjamin considered a wide array of concrete and material characteristics, signs and spectacles, commodities, construc­ tions, and spatial organisations. The behaviours and social constructs of the urban are exemplified in the nineteenth-century flânerie, dandyism, spleen, prostitution, ennui, fetishism of merchandise, capitalism (see Chapter 12), and universal exhibitions. The diffuse characteristics of social contexts af­ fect the spatial configurations of public spaces and public buildings. Museums, Arcades, cinemas, and theatres are some examples of archi­ tecture that express the behaviours and social constructs of the urban. The public interior of the Paris Opera by Charles Garnier reflects the social dynamics of the Bourgeois society of the nineteenth century. The social context affects their spatial characteristics, such as the links between in­ terior and exterior, and between public and semi-private space. The iconic example of how a socio-political context is expressed in physical public space is the Athenian Agora, which is considered as the emergence of the concept of public space. In ancient Greece, the agora was the gathering place of the city. It was an essential aspect of the concept of polis, and the concept of civilisation. It was the place of democratic institutions, of political and also religious buildings. The agora was the centre of social life and a place to walk around, philosophising with friends. The Pnyx was a place of debate characterised by more formal architecture that enabled debates and

28 Thresholds: some theoretical background discussions. The Agora, the Pnyx, as well as, in other periods, the Roman forum, or the public piazzas in front of the Renaissance Palaces in Florence, reflect the political economy of their respective eras. These public spaces are spaces where a society stages itself and debates itself. The physical characteristics of architecture do not symbolise the social context per se, but set a frame for these expressions of dialectics, a frame for these social interactions. Architecture “orchestrates” these social interac­ tions. When they result from some characteristics of the social context in a precise or imprecise, simple or complex, direct or indirect way, archi­ tectures can be named “metonymies” of the social context. This relation to the social context can be of different natures, including in counterpoint with their social context. Critical Theory considers the relationship between cultural works and the social context, such as the relation between “infrastructure” and “super­ structure.” Superstructure is a term used mainly in Marxist analysis to refer to the institutions and practices that sustain and legitimise the existing social order. Superstructure is also everything that relates to knowledge and culture, and therefore to the formation of the subject, either individual or collective (Lukács 1971). For Lukács, social milieu and class consciousness are fun­ damental to the production of knowledge. The superstructure is determined by (and embodied in) the infrastructure, which Lukács sees as the basic so­ cioeconomic relations or relations of production that provide the basis on which a society is organised or develops. In this book, the infrastructure can be considered as the architecture that defines relations between spaces and views between spaces, that frame and enables social interactions. In the same manner as the links between superstructure and infra­ structure, and because they are affected by various force fields of the social context, thresholds have links with the dialectics of the social context (see Chapter 12 for a description of some socio-political “dialectics”). The nature of these links varies from case to case. Tensions in the architecture of threshold spaces Thresholds display tensions because of the differences between adjacent spaces and because of the dialectics of public space. In each architectural project, the set of tensions created between different spaces can be analysed using envelopes. Figure 2.2 shows the passage through a succession of spaces in the Yokohama Ferry Terminal (YFT). Designed in 1994–1995 by Foreign Office Architects (FOA), the former practice of Alejandro Zaera-Polo and Farshid Moussavi, and completed in 2002, the YFT is a partly publicly accessible building. The architectural design of the building entices visitors to move on the outer deck, and then through the building. Twists in the deck create complex junctions between interior and exterior, and the

Figure 2.2 FOA, Yokohama Ferry Terminal, 2002. Photographs: Wikimedia Commons, ©準建築人手札網站 Forgemind ArchiMedia Creative Commons, and author. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Osanbashi_Passenger_Terminal_-_Satoru_ Mishima.jpg. https://www.flickr.com/photos/eager/5092344971

Threshold spaces express dialectics 29

30 Thresholds: some theoretical background merging of decking with ramps and steps further complicates the statuses of spaces. The building is experienced as a succession of spaces that have no strict boundaries. The public coexists in some areas with the passengers and the personnel of the Terminal who transit from the city to the sea. They all pass through the open-air public space of the deck, which in­ cludes public circulation and a car drop area. The Main Terminal is open to the public, as are the shops, restaurants, exhibition spaces, and the Hall of Civic Exchange. It is a publicly accessible array of spaces, until the semi-private space for passengers embarking on ferries. It displays mul­ tiple interior and exterior threshold spaces (Kimmel 2020a) so that the public can share the “dream” of travel as part of their experience of the public space. The Ferry Terminal is not a classical enclosed semi-private space that only travellers can access but also partakes in the social life of the city. In the YFT case, envelopes correspond to the way the building has been designed by the architects. During the design process, FOA worked with a field of forces that followed the requirements of the programme, con­ sidering elements of the overall context. At the initial stages of the design process, the architects referred to a field of forces that represented the re­ quired social functions of the building as outlined in the client’s guidelines. Zaera-Polo expressed his sympathy with the ideological stance of the edi­ tors of the book Grounds and Envelopes, “which revolves around the notion that the processes of the built environment affecting grounds and envelopes are determined by certain forces which transcend the local, and yet are affected by it” (Zaera-Polo 2015, xiii). These forces include those from the natural context of ecosystems and geology, and from the social context of “economies, political systems” (Díaz Moreno and García Grinda 2003, 23) of “late capitalism” (Zaera-Polo 2015, xiii). FOA transformed “urban conditions … into buildings,” through technique and instruments. “Technique arose as a natural mediator, as an instrument that enables us to operate while remaining external to the situation” (Díaz Moreno and García Grinda 2003, 11). There is a “very instrumental, operative vision” in FOA’s design process that centres on the production of a new topological grid enabled by computational design tools (Ibid., 13). Zaera-Polo confirmed FOA’s intention to: shift from the parallel transversal grid of the competition entry to a new topological grid … In moving from Cartesian space to one where the reference system changes, the project overcame the outdated technique of parallel sections, which had become a cliché in attempts to capture the liquid spaces of late capitalism … The building was the outcome of a radical process of formal determination, rather than mere deforma­ tion or sought-after aesthetic effects. (Zaera-Polo 2016, 299)

Threshold spaces express dialectics 31 Hence, according to the architects, the field of forces of the social context was applied to envelopes, especially their first sketch version, using techniques and instruments, such as the topological grid (Zaera-Polo 2008, 205–206): The current proliferation of alternative political practices, such as trends, movements, and other affect-driven political forms, runs parallel to the development of envelopes that resist primitive models of faciality, that are no longer structured on the oppositions between front and back, private and public, or roof and wall. Once cornices, corners, and windows are no longer technically necessary, and the private and public are tangled in an increasingly complex relationship, the hierarchies of the interface become more complex: the envelope has become a field where identity, security, and environmental performances intersect. (Zaera-Polo 2008, 199) Is the YFT singular? The similarity of the YFT’s shape to Benjamin’s “inside-out sock” makes one think so. To further determine whether the YFT is an example of singular architecture, one needs to consider its in­ teriority/exteriority, function, and status. In terms of interiority/exteriority, the building is predominantly experi­ enced as an “exterior as interior.” The building’s cross-sections show more enclosed interiors, such as those within the structure of lateral V-shaped pillars. There are also reserves for interior places, such as hidden service trenches, and also publicly accessible pathways. As noted by Toyo Ito, “In this project the architecture is nothing more than a point of passage” (Ito 2000, 87). The building has no facade (Ibid., 84). The YFT is singular in terms of links between interior and exterior. In terms of usage, the building is traversed by collective spaces of two kinds: those that are accessible to the public, and those that are reserved for passengers. In both cases, the collective space presents areas that accom­ modate individual use: soft grass and some shaded areas on the deck, seating areas in the Main Terminal and the Lobbies. In the Lobbies, which are not accessible to the public, there are more areas for collective use, less for individual use, including waiting and other areas for small groups. These uses are defined in an open and fluid progression, coexisting suffi­ ciently to create smooth frictions between people. Through constant links between open-air public space and interior public spaces, visitors can reg­ ularly negotiate between a collective and an individual experience. In terms of status, the building predominantly comprises freely accessible public spaces. The “Rooftop Square” is the part of the deck that hosts public events. The areas that are accessible only by passengers appear as proxy public spaces, owing to their visual connections with the exterior. A transparent window at the scale of the building divides those who wish to

32 Thresholds: some theoretical background board a ferry from the public, thus creating a physical separation by keeping visual links. Even where access is restricted, the feel of a public space is thus retained. As in modern airports and transit areas, privately operated shops and restaurants are connected to the main public pathways. Private places that are reserved for personnel are in a minority. As such, YFT’s status is primarily public but intertwined with private uses. It follows that the YFT is an example of singular architecture, as the building cannot be defined by a single function or status. FOA have ex­ pressed their general intention to design “specific” architectures. They have suggested that what is “of interest for us about the current situation is that we now have these technologies that enable us to produce individuals out of generic systems, and systems out of merging of individuals” (Díaz Moreno and García Grinda 2003, 20). The word “individuals” describes their ar­ chitecture better than the word “type,” and the use of the word “in­ dividuals” confirms that “types” serve only at the start of the design process. The use of Moebius strip-like shapes enables them to arrange different spaces of interiority/exteriority, function, and status in a con­ tinuous system. FOA have explained that defined types (in opposition to singular) are important as a starting point (Díaz Moreno and García Grinda 2003, 23), but through the design process these types were eventually “erased.” As such, the final project cannot be analysed through types. FOA have described the outcome of this field of forces of urban conditions ap­ plied to envelopes as shapes that are not clearly defined as floors, walls, and ceilings. Nonetheless, the resulting built fabric remains “structured.” Zaera-Polo has insisted that the shapes are neither determinate nor in­ determinate. Envelopes are “formed” to “maintain distinct architectural traits” of spaces (Hensel and Turko 2015, 144). This description of the YFT project suggests that the building manifests characteristics that we have earlier identified with “singular” architecture. As a result, this intertwining of spaces of different statuses and usage creates what we have called “tensions” between spaces. The spatial continuities enable circulation of people, and thus social interactions and frictions. The undulating topography of the deck and the different spaces of the Terminal offer various two-way view cones between interiors and exteriors, so that the “society” of visitors of the Terminal “stages itself.” However, there are differences of status and usage between the interior and exterior spaces, connected by threshold spaces. These “tensions” in the “inner core” of the lobbies with restricted access areas after the security check, are of a different nature than the friction between people in the public space. The constraints on movement and ac­ tions are strongly dictated by the rules and norms of the lobbies. There is a tension between the organising function of the lobby and individual be­ haviours. The “collective dream” is not the same in the different spaces of

Threshold spaces express dialectics 33 the YFT. The people who are already in the lobby are captivated by con­ sumerist dreams: remaining loyal customers of the ferry company, buying food and drink, buying souvenirs, and so on. People on the deck can both dream of buying themselves a cruise and think freely about something else, while looking at the landscape. Interpersonal relations prevail over relations between people and the YFT as an institution and a business.

Singular architecture with impact on people Envelopes of spaces and effect on people Every singular architecture challenges visitors to negotiate their movement and activity in a specific way, especially in the threshold. The tensions affect people’s behaviours. Identifying a singular architecture is the first step in identifying archi­ tectures that, through their spatial organisation, have political agency. Here, “the political” refers to architecture’s capacity, through its technical and social characteristics, to affect the conscious collective experience and, more importantly, the unconscious collective experience—that is, the col­ lective dream—thereby changing society. These architectures are diverse. They include pervasive architecture, such as the bourgeois interior (Benjamin 1999, 8–9, 19–20) and publicly accessible collective archi­ tectures (such as the Arcade). Continuously occupied or traversed by the public, the Arcades directly address the unconscious of the crowd. Another example of how singular architecture expresses social culture and affects people is the city of Naples, described by Benjamin and Asja Lãcis. The wide array of threshold spaces in Naples ranges from the thresholds of individual dwellings to collective courtyards and public buildings. For example, a balcony has a size, shape, height, and orientation, that sets it in relation to the width and the level of the space of the street below, to the interior of the apartment, and to other balconies. Here is a description of buildings of Naples in terms of interrelated spaces: Buildings are used as a popular stage. They are all divided into innumerable, simultaneously animated theatres. Balcony, courtyards, windows, gateways, staircases, and roofs are at the same time stage and boxes … What is enacted on the staircases is a high school of stage management. The stairs, never entirely exposed … erupt fragmentarily from the buildings, make an angular turn, and disappear, only to burst out again. (Benjamin and Lãcis 1996, 417) The way people used balconies in Naples resulted in the construction of balconies as a buffer between large-scale public spaces and private envelopes.

34 Thresholds: some theoretical background Behaviours on the balcony relate to both spaces. People can “perform” these “social tensions” in architectural space. Balconies, and more generally all threshold spaces, are therefore significant to the lives of a wide range of people. Naples as a city exerts an impact and acquires a political meaning. As a generalisation of Benjamin and Lãcis’ observations, we can say that singular architecture affects people. Architecture as a cause of the effect on people creates a second metonymy. Overall, architecture is a double me­ tonymy (both a consequence of the social context and a cause of effects on people). The example of Naples shows that “metaphors for changes in society” are not only phantasmagorias but can be supported by free collective dreams. These metaphors can be an array of small-scale threshold spaces scattered throughout the city, thus affecting everyday life. They allow visitors to “perform” frictions or conflicts between different behaviours, usages, and statuses. The array of Naples threshold spaces as small theatres of social life affects the crowd, an effect we define as political. The impact of the architecture of the Yokohama Ferry Terminal on people: political meaning FOA explained how the form of the YFT is a “mediating device” that works like a “social machine.” The artefact will operate as a mediating device between the two large social machines that make up the new institution: the system of public spaces of Yokohama and the management of cruise-passenger flow. The components are used as a device for reciprocal de-territorialisation: a public space that wraps around the terminal, neglecting its symbolic presence as a gate, decodifying the rituals of travel, and a functional structure which becomes the mould of an a-typological public space, a landscape with no instructions for occupation. [This de-territorialisation counters] the effects of rigid segmentation usually produced by social mechanisms, especially those dedicated to maintaining borders. (Moussavi and Zaera-Polo 2000, 88) Serving both as a mediating device and a political agent, this topology3 forms a stage for the orchestration of people’s behaviours. The project functions like an intertwining of stage spaces for the different communities of visitors, “from local citizens to foreign visitors, from flâneur to business travellers, from voyeur to exhibitionists, from performers to spectators” (Moussavi and Zaera-Polo 2000, 89). The reconfiguration of people in space emphasises the political aspect of this architecture. The building is “an ideal battlefield where the strategic position of a small number of

Threshold spaces express dialectics 35 elements will substantially affect the definition of the frontier” (Moussavi and Zaera-Polo 2000, 93). The negotiation between different communities of visitors constitutes the politics of public and private space in the building. Through a complex programme that intertwines public and semi-private spaces, and the use of porous partitions, these staged areas of nonhierarchical relations between observers and the architectural environment are more sophisticated than those of the Arcades. The topological work on envelopes that fluctuates at different times of the day enables FOA to create a building with a political meaning. Zaera-Polo has argued that the fields of forces symbolising the capitalist economic context tends to erase differences and set all shapes of our built environment in continuous varying curves. FOA has deliberately adopted this characteristic of modern capitalism but in a manner that turns the process into an act of resistance. The topology both enables and resists the continuous flow of people by creating frictions between different commu­ nities of visitors. “This is where a new discipline of the envelope becomes politically operative” (Zaera-Polo 2008, 203). Zaera-Polo has also referred to the “politics of the envelope,” as he believes that “the envelope [is] an optimal domain to explore the politicisation of architecture” (Zaera-Polo 2008, 202). For these politics of the envelope, Zaera-Polo referred to Bruno Latour and Peter Sloterdijk (Spencer 2016, 124–125). In addition to the YFT, such intentions have also been put to the test in FOA’s Meydan Complex project in Istanbul. As the YFT is affected by the social context (the first metonymic relation), and affects people (the second metonymic relation), the link between ar­ chitecture and social context is tight. These links are tight because the YFT intertwines a public space as threshold space, and a building as Threshold Architecture. This characteristic is similar to the Arcades, and also to a project that will be discussed in next chapters, the Oslo Opera House. The YFT differs from a classical ferry terminal that is less connected to public space. The YFT design emphasises connections with public space, thus enabling the freedom of the flâneur (the function prompts dreaming of travel, and the landscape, the sea, and the sky prompt imagination), while at the same time making visitors captive to prompt purchases, through strategies of merchandising (the encapsulated manufactured dream). To say that the YFT is a metaphor for changes in society, like the Arcades, would require identification of its greater impact on the broader population of Yokohama and visitors. This may be a challenging argument to sustain and may need some distance from the present to identify these effects. The YFT is not as iconic of the society of its time as the Arcades were, given that it is just one building rather than a pervasive topology, and is not occupied densely and continuously by the public. Nevertheless, the YFT is an iconic building in the context of the debates among professionals today, which confirms the dialectics at work in this project.

36 Thresholds: some theoretical background

Notes 1 This part builds on a previous publication by the author (Kimmel 2020a). 2 Benjamin identified singular “characters” that are not reduced to “types” as these were defined in Ernst Jünger’s work. For Benjamin, “type” is too restricted to a function or status as seen in the example of the “worker” (Benjamin 1991III, 238–250; Jünger 2017). 3 In topology, the relation between shapes can be the same, while other geometrical aspects are different (to cite just one example, the sphere, the cube, and the pyramid are topologically equivalent). As topology emphasises properties and spatial relationships, it remains “disinterested” in the transformation of shapes. This disinterest enables topology to detach the issue of shape from that of structure and form.

References Benjamin, Walter, and Lãcis, Asja. “Naples.” In Bullock, Marcus, and Jennings, Michael W. eds. Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, 1: 1913–1926. Cambridge, MA, London: Belknap Press, 1996. 414–421. Benjamin, Walter. “Das Passagen Werk.” In Gesammelte Schriften V, 1991V. Benjamin, Walter. “Der Strumpf.” In Berliner Kindheit um 1900. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1987. 58. Benjamin, Walter. “Paris, the Capital of the Nineteenth Century—Exposé of 1935.” In The Arcades Project. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999. 3–13. Benjamin, Walter. “Theorien des deutschen Faschismus: Zu der Sammelschrift ‘Krieg und Krieger’ Herausgegeben von Ernst Jünger.” In Gesammelte Schriften III. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1991III. 238–250. Benjamin, Walter. Gesammelte Schriften V. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1991V. Benjamin, Walter. The Arcades Project. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999. Díaz Moreno, Cristina, and García Grinda, Efrén. “Complexity and Consistency: A Conversation with Farshid Moussavi and Alejandro Zaera.” In Foreign Office Architects 1996–2003, El Croquis 115–116 (2003), 6–29. Hensel, Michael U., and Turko, Jeffrey P. Grounds and Envelopes. London: Routledge, 2015. Ito, Toyo. “Yokohama International Port Terminal.” In 2G Revista international de arquitectura 16 (2000), 84–87. Jünger, Ernst. The Worker: Dominion and Form. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2017. Kimmel, Laurence. “Walter Benjamin’s Topology of Envelopes and Perspectives.” In Journal of Architecture 25 (2020a), 659–678. Lukács, György. History and Class Consciousness 1923, London: Merlin Press, 1971. Moussavi, Farshid, and Zaera-Polo, Alejandro. “Yokohama International Port Terminal.” In 2G Revista international de arquitectura 16 (2000), 88–105. Spencer, Douglas. The Architecture of Neoliberalism: How Contemporary Architecture Became an Instrument of Control and Compliance. London: Bloomsbury, 2016.

Threshold spaces express dialectics 37 Zaera-Polo, Alejandro. “Foreword: Grounds and Envelopes.” In Hensel, Michael U., and Turko, Jeffrey P., eds. Grounds and Envelopes. London: Routledge, 2015. xiii. Zaera-Polo, Alejandro. “Roller Coaster Construction Revisited.” In Aragüez, José, ed. The Building. Zürich: Lars Müller, 2016. 84–92. Zaera-Polo, Alejandro. “The Politics of the Envelope: A Political Critique of Materialism.” In Log 13/14 (Fall 2008), 193–207.

3

Observations on Threshold spaces

Threshold Architecture enables agency Because Threshold Architecture is perceived as spatial and not in an objective or photogenic way, the emphasis of threshold spaces is on social activities enabled by these spaces. Thresholds are linked to the surrounding spatial context, and thus to the surrounding social context. The visitor is constantly reminded of the social reality of the architectural experience. The subjectivity of the visitor is therefore inscribed in their interaction with other people within the social context. Since an individual subject has the freedom to move and act in unexpected ways, the primary character of the threshold is the experience of negotiation between people. The potential to exercise agency is inherent in public space (by definition) and as such, agency is common to both public space and threshold space. That is, each individual subject has some form of agency in the threshold. Unlike the agency that is possible in open-air public space, the agency of people in threshold spaces is framed by the architecture and the function of the building. People can more easily build subjectivities in relation to the functions and usages inside public interiors. Is there collective agency? The “collective body” exists in this context when there is an intersubjective “we-experience” of the group or crowd, even if this experience is momentary. People can have this we-experience by sharing the same interest in being in a space, behaving similarly, or doing a similar thing, such as the trivial example of being in the same space, or walking at a similar pace (for example, one person running through the Arcades would not be considered part of the collective body). A “collective body” arises when people are no longer individuals, but “differences of intensities” in the way they behave or act in relation to one another. This emergence of a collective body can happen consciously or unconsciously. Architecture is political if it affects the crowd. The pinnacle of the political effect is when architecture has the capacity to create a “collective body” from the sum of the individuals present at a given time, and to repeat that event.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-3

Observations on Threshold spaces 39 Thresholds enhance the agency of the collective body of people using the building, because this collective body is constantly redefined as the disparate, individual entities present in public space join or leave the collective body (for example, some of the people in the street join the collective that wanders through the Arcades or enters the YFT). The people in the Arcades constitute more of a collective body than people in the streets. The individual’s potential for agency is also valid for the collective. Threshold spaces contribute to individual and collective agency. This will be further developed in chapter 15.

The emancipatory potential of architecture according to Critical Theory Critical Theory is an appropriate philosophical tool for understanding the benefits of public space to society and for embracing the contradictions of Threshold Architecture. It enables consideration of architecture as a product of society. The school that propagated Critical Theory was formed in 1923 at the University of Frankfurt, under the name Institute for Social Research. According to the school’s founder Max Horkheimer The Critical Theory of society … has for its object men as producers of their own historical way of life in its totality …. Every datum depends not on nature alone but also on the power man has over it. (Horkheimer 1972, 244) Critical Theory was developed in opposition to traditional philosophy inherited from Descartes. The theory attempts to explain the totality of social reality in its contradictions. Some critiques of Critical Theory raise the issue that this philosophical approach is too inscribed in its own time, that is, in the specific social context of the 1920s and 1930s. However, if we use the same methodology and apply it in a specific period, it is exactly this inscription within a specific social era that explains architecture in the social context of that specific era. What is the emancipatory potential of architecture? In contrast to classical theory, Critical Theory also considers the emancipatory potential of cultural works, in this case architecture, and the emancipation of humankind in general. Emancipation relates to freedom from any excessive authority or constraints, and equality regardless of any individual’s character. The question of emancipation is, in my opinion, crucial, because the question of freedom is primary in the legacy of the Enlightenment. The question of emancipation is affiliated with the concept of freedom, but also includes, in its definition and in its processes, the idea

40 Thresholds: some theoretical background of limits of freedom. For example, limits on cultural hybridisation are necessary for the emancipation of a cultural community. In architecture, spatial limits are necessary for the emancipation of people and communities in the architectural spaces described in this book. The emancipatory potential of architecture can obviously be considered as the potential for public space to enable freedom and negotiation of people in that space. Marxist concepts are fundamental references for the generation of Critical Theory. This is because Marxist concepts of surplus value, social contradictions, and so on, have an intimate relationship with human emancipation (Marx 1967, 226–227). The emancipatory potential of architecture can be further understood through the writings of the first generation of Critical Theory. Of the firstgeneration thinkers, Benjamin is the most optimistic regarding art and architecture and their influence on society. He offers a less obvious answer to the question of the emancipatory potential of architecture. Benjamin was a critical theorist without being a formal member of the Institute; however, he was supported financially and intellectually by members, especially Adorno. Unlike Adorno’s more pessimistic views about popular culture, Benjamin developed positive views, encapsulated in his suggestion that Shock can create an emancipatory experience. As discussed in chapter 1, Shock is the unexpected disorientation created by some architectures. The effect is more violent in the definition given by Benjamin. Of interest here are the dynamics and contradictions encapsulated in the concept of Shock. Benjamin’s Shock Theory describes the “violent” experience felt by people when confronted by a new cultural product, especially in the context of mass consumption, produced through novel fabrication processes. This violent experience is felt by people because they cannot grasp the process of an observed artwork. In cinema, for example, people see disconnected images that are difficult to process for those that have not become familiar with the medium. In Mickey Mouse’s dream world, where objects have no weight, the viewer is disconnected from the work. The reified aspect of cinema works produced by such novel fabrication processes and the speed of their images exert violence on the spectator. As spectators in front of the technological product of these novel means of fabrication, people have the capacity to enter a state of consciousness via their reaction to the spectacle in front of them (Benjamin 1991I, 732; Benjamin 1999, 325, 375, 383). The upside of Shock, according to Benjamin, is that it can destroy bourgeois subjectivity, or what remained of it in the period. Benjamin saw an emancipatory potential in these new techniques, where Adorno saw only a decline and reification of culture. In architecture, this phenomenon of Shock can lead to a “crisis of the experience” of the subject, that embraces the effects on the body and its movement and behaviour, as well as on visual perception. The effect of the perception of hybrid spaces and the encounter of diverse semi-private usages are less violent than that of new technologies and innovative arts. Other learnings for architecture come from the second generation school of

Observations on Threshold spaces 41 Critical Theory. Following the re-opening of the Institute after the Second World War, the term “Frankfurt School” was adopted. This secondgeneration school was that of Jürgen Habermas, who had a moderate critical position often termed “pragmatic compromise.” Habermas thought that the program of Critical Theory needed to be reinvented following what he considered to be the defeat of Marxist ideas. Even though widely criticised for anchoring the definition of public space in the bourgeois sphere, Habermas’ theory of public space is a central element of his philosophy. We will see in Chapter 15 that the concept of Thresholds is akin to Nancy Fraser’s critical position on Habermas’ theory (Fraser 1989; Fraser and Naples 2004). Fraser, however, remains affiliated with Habermas’ thought. Axel Honneth, who represents the third generation of the Frankfurt School, shares this pragmatic compromise position with Habermas. Given the extreme dynamic of differentiation of knowledge in the Modern period, Horkheimer wanted to consolidate a very broad range of skills and specialities. The Institute was a place where philosophers, sociologists, economists, historians, and psychoanalysts/psychologists came together to try to understand and articulate the contradictory tendencies of society. Combined, the different members created the multidisciplinary and interdisciplinary methodology of Critical Theory which enables one to grasp all aspects of the political economy. Critical Theory is a philosophy that keeps the sense of the universal and extends philosophical analysis by other means in changing contexts. For example, to understand what justice and truth mean in the modern capitalist society of this time, the theory uses a plurality of perspectives and attempts to articulate the plurality of these perspectives. Critical Theory’s philosophical methodology is scientific, underpinned by a belief in a form of the universal that is inherited from the Enlightenment Period. In The Present Situation of Social Philosophy and the Tasks of an Institute for Social Research (1931), Horkheimer provided a general philosophical framework and explained how this scientific method adapts to human sciences (Horkheimer 1993). The intellectual aim of Critical Theory is the emancipation of reason in a manner inherited from the Enlightenment period. This reason is no longer that of the eighteenth century but is reason enriched by developments in human sciences. Critical Theory is the deepening of the Enlightenment by a self-critical reason (Rousseau, Marx, and Freud). Critical Theorists are not conservatives who criticise the Enlightenment, but progressive thinkers who identify possibilities (of emancipation) through critical thinking. In summary, all three generations of Critical Theorists have developed tools to discuss the emancipation enabled by architecture of public space. A second notion of emancipation is defined by the Benjaminian phenomenon of Shock and what it allows. The Mickey Mouse cartoon represents creativity and potential for emancipation according to Benjamin. The “techniques” of Threshold Architecture are techniques for the spatial

42 Thresholds: some theoretical background organisation of architecture, including design tools. By a phenomenon comparable to the reception of the cartoon, a building experienced by the crowd, which could at first sight be strongly linked to commercial strategies or to spectacle, could paradoxically lead to emancipation. The paradox comes from the fact that these effects are imposed on the collective body and are opposed to the idea of freedom inherent in public space. Other effects could be added to this list of commercial and logical performance strategies acting on the collective body, such as technological innovations in the building sector (which are not directly discussed in this book). The precise conditions of the architecture must be studied to determine an emancipatory potential in this context. Does Threshold Architecture, in particular, have emancipatory potential? The question of “if” and “why” the Yokohama Ferry Terminal (YFT) discussed in Chapter 2 could have emancipatory potential reveals differences between two categories of buildings: •

•

The first category is buildings that exclusively capture people in the logic and function of the semi-private building, like classical ferry terminals, airports, or shopping centres, etc. The visitor is attuned with the specific logic and function of the building and feels intense interior tensions that cannot be ignored or countered. These buildings relate to manufacted dreams and include phantasmagorias. The second category is Threshold Architecture, that is, architecture mainly composed of threshold spaces intertwining semi-private space with public space. Unlike classical semi-private interiors, Threshold Architecture activates the dialectics between the captive customers and their freedom to act and think. The building’s continuity with public spaces enables comparatively more freedom of action and thought, as with the Parisian Arcades. Continuously occupied or traversed by the non- Ferry-travelling public, the YFT directly addresses the unconsciousness of the crowd.

Both the classical ferry terminal and the “Threshold YFT” display tensions, but in different ways. Threshold Architecture seems, from our study of the YFT, to have an emancipatory potential without “shocking” people. The architecture challenges the relationships between the interior and exterior and questions the very nature of what is public and what is private space. In a contemporary context, public buildings that negotiate, by their spatial organisation, the changing relationship between public and semi-private space reflect current social and political attitudes towards these relationships. The stakeholders developing and operating classical ferry terminals and shopping centres are less motivated to create emancipatory spaces since they do not intend to question our public and private lives as Threshold Architecture does.

Observations on Threshold spaces 43 The iconic historical examples of architectures that question our public and private lives are democratic architectures (in the sense of good nonbourgeois democracy (Benjamin 1999, 761–62)). A society that reflects on its nature, in this case on the links between the public and the private sphere, expresses that nature through its built fabric and specific public spaces. Writing in The Arcades Project, Benjamin argues that a society’s democratic stance is fundamentally reflected in its architecture to the extent that the social and political inflections of a society are transcribed in architecture’s spatial characteristics (Benjamin 1999, 17). As metaphors for society, public buildings hold a mirror to us. Architecture as an instrument of perception helps the discovery of an anthropological core, which equals the representation of its political core (Benjamin 1999, 652). The Athenian Agora and Pnyx, the Roman forum, and the public spaces in front of the Renaissance Palaces in Florence, are characterised by public spaces and buildings that are at the centre of public life. Therefore, it is clear that architecture can haveemancipatory potential, and Threshold Architecture in particular. For Benjamin, the architecture of defined types, shapes, styles, geometries, and functions does not contribute to emancipation. This is something that only a singular space or building can do, and in so doing, the singular architecture also overcomes the split between the public and the private spheres. For Benjamin, dialectics recall the lost union between the Individual and the Collective, in “singular” architectures, such as the cinema, the museum, the theatre, and the Arcade. To cite just one example, the theatre is both a place of social gathering and an individual’s experience of the play. The fact that boxes were set like interiors in Parisian theatres of the nineteenth century is not coincidental (Déotte 2012, 142). The singular can be both widespread and popular, such as the Parisian Arcades. But it was these Arcades’ characteristic irreducibility, their intertwining of interior and exterior spaces, that distinguished them as a metaphor for the social and political changes from the nineteenth to the twentieth century. Therefore, Benjamin analysed them as metaphors for change in the Late Modern period. Such examples are important for the Collective because these singular spaces are shared by the crowd. They are therefore significant to the lives of a wide range of people. As such, these architectures manifest socially and politically productive spatial relations within the built fabric. The precise conditions for the potential for emancipation of threshold spaces will be explored in the next chapters.

Applying the theory: key points for discussion in the following Parts In conclusion, Part I has drawn attention to some essential aspects of the architecture of threshold spaces that affect their political impact:

44 Thresholds: some theoretical background •

•

•

•

The discussion of the Arcades’ and the YFT’s characteristics makes it clear that the respective functions of each building are important. In Part II we will tackle an array of different functions for other publicly accessible buildings. The range of different functions will not be exhaustive but will hopefully embrace the functions that are most likely to benefit from threshold spaces, and conversely, most likely to benefit social life in the threshold space. Applying Benjamin’s philosophy reveals that the potential for the function of the building to make people dream is central to the political impact of the building. This aspect will be discussed further in Part II and III. We will also tackle artworks set in public space (or in a public museum) that enable us to understand how the dreamlike experience of the artwork affects people in space. In discussing the Arcades and the YFT, it became clear that an important challenge of the architecture of threshold spaces is the freedom of the visitor and the constraints they encounter. These dialectics between freedom and constraints relate directly to the nature of threshold spaces—that is, neither an enclosed interior nor an openair public space. In Part II and III, different architectural projects will be described from this viewpoint Part I shows that the notion of public space is central to understanding thresholds. The notion of public space and its relation to threshold space will be developed further in chapter 7.

References Benjamin, Walter. Gesammelte Schriften I. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1991I. Benjamin, Walter. “Baudelaire.” In The Arcades Project. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999. 228–387. Déotte, Jean-Louis. Walter Benjamin et la forme plastique. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2012. Fraser, Nancy and Naples, Nancy A. “To Interpret the World and to Change It: An Interview with Nancy Fraser.” In Signs 529:4 (2004), 1103–1124. Fraser, Nancy. Unruly Practices: Power, Discourse, and Gender in Contemporary Social Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989. Horkheimer, Max. “The Present Situation of Social Philosophy and the Tasks of an Institute for Social Research.” 1931. In Between Philosophy and Social Science. Selected Early Writings. Cambridge: MIT Press 1993, 1993. 1–14. Horkheimer, Max. “Postscript.” In Critical Theory (1972). New York: Continuum, 2002. 244–252. Marx, Karl. “On the Jewish Question.” In Easton, L. D., and Guddat, K. H., eds. Writings of the Young Marx on Philosophy and Society. Garden City: Anchor ed., 1967. 216–248.

Part II

Thresholds of buildings of different functions This Part brings together examples of different types of architectural pro­ grammes (architecture for culture, service areas in public building, retail shops, age-specific architectures) that display threshold spaces, via different architectural means. It defines the conditions required for an architecture to have political meaning owing to its threshold spaces. Political meaning essentially arises from negotiations of presence and movement of people in different spaces, negotiations that are inherent to the notion of Threshold. The architectural examples offered demonstrate the ability of their de­ signers to define thresholds and therefore to develop a socio-political meaning for their architectural works as a matrix for negotiations of space. Where appropriate, a critique of the projects is provided.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-102

4

Thresholds in cultural architecture

What is the role of threshold spaces in the relationship between museum spaces and adjacent public space? Cultural architecture sites, including museums, libraries, and cultural centres, are the preferred sites for archi­ tectural expression and experimentation. At these sites, there is usually more room for architectural innovation and expression of the con­ temporary context than in other programmes. The artistic quality of pro­ grammes at these sites is also more likely to be funded than at other sites. In the development of architecture since the Late Modern period, nu­ merous museums that display an intertwining of interior and exterior in innovative ways have been built. The way visitors perceive the transition spaces between exterior and interior reveals an elaborate positioning of the building in its physical context. In this chapter, I analyse the socio-political meaning of a number of examples in their context.

Thresholds as major spaces in cultural architecture There are many examples of museums with threshold spaces. In this chapter, we will discuss a small subset characterised by high architectural quality and the richness of the social interactions they inspire. The first examples include Álvaro Siza Vieira’s Fundação Serralves in Oporto (1999) and the Fundação Iberê Camargo in Porto Alegre, Brazil (2007), since Siza is a recognised master of threshold design. Lina Bo Bardi’s SESC Pompéia Leisure Centre in São Paulo (1977–1986) will be analysed showing that the Threshold approach sheds a new light on the quality of its spaces. Lastly, we will examine a less well-known example in Odile Decq’s Museo d’Arte Contemporanea di Roma (MACRO) (2001–2010). The social impact of SESC Pompéia’s vast threshold spaces Figure 4.1 shows Lina Bo Bardi’s project for the SESC Pompéia Recreational Centre, constructed in São Paulo in 1977–1986 as a centre for culture, sports, and recreation. Between 1977 and 1982, the nineteenth-century former DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-4

48 Buildings of different functions

Figure 4.1 Lina Bo Bardi, with André Vaimer and Marcelo C. Ferraz, SESC Pompéia Recreational Centre, São Paulo, 1977–1986. Photograph © Iñigo Bujedo Aguirre.

Mauser Brothers steel drum factory was renovated and transformed into a leisure centre. Bo Bardi, together with collaborators André Vaimer and Marcelo C. Ferraz, retained the rough aspect of the original construction and some of the existing structures of the factory. The project “was informed by an architettura povera—a poor architecture, not in the sense of impoverished but in the artisanal sense of achieving maximum communication and dignity with minimal, humble means” (Bo Bardi 2013, 98). Bo Bardi wanted the project to escape the serialisation entailed in the capitalist chain of production. She wanted to create an architectural language that was rooted in popular culture, that of the workers, of the artisans, and of everyday life.

Thresholds in cultural architecture 49 The collective endeavour of building the whole complex, including the theatre itself, was a durational collaborative performance that reveals her Gramscian political commitment [after Antonio Gramsci] that the focus should be on providing for the elementary needs of people first, only after which quality art could emerge. Bo Bardi’s decision to carry out her work on the construction site itself, sharing decisions instead of sending drawings from a remote office, transformed the construc­ tion into a collective act in which each actor/worker played his or her part. (Lima 2018, 38) The Centre hosts a theatre, a library, multi-purpose areas with water fea­ tures, a restaurant, and artists’ studios. These spaces, situated on the ground floor, are directly connected to the main exterior walkway. As such, they are more public than most libraries and theatre foyers. The main central walkway, the spaces in and around the library, the foyer of the restaurant, sports venues, and theatres, are threshold spaces. They are spaces of social interaction situated between the public space adjacent to the SESC Pompéia and the semi-private spaces of the restaurant, sports venues, and theatre. In addition, covered multi-purpose areas housing shallow pools and connecting channels are interior public spaces and, as such, are considered thresholds. All of these thresholds prompt crowds gathering, dancing, and music making. The Centre is remarkable in its architectural and urban quality and its effectiveness as a public building. The SESC Pompéia has proved to be socially appropriate for the needs of the neighbourhood and the city for the long-term. The semi-private spaces of the SESC Pompéia have a more public status than usual semi-private spaces. Bo Bardi aimed to undo hierarchies by transforming the spectator into a participant or co-author of the artwork (Veikos 2006). The wooden seating for the theatre is an example of this interactivity. The seating creates the effect of both distancing and involving the audience, rather than merely inviting them to sit down comfortably (Codebò 2017). “Bo Bardi’s theatre design embodies Gramscian ideas about the transforming and liberating power of cultural actions which an intellectual should undertake” (Lima 2018, 39). The semi-private sports facilities are also more public than usual. The sports facilities are housed in two towers that were added between 1983 and 1986. The sports facilities are accessed via elevated open pathways and the tower windows have no glass. The effect is a sense of exterior. Publicness seems to infuse every level of the towers. Grounded in principles of popular culture, the SESC Pompéia has a major social impact. According to Agnese Codebò, who also compares Bo Bardi’s philosophy with that of Antonio Gramsci, Bo Bardi’s architecture

50 Buildings of different functions enhances the publicness of these public interiors. “Is the modern architect not an active combatant in the field of social justice?” (Bo Bardi 2013, 58). The spatial strategy is central to the popular success of the Centre. “By building a Recreational centre that is deeply embedded in the values of the people, Bo Bardi aided in spreading the workers’ culture and architecture into society at large” (Codebò 2017). The large amount of academic lit­ erature regarding Bo Bardi’s architecture and the SESC Pompéia signals the intensity of dialectics of public space that are at stake in this project. As a result, we can see that the SESC Pompéia is a metaphor for the changes of its social context.

Design of exterior and interior museum thresholds There are many examples of iconic museums with foyers that are threshold spaces. The Centre Pompidou, inaugurated in 1977 in Paris, is a classical reference for architects and academics and has been extensively studied in the academic literature. The iconic “piazza” in front of the Centre Pompidou, designed by Renzo Piano, Richard Rogers, and Gianfranco Franchini, and the large foyer space on the ground floor of the building, are popular public spaces (Figure 4.2). People can sit on the sloped piazza and see the facade of the museum. When the weather allows, the facade serves as a background to street artists. The combination of the exterior and in­ terior public spaces of the Centre Pompidou provides an iconic example of a public space as threshold, which enhances the publicness of the piazza, the ground floor space, and other spaces on upper levels. The presence of the building is important, thus indicating that threshold space can be more public than usual public space. Siza’s sculptural museum architecture Portuguese architect Álvaro Siza (1933) created several museums that intertwine the interior and the exterior (Machabert and Beaudouin 2008; Machabert 2007). Siza’s motivation for creating open buildings that connect with public space is based on pro-democratic political views, which I analysed in the book Architecture as Landscape—Álvaro Siza Vieira (Kimmel 2010). There is an artistic background to Siza’s inter­ twining of interior and exterior, inspired by poetry, literature, music, and the arts in general. According to Laurent Beaudouin, Siza “creates spaces that seem to hold visitors without enclosing them” (Beaudouin and Siza 2008, 72).1 Architectural planes orchestrate the experience of passages between public space and semi-private spaces. Architecture is experienced as a succession of threshold spaces with subtle differences in status. This intertwining of interior and exterior creates sequences in the visitors’

Thresholds in cultural architecture 51

Figure 4.2 Renzo Piano, Richard Rogers, and Gianfranco Franchini, Centre Pompidou, Paris, 1977. Photograph © Guilhem Vellut. Creative Commons. https:// www.flickr.com/photos/o_0/15448647255

journey through each of the museums’ entrances, as they gradually move from exterior to interior. Siza’s architectures are contextualist in the sense that they mediate the perception of surrounding spaces and the landscape, and they extend and reveal characteristics of the site sometimes in an ironic way (Kimmel 2010). The Fundação Serralves, inaugurated in 1999, is a contemporary art museum built by Siza in Oporto. Different sequences are created by the pathway from the open-air public space of a busy Oporto avenue, through the quieter roads of a residential district, to the semi-public foyer and semi-private galleries. An array of vertical and horizontal concrete planes defines spaces that have an ambiguous interior/exterior status. A visitor’s experience is not perceived to be linear and continuous, even though the pathways towards the exhibition spaces are linear. Siza’s design affects the visitor’s body, orienting it in space relative to the architecture, while maintaining an openness towards the landscape. The visitor does not need signage for orientation (Siza 2009). Seen from the site entrance, the visitor perceives two vertical planes, one a high wall facing the visitor and the

52 Buildings of different functions other, to the right, leading the visitor towards the museum (as shown in Figure 4.3). A canopy links both planes, creating a continuous pathway of variations, drawing the visitor’s gaze in different directions. The view of the garden to the right and to the left is alternately open and obstructed. The visitor’s movement alternates between strolling along the pathway and taking short pauses, guided by perspective lines defined by the edges of the long horizontal wall. Situated in the garden is the sculpture Walking is Measuring (2000) by Richard Serra, an artist that will be discussed in Chapter 13. The sculpture reveals an affinity between the experience of planes in space in both Siza’s and Serra’s work. The first pathway sequence of the entrance area can be modelled using envelopes. For example, the high wall and the canopy of the entrance en­ velop the visitor from the left, while perspective lines simultaneously lead the visitor towards the museum. The long horizontal wall and the canopy of the second pathway sequence envelop the visitor from the right, and the perspective lines guide the visitor towards the museum door. This technique of modelling through envelopes and perspectives can be generalised across the entire museum site. Changes in the pathway’s direction change the direction of the visitor’s gaze towards adjacent spaces, prompting thoughts about the space in re­ lation to the broader context of the site. Siza’s architecture exemplifies thresholds that function at a meta-level, prompting thought coupled with a direct sensation of the architecture. The architecture of the Fundação Serralves, especially that of its entrance, is a meta-architecture, in the same way that a meta-text describes or discusses a text. It is a “dispositive,” as defined later in Chapter 13. Artistic skills and underlying political and so­ cial motivations enable Siza to develop an architecture as dispositive, and potentially as metaphor for the social context. Siza’s Fundação Iberê Camargo project, a museum of artworks by the painter Iberê Camargo in Porto Alegre, Brazil, at first appears very enclosed.

Figure 4.3 Álvaro Siza Vieira, Fundação Serralves, Oporto, Portugal, 1999. Photographs by the author.

Thresholds in cultural architecture 53 It is situated on a motorway, between the river mouth and a cliff, and is not directly adjacent to public space. Despite not being adjacent to public space, I include this example due to its exceptional architectural shapes. The main pathway inside the building is a spiral which reminds us of Le Corbusier’s architectural promenade. Compared to Le Corbusier’s, the discontinuities or ruptures between sequences in Siza’s building are more radical. Viewed from within the three ramps that are visible in Figure 4.4, the visitor feels totally enclosed, since there are few windows; however, they might “remember” that they are “suspended” in space in front of the facade. The windows are horizontal and, at broad intervals, offer the visitor a panoramic vision from within the enclosed space that establishes a direct link with the landscape outside. Despite the enclosure of the building, the pathway through the Fundação Iberê Camargo is defined by sequences during which the visitor feels either distinctly inside or dis­ tinctly outside. As seen from outside, these three geometric-shaped ramps or “arms” create a second “open facade” in front of the actual facade. On the ground floor, the space between the two “facades” defines an exterior threshold. Under these arms, the visitor feels simultaneously inside and outside. The large size and inflection of the glazed entrance door form part of the con­ tinuity between interior and exterior. The interior foyer feels more public than foyers usually do. When ac­ cessed from the enclosed ramps, the foyer is experienced as an opening to access the exterior. The zenithal natural light enhances this sense of an exterior. These shapes would have a different effect on the collective if the building was situated in a more central location of the city. The foyer would be experienced as even more public. The design strategies used in the Fundação Iberê Camargo show that threshold spaces can be created in a very compact way. Despite its location between the river mouth and a cliff, Siza manages to create an architecture as a type of dispositive of vision of the landscape and its context.

Odile Decq’s design of thresholds for the MACRO in Rome The study of Siza’s design above focused mainly on the entrance space. In this section, I offer an analysis of usage relating to the architectural spaces of a building designed by French architect Odile Decq. We will examine the political significance of Decq’s public interiors as places for community through the spatial setting of the building’s thresholds. Decq’s interiors as public space The Museo d’Arte Contemporanea di Roma (MACRO), designed by Decq, is a conversion of part of a nineteenth-century Peroni brewery situated in a

54 Buildings of different functions

Figure 4.4 Álvaro Siza Vieira, Fundação Iberê Camargo, Porto Alegre, Brazil, 2007. Bottom photograph © Nelson Kon. Other photographs by the author.

former industrial district of Rome on the Via Nomentana. Surveying all of Decq’s designs, the MACRO is her most public, as most of the floors, in­ cluding the roof, are freely accessible. Removing parts of the existing

Thresholds in cultural architecture 55 brewery building was necessary to make the building “porous” to public space. According to Claude Parent, Decq’s design for the MACRO is a “little masterpiece,” a “jewel set in the site” (bijou d’insertion) that, “without ever falling into mannerism or sacrificing its own constructive logic, integrates itself perfectly into its environment“ (Parent and Ayers 2014, 128). This judgement alludes to architectural qualities rarely evidenced by photogenic images of the building’s interior. Decq removed the corner of the pre-existing facade to create the entrance, allowing the open-air public space of the exterior threshold to penetrate the building. The cut through the pre-existing facade creates not only a small garden on the ground floor at the entrance but also a direct view between the entrance and the first-floor café. After the entrance, visitors arrive at a grand, glass-covered black atrium. The atrium feels like an exterior im­ mersed in natural light coming from the glass roof above. In the middle of the atrium, the visitor encounters the red “bubble” of the auditorium, as shown in Figure 4.5. According to Paul Bennett, “with its lacquered-wood envelope cut into large facets and a red entry ramp extended like a tongue, this structure within a structure has a kinetic quality that animates the entire project” (Bennett 2011). The atrium is circled by an elevated walkway that zigzags through the building to the roof. A visitor can choose

Figure 4.5 Odile Decq, Museo d’Arte Contemporanea di Roma (MACRO), Rome, 2001–2010. Photographs ® Roland Halbe.

56 Buildings of different functions different pathways through the museum, ascending one of two stairways or using a transparent elevator that keeps the visitor connected to the atrium space. Visitors are invited to enter peripheral rooms at either level 0 or 1. According to Bennett, visitors zigzag through the foyer, catching views of artwork and the red auditorium from different perspectives. In fact, a proletarian element runs through the project and grounds it. Nearly half of the new structure is open space that, although architecturally part of the museum, is accessible to the public and belongs to the city. (Bennett 2011) The social and political significance of the building manifests in this pri­ macy afforded to public space. The exhibition spaces that wrap around the atrium are semi-private enclosed interiors. Heavy doors open onto these interiors creating an intimate feeling that contrasts with the public atrium. Moving back and forth between centre and periphery, the visitor arrives at the roof level, the building’s most public space. Intent on creating a typical Italian piazza centred on a fountain, Decq used stonework of typical Roman public spaces. The roof symbolically and visually connects the visitor’s experience of the building with the wider city. According to G. Pino Scaglione, the roof, where the pathway ends, again offers the public dimension of the urban environment in a square that is in strict physical and visual continuity with the interior space. The roof appears as a set of landscapes, characterised by variations in the ground section, which gather around the artificial basin designed to moderate the climate on hot days. (Scaglione 2018, 24) In Decq’s own view, the MACRO Museum in Rome is an interpretation of the continuity of the city, but in a contemporary way. The city enters the interior of the building, it sprawls in the foyer and over the terrace. The structure of the building’s volume admits continuity, but the way space is organised is different and contemporary … Continuity, in my opinion, also has a relation to the human body and to its movements. Therefore, it is not a category of formal architectural language, but rather refers to the organisation of spaces and volumes. (Decq 2011) In a 2019 conversation, Decq said that one of her primary aims in archi­ tecture is to provide visitors ease and freedom to walk through the spaces of

Thresholds in cultural architecture 57 her public buildings in an uninterrupted manner. Scaglione describes Decq’s architecture as “unsettled,” “dynamic,” “fluid” (Scaglione 2018, 15). Akin to the way Constructivism-inspired shapes seem to move in space, Decq’s public interiors prompt movement of the visitor and the collective body within and through space, and the feel of the exterior creates relationships between actions inside the building and the social life of the city in which the building stands. Passages between and through envelopes Decq’s rejection of Classical architecture and the mainstream translate into a strong resistance to notions of homogeneous space. Her buildings display radical shifts from one interior to another, “cuts,” that create sudden shifts in the visitor experience. Reinforcing robust emotional re­ sponses via her strong aesthetic choices, these cuts between interior spaces magnify the visitor’s corporeal perception of space. Several com­ mentators describe these effects as “tensions.” For example, Scaglione identifies a “constant attempt to experiment with a propulsive space under tension” (Scaglione 2018, 23). Decq’s interest in the corporeal perception of architecture based on strong aesthetic tensions commenced at the beginning of her career while associated with Benoît Cornette, her late partner and collaborator. The two architects designed buildings that employed shapes and spatial layout as tools to play on the visitors’ cor­ poreal perception. Andreas Ruby suggested that Cornette, who studied medicine, viewed layers in a building in a similar way to layers in the body. The word “layer” here signifies “membrane,” and its definition is like our earlier definition of “envelopes”: “Just as the surgeon unveils a body layer after layer, the user of Decq & Cornette’s architecture also peels away the walls to discover the successive spaces of the building” (Ruby 1996, 10). According to Yael Reisner, the couple’s preoccupation with corporeal per­ ception challenged France’s architectural culture of Functionalism, a pre­ occupation of modernist architecture that Decq and Cornette rejected. “Instead, they introduced the concept of ‘functional performance,’ creating spatial tensions and introducing new ways of moving through their buildings, while creating ambiguous boundaries between exterior and interior” (Reisner 2009, 198). This aspect of provocative architecture can be counterproductive for generating political effects on people, as the creation of strong emotions can reduce visitor perception to an interiorised experience of architecture-assculpture (a quasi-heir to Romanticism). We will see that it is not un­ productive in this example. Focusing on the impact of tensions and envelopes and the effect on public space, a recurrent characteristic of the design of many of Decq’s public buildings is the use of spatial dissonance. For example, ground-

58 Buildings of different functions level layouts often display a strong contrast between a central enclosed semi-private interior and the surrounding public interiors. This emble­ matic interior spatial tension is commonly interpreted as Decq’s signature element and always has implications for the visitor experience. Exemplifying her resistance to the homogeneous, Decq’s enclosed interior, or “bubble,” is typically set in clear contrast in terms of height, colour, material, and function, with other adjacent public spaces within the same building. Characteristically red, they generally house a meeting room or conference room. In the design for the unbuilt public building CNASEA in Limoges (1994), the bubble is a boardroom that differs markedly from other designed public interior spaces that are intended for communal living – that is, places of exchange such as the foyer, meeting rooms, circulation spaces, the cafeteria, and places for relaxation (Ruby 1996, 40–49). MACRO Museum’s bubble is an auditorium that is a place of immobile activities such as listening or conversing with a lecturer, or watching a film. The MACRO auditorium accommodates social events that do not involve spatial negotiation. Coming from the auditorium, the visitor walking through the other interior spaces feels an enhanced sense of the “exterior” because of the contrast perceived relative to the enclosed au­ ditorium interior. These other public interiors are experienced like ex­ teriors even when they are covered. They maintain a constant physical and symbolic link with open-air public space in which informal social interactions are enhanced. It is this key tension created by the enclosed interior that emphasises the “openness” of the majority of Decq’s interior spaces and that renders her buildings typically more “public” than other architects’ public buildings. Typical critics of Decq’s architecture (who also criticise other instances of so-called “star-chitecture”) focus on the appearance of her buildings, in much the same way that they focus on Decq’s punk look. Unlike typical commentary, Scaglione, Ruby, Reisner, and I identify architectural qualities of Decq’s designs beyond outward appearances in their spatial tensions created by Decq’s architectural envelopes. As such, the MACRO is a singular building with vast interior semi-public spaces. Decq’s architecture of freedom, constraint, and negotiation As a singular building, MACRO impacts visitor’s behaviours. Decq’s architecture creates a visitor experience that oscillates between extremes of freedom and constraint. Several commentators have suggested that access and circulation in Decq’s public interiors are features inherited from the experience of Le Corbusier’s promenade architecturale. Andrew Ayers states that “she believes in the promenade architecturale”

Thresholds in cultural architecture 59 (Ayers 2014, 128). Although Decq herself refutes any analogy to Le Corbusier (Decq 2019a), a similarity exists in the experience of freedom and constraint of passages created through architectural shapes. Decq’s main architectural intention is to afford visitors freedom to choose a path. Museums are Decq’s preferred architectural projects as their character allow her the creative freedom to incorporate a choice of paths for the visitor (Decq 2019b, 5–11). Visitors are free to move in space or to stop, engage in a conversation, regard an artwork, or read in a corner. Decq generalises this approach to all her public interiors. This emphasis on freedom is rooted in her optimistic vision of architecture as a means of emancipation. Once a path is chosen by the visitor, the architectural experience is de­ termined by Decq through movement constraints on the chosen path. Shapes frame this circulation. Like a scriptwriter, she plans the precise choreography of a visitor in the building. In public lectures, Decq has presented her projects as a succession of shifts and variations experienced by the visitor during their walk through the building (Decq 2019c). In the MACRO example, the pathways of elevated walkways at level 1, linking the roof of the red bubble to exhibition spaces and to the café, are con­ strained by how narrow they are. Because of this, they determine the visi­ tor’s viewpoint. A further constraint is created by the crowd in the narrow space, making it challenging for individuals to pass each other. This nar­ rowness is a key aspect of the spatial tensions of the building that act as a constraint on the movement of the collective body. Spaces that combine freedom and constraint can be described as “thresholds,” or “transition spaces,” “layers,” and “passages.” Scaglione, for example, sees Decq as “forming a shell-threshold between the interior and exterior” (Scaglione 2018, 22). According to Ruby, in Decq and Cornette’s projects, “the space is not only surrounded by an envelope; it consists itself of multiple envelopes producing new subspaces” (Ruby 1996, 10). Frédéric Migayrou noted that the couple’s first projects gave them the chance to explore the concept of the entrance into a building—the only point of connection between the external and internal worlds—as an experience of passage between the two via a series of spatial events, rather than a simple step through a building envelope. (Migayrou 1996, 4, 10, 14) Overlapping layers, like those described above, can also be seen in the section. As a result, these layers can be defined in three dimensions over the whole building space. As Decq’s building is conceived as a succession of layers or envelopes, the whole building can be considered as a succession of thresholds. The thresholds are all the spaces situated between the open-air public space and the enclosed exhibition spaces (and other interior rooms).

60 Buildings of different functions They result from a complex topology, as if the exterior had been turned inwards, similar to the Benjaminian “inside-out sock.” People are directed into the thresholds, which constitutes a constraint, but with more freedom of action than they would have in a function-determined space in which negotiation is virtually impossible. Decq simultaneously overcomes the constraints of function-determined “boxes” (Decq 1990) while imposing her own constraints via an orchestrated choreography of movement. Spatial organisation through thresholds challenges dominant classical modes, as well as the function-determined rationalist partitioning of boxes that dominated the nineteenth century in occidental culture and the mod­ ernist Plan libre. Negotiation of space is more intense in the MACRO than in rationalist segregated rooms or boxes where people cannot meet un­ expectedly. These rooms as boxes are too disconnected from the exterior public space to encourage free access and interaction. Negotiation of space is more intense than in “Plan libre architecture,” where negotiation rarely arises, because visitors, having too much freedom, are constantly at a dis­ tance. In addition, when the Plan libre is delimited by a transparent glass facade, visitors are constantly in sight of each other from any standpoint, encouraging a behaviour of ceaseless circulation in space. A comparison of Decq’s architecture with rationalist partitioned rooms and Plan libre may seem simple; however, it illustrates that Decq’s interiors fall between the two in that they are simultaneously not too constrained and not too free. The MACRO Museum exemplifies Decq’s mediation between freedom and constraint via spatial overlapping and as such enhances negotiation. Negotiations creating political architecture, and the limits of the political meaning Negotiation is not a fluid process. According to Jacques Rancière’s philo­ sophy of negotiation as “dissensus,” a public space that prompts dissensus is more akin to the tensions and overlapping layers of Decq’s MACRO design. Overlapping layers prompt negotiation of the presence of the visitor, of the individual and collective use, and of public and private use. Rancière agrees that this type of negotiation is political. Decq’s architecture emphasises the negotiation of the visitor’s movements, activity, and emo­ tional involvement in the building. Her architecture is a matrix that enables this negotiation in/of space. The MACRO Museum is Decq’s most political architecture since, unlike any of her other designs, the overlapping layers are apparent on all floors of the building from the ground floor to the roof terrace. That is, negotiation of space unfolds from the entrance to the roofscape. The MACRO is remarkable since negotiation of space happens on all levels, something that is observable in very few contemporary public

Thresholds in cultural architecture 61 buildings. Decq’s work in three dimensions appears as a “total work of art,” using sculptural characteristics of architecture for social means. More than merely public space, Decq’s MACRO Museum is political as it engages the collective body. Decq encourages neither consensus in visitor responses nor the expecta­ tion that visitors follow directions regarding how to act in her public in­ teriors. Rather, she intends to offer the potential for unexpected experiential “events” to happen, both individually and collectively. Decq’s punk aesthetic and her disruption of rationalist organisation of space har­ bours the potential for a degree of anarchy in her buildings that facilitates these events. In its normal operation, the MACRO Museum hosts different forms of public activity, including debate, viewing of exhibitions, reading and reflection, and café discussion. The intertwining of spaces prompts visitor creativity and the potential for encounters and events. This is par­ ticularly so in collective gatherings that happen in the atrium and the ex­ hibition space when there is a crowd. The building’s strong aesthetic contrasts of shape, material, and colour enhance the energy of any un­ expected event that occurs.2 MACRO has the potential to be a metaphor for the changes of society. Decq’s architecture becomes a mediator of social interactions. Her civic ar­ chitecture reflects the way community functions and reveals social life and, as such, is an architecture as metonymy of the social context. The way the public interacts and negotiates their presence and movement in Decq’s buildings provides insight into the society in which they are situated. Scaglione reports how Decq “conceives her way of working as a ‘civic duty’” (Scaglione 2018, 14). As noted by Scaglione, “space is, therefore, a human construction and the spatial perception obtained through bodily interaction with the physical and social environment becomes a lens through which we can observe the world” (Scaglione 2018, 21). Museums are Decq’s favourite architectures, where she can experiment in mediating freedom and con­ straints to activate social interactions. Scaglione points out that museums are somewhat of an ‘obsession’ to Odile … To the architect, the museum is an anti-rhetoric machine that is open to influences, modification, play, and to the astonishment of the visitor. Yet, at the same time, it is a magnificent spatial machine that can and must go beyond fashions and trends, accommodating and becoming an inter­ preter of the transformation of urban places, reassessing the context in which it appears. (Scaglione 2018, 13) For a building to have a political impact it must affect the crowd. This requirement challenges MACRO’s status as a political place. The first

62 Buildings of different functions challenge is related to its moderate importance in the wider context of Rome’s significant cultural offerings and a lack of institutional support. The second challenge is the museum’s decentralised location. Both these com­ bine to lessen the effect on the crowd. While manifesting sufficient char­ acteristics to be considered a singular building, Decq’s MACRO falls short on the political impact expected of iconic metaphors.

Thresholds in SANAA’s Museum of Contemporary Art in Kanazawa Kazuyo Sejima + Ryue Nishizawa and Associates/SANAA are developing architecture with singular links between spaces: interior and exterior, public and semi-private, service and served. SANAA’s 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA), from 2004, stands in the centre of Kanazawa. It incorporates community gathering spaces, such as a library, lecture hall, and children’s workshop, as well as museum spaces (Figure 4.6). Threshold space infuses the museum Circular in form, the labyrinth-like building has no front or back, leaving the visitor free to explore from different directions. Enhancing visitors’ freedom is one of the main aims of SANAA’s practice. The museum dis­ plays large interior circulation as “in between” spaces that enable the visitor sufficient freedom to choose their own pathway through the building. Sejima explains that, while already working on a private house in the late 1980s, I was interested in the way architecture could be both programmati­ cally neutral and open to the environment: I wanted to create softly defined spaces that suggested but did not dictate human activity. This led to an interest in a kind of abstraction, something I have been exploring ever since. (Reisner and Sejima 2019, 32) The array of interior exhibition rooms of the 21st Century MCA enhances negotiation of presence and movement in the “in between” spaces. Together, these enhance the publicness of the building. The circular facade is a continuous glass wall, creating a direct visual connection with the open-air public space. I see the array of wider tri­ angular spaces situated at the interior periphery of the building, in direct visual connection with the exterior public space, as thresholds. Because of this direct visual connection, the circulation spaces are experienced as

Thresholds in cultural architecture 63

Figure 4.6 SANAA, Plan and view of the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa, Japan, 2004. Image © SANAA.

64 Buildings of different functions exteriors. The architecture intertwines interior and exterior spaces, and disrupts classical gradients of status of space, between public space and semi-private space. Commentators describe the museum as a series of “environments” or “atmospheres,” because of the exterior feel and visi­ tors’ ability to look into the distance. The exterior feel is created via transparent or translucent porous par­ titions. Because of the transparency of interior partitions, the threshold spaces “infuse” the whole museum. “Four fully glazed internal court­ yards, each unique in character, provide ample daylight to the centre and a fluent border between public zone and museum zone” (El Croquis 2005, 75). The peripheral array of thresholds of the 21st Century MCA continue throughout the interior of the building, except for the modular ticketed exhibition areas that are not freely accessible. According to Kengo Kuma, Sou Fujimoto, and Junya Ishigami, the ability to “infuse” the feel of the exterior into interiors is common to many Japanese ar­ chitects and is part of Kyokai, a Japanese technique for articulating space (Kuma et al. 2010). The museum displays singular threshold spaces Structured geometrically, the spaces can be modelled through a topology of translucent envelopes. Commentators describe the museum from either of two extreme theoretical viewpoints, as a geometric system in plan or an architecture of environments. The porous translucent partitions allow these two theoretical viewpoints to coexist. Interestingly, the spatial informality of environments is achieved through novel abstract geometries. “This variation creates a nonhierarchical environment, one that does indeed echo the painting by Mondrian” (Reisner and Sejima 2019, 33). Sejima’s interest in the abstraction of Piet Mondrian, its delineations (instead of an abstract painting without boundaries), combined with a sense of fluid and infinite space, explains how the 21st Century MCA can be spatially structured while open. The writers from El Croquis summarised the “specificities” of the architecture: The scattered bulk of the galleries provide transparency, with views from the periphery into the centre and vistas through the entire depth of the building … The exhibition area is fragmented into numerous galleries that are all embedded in circulation space. This approach offers specificity to the gallery spaces yet flexibility for the museum routing with multiple options for division into smaller exhibitions, expansion, or concentration of the ticketed area. (El Croquis 2005, 60, 75) For the 21st Century MCA, SANAA’s design process for the abstract system consisted of turning organisational diagrams into a composition of

Thresholds in cultural architecture 65 lines, which became the plan and in turn led to a series of interior galleries and courtyards. The outcome of the design process is an array of “layered interiors” (Reisner and Sejima 2019, 32, 34). Collaborator Florian Idenburg explains that the project for the museum in Kanazawa had taught them that a museum does not have to be a big, black box with enormous flexibility and no specificity, but that it’s better to create a number of well-considered, well-proportioned spaces, with daylight, each of which differs somewhat from the others. (De Jong 2006, 135–137) The architecture of threshold spaces impacts visitors’ behaviours. The entrance space and the triangular threshold spaces situated at the interior periphery of the building display the negotiation of presence and move­ ment, the simplest negotiation being to rest and talk before and after visiting exhibitions. In the words of the architects: “The public and mu­ seum zones are organised to provoke interrelations with the public spaces encircling the museum” (El Croquis 2005, 60). “The intertwined public and museum zones are designed to provoke interaction between potential user groups, with the public spaces encircling the museum” (Sejima and Nishizawa 2011). According to Hans Ulrich Obrist, “Similar to Cedric Price’s vision of ‘Magnets,’ these corridors of in-between-ness seem to have the function of ‘triggers,’ that is, they are designed to stimulate new patterns of movement and flow in the museum rather than occupy space” (Obrist and Sejima 2002, 34). The most favourable areas for fostering public interactions are the entrance foyers. The structure of spaces of the 21st Century MCA has an impact on people and is thus political. Despite the potential for social interaction, from a European perspective, one can doubt that extreme minimal, abstract, and “sanitised” aesthetics enhance the spontaneous events required for us to conclude that the archi­ tecture fits the definition of public space. In such a sanitised space, any chaotic event or slack behaviour is noticed, and thus appears as inappropriate and potentially immoral. This model and nature of public space are different from slightly anarchic collective event space. This is a more restrained model for public space that works in a Japanese context. Translucent partitions tend to erase the structure of spaces In the 21st Century MCA, a range of spaces of different statuses are organised through subtle variations of materials. SANAA uses multiple gradients of transparencies, local opacities, and reflective qualities of partition materials (colour, texture, finish) to define the visual connections between spaces. Some

66 Buildings of different functions of the exhibition rooms are connected visually to the exterior, albeit through a double layer of the facade (the partitions of the room and the circular glass facade). In the fully glazed lecture hall and in the underground theatre with upper windows, the visual link to the exterior is maintained. The fluidity of space enabled by the vast threshold spaces and the translucent partitions results in an architecture that tends towards homo­ geneity. The environments with translucent partitions are perceived as dream-like spaces that foster mental escape. Worldwide admirers of SANAA’s architecture refer to this dream-like aspect of the visual qualities of their architecture in general. Sejima explains: “We are trying to inject a different sense of space, and also a different sense of time, into the ex­ perience of walking through the passages” (Obrist and Sejima 2002, 35). The visitors’ dream-like state prompted by SANAA’s architecture has si­ milarities with the dream-like state created in Benjaminian Arcades. Technical details play a major role in the perception of space. SANAA’s subtle aesthetics are embedded in large-scale partitions and in “microsingularities” of the details’ resolutions. Their innovative use of glass and other aesthetic resolutions of technical details are shown in numerous technical drawings (El Croquis 2005). In SANAA’s architecture, micro-singularities distinguish their architecture from other architectures influenced by the widespread contemporary appeal for dreamlike atmospheric landscapes. The amount and content of commentary that SANAA’s aesthetics generate reveal complex dialectics in their architecture. The logic of Benjamin’s Shock theory enables us to identify the paradoxical aspects of SANAA’s archi­ tecture. SANAA’s architecture develops a very subtle new experience of boundaries without totally erasing them. Usually, erased boundaries make architectural space homogeneous, with the negative consequences described in the Preamble; that is, the disappearance of the different statuses of spaces, resulting in the disappearance of real public space. In SANAA’s architecture, subtle new experience of boundaries “generate new aesthetics” that redefine contemporary limits between interior/exterior and public/private space (Reisner and Sejima 2019). Through the perception of very fine, subtle, almost disappearing boundaries, visitors become conscious of the funda­ mental necessity for these boundaries for their orientation and for the usages of architecture. SANAA’s architecture embeds contradictory aspects, and their innovation comes from the way they overcome the risk of excessive homogeneity of space. SANAA’s subtle architectural dialectics have inspired several con­ temporary architectural practices. Upcoming architectural practice SO-IL (Jing Liu, Florian Idenburg and Associates) has been influenced by both SANAA and more expressionist architecture in their design of the Jan Shrem and Maria Manetti Shrem Museum of Art in Davis, California (2016). Idenburg is a former Associate of SANAA. The key difference

Thresholds in cultural architecture 67

Figure 4.7 SO-IL, Ground floor plan of the Jan Shrem and Maria Manetti Shrem Museum of Art, Davis, USA, 2016. Plan © SO‐IL.

between the Shrem Museum and SANAA’s 21st Century MCA is that, in the Shrem Museum, the architecture defines exterior and interior threshold spaces. For example, the awning is a delimited space, and at the same time easily traversed to access the interior. This type of threshold design through a topological approach is visible in the plan shown in Figure 4.7 and the pictures in Figure 4.8. Conclusion The topological approach of using intertwining of envelopes to locate threshold spaces has enabled us to analyse the spatial aesthetics of projects by Lina Bo Bardi, Álvaro Siza Vieira, Odile Decq, SANAA, and SO-IL. The variety of the architects’ aesthetic research and mode of structuring threshold space shows an array of architectural strategies to enhance public life. Within this group, the threshold spaces in Bo Bardi’s SESC Pompéia Leisure Centre in São Paulo most intensely enhance public life. Conscious or unconscious collective dreams are expressed through art and can be expressed as performative spaces in cultural architectures. In contemporary museums, manufactured consumerist dreams have an evergrowing presence, and their presence affects the meaning of museums

68 Buildings of different functions

Figure 4.8 SO-IL, Jan Shrem and Maria Manetti Shrem Museum of Art, Davis, USA, 2016. Photographs © SO-IL.

and cultural architectures as metaphors for changes in our societies. This analysis confirmed that numerous museums, and other cultural ar­ chitectures, present rich aesthetic resources for the study of the spatial characteristics of thresholds. The relative importance of consumerist lo­ gics in these types of programmes should focus our attention in the future.

Notes 1 Original sentence: “Cela vous permet-il de constituer des espaces qui semblent être tenus sans donner l’impression d’être fermés?” 2 According to philosopher Ludwig Schwarte, an event is characterised by its “immateriality charged with energy” (Schwarte 2019, 425). This philosophical definition of “energy” is linked to the energy one feels in a crowd room, when an event links people as a collective body.

Thresholds in cultural architecture 69

References Ayers, Andrew. “Black Is a Hard Drug.” In October 21 (2014), 126–133. Beaudouin, Laurent, and Siza, Álvaro. “Habiter Intensément (1991).” In Machabert, Dominique, and Beaudouin, Laurent. Álvaro Siza—une question de mesure. Paris: Moniteur, 2008. 65–84. Bennett, Paul. “Museum of Contemporary Art of Rome (MACRO).” In Architectural Record 199:7 (2011), 54–63. Bo Bardi, Lina. “The Architectural Project (1986).” In Stones Against Diamonds. London: Architectural Association, 2013. 97–102. Codebò, Agnese. “The architect weaving the city: Lina Bo Bardi’s praxis in the SESC Pompeia.” In V!RUS 14. 2017. 14 April 2021 www.nomads.usp.br/virus/_ virus14/?sec=4&item=5&lang=en. De Jong, Afaina. “Inside SANAA.” In Mark 4 (Oct. 2006), 130–139. Decq, Odile. “Interview with Thierry Ardisson.” In Lunettes Noires Pour Nuits Blanches. 1990. 14 April 2021 https://www.ina.fr/video/I08141820/artvideo.html. Decq, Odile. Conversation with the author, 13 October 2019, Sydney. 2019a. Decq, Odile. “Fangshan Tangshan National Geopark.” In Pidgeon Digital. September 2019. 2019b. 14 April www.pidgeondigital.com/talks/fangshantangshan-national-geopark/. Decq, Odile. SCCI Architecture Hub keynote lecture, 10 October 2019, Sydney, 2019c. Decq, Odile. Zumtobel Press release. 2011. 14 April 2021 www.zumtobel.com/ media/downloads/PR_ZT_Odile_Decq_EN.pdf. El Croquis. SANAA (Sejima + Nishizawa) 1998–2004, El croquis 121–122. Madrid: El Croquis Editorial (2005). Kimmel, Laurence. L’architecture comme paysage—Álvaro Siza Vieira. Paris: Petra, 2010. Kuma, Kengo, Fujimoto, Su and Ishigami Junya. Kyokai: A Japanese Technique for Articulating Space. Tokyo: Tankōsha, 2010. Lima, Evelyn F. W. “Factory, Street and Theatre: Two theatres by Lina Bo Bardi.” In Performing Architectures. Projects, Practices, Pedagogies. York: Methuen Drama, 2018. 35–41. Machabert, Dominique, and Beaudouin, Laurent. Álvaro Siza—une question de mesure. Paris: Moniteur, 2008. Machabert, Dominique, ed. Siza au Thoronet—Le parcours et l’œuvre. Marseille : Parenthèses, 2007. Migayrou, Frédéric. “Preface.” In Melhuish, Clare. Odile Decq Benoît Cornette. New York: Phaidon, 1996. 4–14. Obrist, Hans Ulrich, and Sejima, Kazuyo. “Sanaa on Kanazawa: Roving Curator Hans Ulrich Obrist Catches up with Kazuyo Sejima of Sanaa Architects.” In Make 92 (January 2002), 34–35. Parent, Claude and Ayers, Andrew. “Interview with Claude Parent.” In Ayers, Andrew. “Black Is a Hard Drug.” October 21 (2014), 126–133. Reisner, Yael. “Black as Counterpoint.” In Architecture and Beauty. New York: Wiley, 2009. 198.

70 Buildings of different functions Reisner, Yael, and Sejima, Kazuyo. “Abstraction and Informality Generate a New Aesthetic—An Interview with Kazuyo Sejima.” In Architectural Design 89:5 (September 2019), 30–37. Ruby, Andreas. “Odile Decq & Benoît Cornette: Architecture in Motion.” In Odile Decq Benoît Cornette, Hyper-Tension. Berlin: Aedes, 1996. 10. Scaglione, G. Pino. “Editorial.” In Scaglione, G. Pino, and Fairerri, Massimo. Studio Odile Decq – Architecture as a Civil Passion and Creative Power. Trento: List Lab, 2018. 12–17. Schwarte, Ludger. Philosophie de l’architecture. Paris: La découverte, 2019. Sejima, Kazuyo, and Nishizawa, Ryue. “21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa, Ishikawa Prefecture, Japan.” In Architectural Design 81:1 (January 2011), 94–101. Siza, Álvaro. Conversation with the author, 27 March 2009. Veikos, C. “To Enter the Work: Ambient Art.” In Journal of Architectural Education 59:4 (2006), 71–80.

5

Thresholds of services areas and retail shops

Thresholds between public space and service areas What is the role of Threshold Architecture in the links between public space and service areas? This chapter explores service areas comprising storage rooms in museums and storage/service spaces in markets. The concept of Schaulager Museums are at the vanguard of architectural creativity with respect to the links between public space and service areas. Traditionally, exhibition spaces have been kept separate from storage spaces, making them invisible from the exhibition spaces. Recent contemporary projects have challenged this segregation. The initial designs for Herzog & de Meuron’s Schaulager in Basel were very experimental with regards to the links between public space and service areas. The word Schaulager (Schau meaning show and Lager meaning sto­ rage space in German) encompasses the idea that the project’s goal was to build a functional warehouse for artworks, which was intended to be visible to the public. Maja Oeri, Chair of the Emanuel Hoffman Foundation, who commissioned the original project, presented a proposal for the storage, re­ search, and display of contemporary art that was completely new and would have made the Schaulager a curatorial and architectural prototype. You would walk into the building and see a screen where you could select to see the work of your choice. As in an automated warehouse, a forklift with an electronic arm would transport the work to you. … It is like a study centre or a library of rare books. (Herzog and de Meuron 2011, 81) Ultimately, the concept proved not to be technically feasible. The realised project constructed in 2002, unfortunately, does not allow visitors to see the storage area. The only translation of the original concept to the rea­ lised project is that, from the bookshop the public can see artworks DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-5

72 Buildings of different functions through a large window being delivered to the museum and unloaded from delivery trucks. The concept of intertwining public space with service areas formulated by Herzog & de Meuron inspired the experimentations of other architectural practices. Ateliers Jean Nouvel created storage space for the artworks (musical instruments) at the Musée du Quai Branly in Paris (2006) that is visible despite remaining inaccessible. Wondoshi Architects Group (Heo Seogoo) and Gangsan Architects built on the idea of merging public interior and service areas for the design of the MMCA (National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art) in Cheongju, Seoul, in 2018. Their project was to create a new contemporary art museum inside a former tobacco processing plant. According to Heo Seogoo, “A storage facility that would be visible and accessible was planned, rather than an art storeroom within a sturdy fire barrier. Every era has its own way of construction. Often, something is new because it is unfamiliar” (Heo Seogoo 2018). Although on a smaller scale, a more radical intertwining of public space and storage space can be seen in the Aukio: Bryk & Wikkala Visible Storage, EMMA (Espoo Museum of Modern Art) (Figure 5.1). The visible storage for the EMMA, constructed in 2017 in Espoo, Finland, was designed by young architects Wanderlust (Johanna Brummer and Heini-Emilia Saari). Aukio is a Finnish word related to auki, meaning “open,” and describes the fact that the storage areas are openly visible to the public. The intertwining exhibition space and storage space function more in a Threshold logic than the merging of exhibition space and storage space in the example of the MMCA, as the distinct visible storage avoids homogeneous merging. The axonometric perspective in Figure 5.1 shows the spatial setting: a central exhibition space with publicly accessible

Figure 5.1 Wanderlust (Johanna Brummer and Heini-Emilia Saari), Aukio: Bryk & Wikkala Visible Storage, EMMA (Espoo Museum of Modern Art), 2017. Photograph © Ari Karttunen/EMMA. Diagram © Wanderlust.

Thresholds of services areas 73 storage display at the periphery, and a visible, inaccessible working area at one end of the central space. The public, while visiting the exhibition room, can see museum personnel at work. The architects incorporated an archi­ tectural feature for the publicly accessible storage display made from white perforated steel. The steel structure creates a partition that both separates and links the central exhibition space and the peripheral, publicly accessible storage display. The structure is multifunctional as it also integrates cable management and IT interfaces. The museum was seeking ways to allow the public to interact and engage with the collections in new ways. The idea of a visible archive confirms the new typology discussed in the Schaulager and MMCA examples. Wanderlust, describing the visible storage for EMMA, have stated that “The architecture transcends the dichotomy of interior and exterior, and involves visitors’ movements of lingering and inquiry as part of the spatial experience” (Brummer and Saari 2020). Accordingly, the visible storage has the status of a dispositive, as defined later in Chapter 13. The architecture seeks to represent the visible archive as a dynamic organism and an interactive platform for producing new knowledge. It creates a window into the creative activities of knowledge production; conservation, recombination and reframing undertaken by EMMA as an institution. (Brummer and Saari 2020) Although there is no direct social interaction between the public and the personnel of the museum, there is the social impact of making work visible, which in turn, makes the project political. By making work visible to the public, threshold spaces operate in the opposite way to phantasmagoria. Nevertheless, when, in a museum, the threshold space is retrieved from everyday experience, one can wonder if these projects are not a return to a new type of phantasmagoria. In the case of Schaulagers, the phantasmagoria is the image society has of itself when it refuses to accept the reality of the social work that produces artworks, and that today artworks are commodities with a merchandise value. Thresholds between service space and served space in markets Public markets are often among the most socially diverse of public places, bringing together people of different ages, genders, races, ethnicities, and socioeconomic status for food, shopping, and conversation (Knapp 2018). A similar finding was reported by the Project for Public Space in Public Markets as a Vehicle for Social Integration and Upward Mobility, funded by the Ford Foundation. Project for Public Space examined eight markets around the United States, ranging from weekend farmers’ markets to outdoor flea markets and traditional market halls. The report concluded that public

74 Buildings of different functions markets hold special power in communities in so far as “public markets enhance the potential for social interaction in public spaces—attracting di­ verse income levels, ages, and ethnicity—and thereby create a sustainable vehicle for upward mobility and individual empowerment for low-income communities” (Project For Public Spaces 2003). Some markets, through the capacity for architecture to organise the friction between service space and served space in a controlled manner, display an even closer friction between service space and served space than that in the museums discussed above. This friction is particularly evident in the blurred boundaries of street food areas in Asia; however, it can also be observed outside Asia in markets and fairs where the architecture is de­ signed to make it so. The Marché des Enfants Rouges,1 at 39 Rue de Bretagne in the Marais, established circa 1620, is the oldest covered market in Paris (Pessard 1904, 218, 524). In its current form, the Marché des Enfants Rouges functions as a restaurant, as well as performing its traditional function as a grocery store. In the market, cooking is performed, and all storage and services in the middle of the market are visible to the public. Market personnel directly encounter the public in the normal course of their work and restaurant guests are in close proximity to the cook making their dishes. The marketplace and bar Ground Control in Paris’ Halle Charolais was designed by IKA Architectes and constructed in 2018. The original Halle Charolais (of Freyssinet type) was not originally intended to receive the public. In reclaiming the disused building, the objective of SNCF Immobilier (the client) was to use architectural features to enhance the building’s suit­ ability for public cultural events and festivals. Given the large scale of the Halle Charolais, IKA Architectes could not organise the space using classical gradients and hierarchies between public space and service areas. To deal with the challenge of scale, the architects incorporated several centrally lo­ cated shop-booths that are accessible from all four sides. The flower shop of Ground Control is one example in which total access for the public creates an unusual friction between service and served space. Outside of Asia and beyond, many regions have adopted more sophisti­ cated, fixed, and permanent restaurant architecture that functions horizon­ tally between service and served space. In Australian restaurants, especially in outdoor spaces where the climate is favourable, it is common for restaurant cooking and washing up to be visible to patrons. Libby Porter sees challenges and benefits of “formalising informality” (Porter 2011). The main benefit is the creation of lively neighbourhoods, in a similar way to public space. Lessons in formalising can be learned from informal street food stalls to design architecture that fosters a lively city. This intertwining enhances social interactions and fundamentally enhances public space. These concepts of friction between public and service areas can be extended into other func­ tional architectures beyond restaurants.

Thresholds of services areas 75 In stratified societies, the usual segregation observed in classical settings often makes people from lower economic classes invisible to those of the “served” class. The intertwining of service and served areas, such as those described above, is a type of organisation that overcomes classical fixed partitioning and hierarchies between service space and served space and thus creates an architecturally stimulated effect on people. The architecture becomes a metaphor for the intertwining of society. Making served areas visible makes work visible and is thus a political statement. The visual links between public spaces and workspaces in museums and markets create thresholds between public and semi-private space. These thresholds, and thus the presence and interaction of the public and the workforce, express the political economy of the site and its context, and a certain set of rules and norms, behaviours, and beliefs. These threshold spaces have the potential to be metaphors for the social context. More broadly, the array of threshold spaces in any city expresses the level and type of social interactions present in that city.

Retail shop thresholds This discussion of retail shops is an opportunity to analyse how retail co­ exists with public space and, in certain circumstances, enhances it. The discussion follows the constructive approach inspired by Benjamin. The Arcades are mainly composed of retail shops, which shows that an archi­ tecture composed of retail shops can, in certain conditions, display a wellfunctioning threshold space. When retail shops enhance public space A retail shop is a semi-private space that intertwines the public with the personnel of the shop. Retail can be challenging for public space, as retail activities, per se, do not necessarily enhance social interaction. Consumption strategies influence the behaviour of the people inside the shop and people just outside the shop. Maryam Lesan (2015) notes that many public spaces today have become commodity environments run by economic prospects rather than environments for enhancing the quality of life. Commodity en­ vironments are consumption-dominated spaces and differ from real public spaces due to their private ownership or excessive private influence. Retail areas are semi-private spaces that do not usually have sufficient functional or symbolic openness to be considered public space. Retail and consumption strategies can be considered as major forces that lead to the privatisation of public space. “The concept of privatisation suggests a past publicness is being eroded” (Iveson 1998, 22). The primary purpose of commodity environ­ ments is to maximise the benefit for business owners extracted from con­ sumers (Latham 2003). Commodity environments often accommodate those

76 Buildings of different functions with sufficient funds to purchase goods and consume and exclude the nonconsuming public (Lloyd and Auld 2003; Shaftoe 2009). Therefore, we can consider that commodity environments do not coincide with concepts of inclusion and democracy (Németh and Schmidt 2011). Extending the ana­ lysis from individual retail shops, we can see that shopping centres further erode spatial openness as individual shops become completely disconnected from open-air public space and therefore further erode concepts of inclusion and democracy. Zaha Hadid’s Dongdaemun Design Plaza in Seoul (2011) is a useful example of a shopping centre. It is a popular gathering space, but the main driver of this popularity is the image value provided by the brands that compose the backdrop for these public interactions. Gerard Reinmuth and Andrew Benjamin show that even if the design of the access to the building is made through continuous shapes that favour flow, the building is (functionally and symbolically) disconnected from exterior space. The distinguishing feature of the Dongdaemun Design Plaza is the way in which it is anchored to its site and context only through an abstract system of free-flowing and continuous circulation which, beyond linking up selected entrance and exit points to and from the site, lacks connection to forms of circulation and organising structures of the city itself. This system of continuous circulation dominates the project, given its role in providing an overall organisational logic that can only be differentiated at the level of external appearance. … The volumetric diagram retains its hegemony and as a result, programmatic concerns remain under-addressed. (Reinmuth and Benjamin 2020, 102) Given these characteristics, the Dongdaemun Design Plaza cannot be considered public space. Similar observations can be made about Kuala Lumpur’s Petronas Towers by César Pelli (1998), and numerous other contemporary shopping centres around the world. In certain conditions, the contrary situation can exist, in which public spaces are enhanced by a retail presence. There is extensive literature on the potential for social interaction in open-air shopping precincts. A de­ termining factor of the quality of the street environment and public space is how individual buildings address the street. Active shop frontages have a strong sense of “human presence”—that is, a sense of activity at the ground floor (Carmona et al. 2010, 192–193; Lesan 2015, 17). This “human presence” fosters a threshold space in front of the retail shop. The effect is similar to the one that will be discussed in Chapter 7 regarding the Oslo Opera House, and more generally to all semi-private spaces as they become social attractors.

Thresholds of services areas 77 Retail threshold space in an Australian Aboriginal community2 I have chosen to present an example of a retail shop in which retailers respond to basic needs rather than shops for the surplus economy, in which the marketing strategies of retailers dominate. That is, not a typical branddriven commercial environment. This discussion is also an opportunity to highlight architectural and spatial practice for remote Australian Aboriginal communities and to discuss architecture that falls outside the predominant Western and Asian models. The example is Kevin O’Brien’s project for the Retail Shop and Offices in Lockhart River, a town of approximately 720 people on Cape York Peninsula, Australia. A different notion of public space is described, as the town is not large enough to be occupied by a “crowd.” The example falls into our discussion of the impact of threshold spaces as it is characteristic of the numerous challenges of creating

Figure 5.2 Kevin O’Brien Architects in association with Project Services, Plan and views from the Retail Store and Offices, Lockhart River, Australia, 2013. Plan © Kevin O’Brien Architects. Photographs © David Hanson.

78 Buildings of different functions gathering spaces for Indigenous communities and the wider visiting public. In contrast with the other projects described in this book situated in large metropolises where the public is very large and so diverse that it cannot be described in detail, the very specific context of the Retail Shop site and its design requires description. Kevin O’Brien, an architect based in Brisbane (Yuggera land) and an Indigenous Australian descendant of the Meriam Mir and Kaurareg peoples of the Torres Strait Islands, draws on Indigenous knowledge and acts as a guide for practice, teaching and thinking about planning and architecture in Australia and abroad. Kevin O’Brien Architects have completed numerous architectural projects in Australia. In 2012, O’Brien exhibited Finding Country as a planning project for the City of Brisbane and as an art in­ stallation in a collateral event of the thirteenth Venice Architecture Biennale (O’Brien 2012): The project brought together 44 participants contributing to the making of a large 8 × 3m drawing of a reconsidered Brisbane where 50% of the city was removed to reveal O’Brien’s position in relation to the Aboriginal concept of Country … The associated technique is one of revelation through removal of the city, of the building, of mass, even land title, to reveal a new condition. (O’Brien 2018, 20) The Biennale Jury noted that Finding Country insists on the significance of Aboriginal Countries in our collective future, rather than historicising this knowledge or positioning it as an object of anthropological curiosity. The project is particularly significant for its activation of Indigenous knowledge in contemporary Australian urbanism, and in its challenge to nonIndigenous architects, here and elsewhere, to follow suit. (Venice Biennale Jury 2013, 98) The installation was presented peripheral to the Biennale centre. Tate director Nicholas Serota and French architect and academic Odile Decq concurred with thoughts that it was a shame that this spirit was lacking the international Giardini offerings, which indeed could have done with a bit of burning to reveal what they have been missing. (Grace 2013, 34) O’Brien’s voice, like the voice of many other Indigenous architects, is considered by the architectural profession to be central today to archi­ tectural discourse. By exhibiting at the Venice Biennale, at the metaphorical centre of global architectural debate for the duration of the Biennale,

Thresholds of services areas 79 O’Brien’s position was simultaneously both central and peripheral. By not merging with the mainstream nor being dissolved in the discourse of the mainstream, his voice gains volume through being an alternate perspective. O’Brien has furthered this dialectic, today working on the decolonisation of architecture from within one of the biggest architecture firms in Australia today, BVN. O’Brien sees his work as a practice of decolonisation through the means of architecture and urban planning. Decolonising architecture means, for him, creating cultural spaces that are appropriate for the functioning of community. In the past, so-called public spaces existed in the Missions of colonised Australia that were not real public spaces. These included the front of chur­ ches, other public buildings, or parade grounds, but no public space that was a cultural space for gathering. In contrast, the public spaces created by O’Brien are defined by their use and accessibility by people from all communities. More fundamentally, decolonising architecture in O’Brien’s practice means: •

• •

•

Relating each project to the concept of Country. That is, an Aboriginal sense of space, landscape, and territory. Sites belong to a bigger scale of the surrounding Country. A cultural reading of Country is necessary before proposing or deciding any architectural setting. Applying the concept of Country to the setting. The setting must be appropriate to the usages it needs to support. Applying the concept of Country to the palette of the project. Materials, colours, and textures, including artworks, must relate to Country. Creating a resulting architecture that cares for Country. This idea can be summarised as sustainability (O’Brien 2020).

O’Brien was inspired by the practice of internationally renowned Māori architect Rewi (Michael Robert) Thompson, who profoundly influenced a generation of Aotearoa (New Zealand) architects. Thompson was ap­ pointed an adjunct professor at the University of Auckland’s School of Architecture and Planning in 2002 teaching design. With colleagues, he developed a curriculum structure called Te Pare (The Threshold) in relation to the space of negotiation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous culture. In terms of public space, Thompson was influenced by the culture and practice of the marae, a communal or sacred place that serves religious and social purposes. Marae generally consists of an area of cleared land, roughly rectangular, bordered with stones or wooden posts, and in some cases a central stone. In Māori culture, the marae is still a vital part of everyday life. Instead of making a defined type of architecture labelled “Indigenous Architecture” which relies on stereotypes and has associated connotations (O’Brien 2018, 20), Rewi showed how customary concepts like marae could inform large-scale, urban, contemporary building proposals (Mitchell and Chaplin 1984; Kiddle et al. 2018, 5).

80 Buildings of different functions In the Mason Forensic Mental Health Clinic Extension project in Auckland (1998), he and others successfully advocated for the inclu­ sion of large, open foyers to accommodate pōwhiri (Māori welcome rituals), kaumātua (Elder) rooms and marae as a means to include whānau (extended family, sometimes also a political unit) in the patient inmates’ rehabilitation. (Kiddle et al. 2018, 6) Thompson’s understanding of place “involved negotiation—rites of foun­ dation and of construction. Place is not something simply found but made. Places, like buildings, are events” (Jenner 2016, 68). O’Brien’s project for the Retail Shop and Offices in Lockhart River pro­ vides commercial space and gathering space for the remote Aboriginal community. The Lockhart River community was formed through govern­ ment coercion as an Anglican mission in 1924 at Orchid Point near the Lockhart River on the border of lands of the Kuuku-Ya’u and Uutaalnganu People. The Mission gathered people from the Kuuku-Ya’u and Uutaalnganu people, the Wuthathi people from the north, the Umpila people to the south and the Kaantju people from further inland. In 1925, the Mission moved to Bare Hill (putchiwu’chi), which had a better water supply and the potential to grow limited crops. Under the rules of the new mission, the people of the community were not allowed to speak their own languages or to practise cultural traditions. Through “misguided policies of successive governments and missionaries” (Lockhart River Council, no date), “missions were like concentration camps” (O’Brien 2020). As with many similar situations in remote Australia, this history of forced moves and the assimilation policy of the government, combined with the fact that traditional groups speak dif­ ferent languages and hold different customs, resulted in much discontent, still evident today. Control of the Lockhart River Mission was handed over to the State government in 1967. Subsequently in 1987, the Lockhart River Community was given a Deed of Grant in Trust (DOGIT) title of the lands which are now administered by locally elected councillors (Butterworth 2014). The displacement of different language groups into common areas that coincide with other peoples’ lands means that things do not always go easily in the community. Every remote town in Australia needs a retail shop for locals that also provides an area for travellers to rest and revive. Due to its remoteness, the retail function is often merged with other service functions, including an information centre for both locals and visitors. Centrally located at the intersection of the town’s two main roads, the precise programme for the Retail Shop in Lockhart River is easily accessible by anyone. There are not many other public spaces in the shade, especially because there are no pubs in Lockhart River. The location, the function and the shade attract people and as such, the entrance and the space in front of the retail shop are a threshold in which encounters regularly occur. The threshold enables the

Thresholds of services areas 81 presence of people and interactions, and conversations start easily. There are people present in the threshold year-round whenever the shop is open;3 that is, every day except Sundays. In a typical tropical climate, the open, covered space that protects from rain and a harsh sun while enabling air to pass, provides relatively comfortable shelter. The large, covered threshold space in front of the shop is a space of ne­ gotiation of presence and enables people from different communities to perform a range of activities (Figure 5.2). According to O’Brien, the threshold extends to the trees in front of the building, which are used by people to stop for moment before accessing the covered threshold and the shop (O’Brien 2013). Sometimes, because of kinship norms, people of different kinship endeavour to avoid one another. Given this desire, people can stand under the trees and have a look at who is sitting in the covered area and who is inside the shop so as to decide whether or not to enter. O’Brien took this com­ munity requirement into consideration, incorporating a transparent door and facade, enabling people to keep track of who is where, enabling them to make a decision about entry. For the same reason, inside the shop, O’Brien de­ signed shelves that are torso height, enabling individuals to always see the space inside and outside the shop, and who else is present. Consistent with O’Brien’s practice aims, the design aesthetics of the building merge Western influences and Aboriginal principles and narratives. O’Brien worked with Uncle Lawrence Omeenyo (born 22 October 1942, died 10 April 2014) of the Umpila Community/Language Group, to inscribe a large artwork into the polycarbonate screen. “It provides a strong identity to this centre of the community” (O’Brien 2013). The building merges Indigenous and non-Indigenous aspects of its aesthetics, and more im­ portantly for the subject of this book, in its use. The decolonisation of architecture in remote Australia and other parts of the world, enables ap­ propriate design of public space for Indigenous communities. Culturally specific design, in terms of spatial organisation and specific shapes, can remain partially porous to anyone from the public. In this example, the threshold reinforces the bonds and kinship practices within the Aboriginal community while simultaneously being a space of social interaction be­ tween Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people. The concept of Third Space Jefa Greenaway is a Wailwan, Gamilaraay man, and an award-winning architect, interior designer, and lecturer/knowledge broker, focusing on Indigenous curriculum development at the University of Melbourne. Greenaway, director of Greenaway Architects, is confident that Indigenous and non-Indigenous cultures can merge in architecture. In reference to Joe McCullagh’s “bi-visual design” method (McCullagh 2017), Greenaway describes

82 Buildings of different functions the ability to consider, interpret or appreciate a dual understanding or design literacy that includes one’s own design lens as well as those of others, informed by different cultural viewpoints … By engaging with Indigenous voices, one can shift to a productive and informed approach which embeds inclusivity while embracing diverse perspectives. (Greenaway 2018, 157) Michael Mossman, Cairns Murri, descendant of Kulu Yalandji, Warungu and South Sea Islander Heritage, lives in Sydney and is currently teaching and researching at the University of Sydney School of Architecture, Design and Planning. Mossman concurs with Greenaway and defines the “in-between” zone of negotiation between Indigenous and Western viewpoints as “Third Space” (Mossman 2018, 198; Soja 1996; Bhabha 1994). Shifts in perception of architecture, from the oppressiveness of classicism to the hegemony of the International style, to the opening attitudes to allow for spatially diverse socio-cultural encounters in the built environ­ ment, can inform strengthened agendas for the marginalised and continue to facilitate alliance across cultural worldviews of difference. (Mossman 2018, 207) The project Mossman mentions as an expression of Third Space is the Aboriginal Tent Embassy, a permanent protest occupation site that re­ presents the political rights of Aboriginal Australians. Established in 1972 in protest against the McMahon government’s approach to Indigenous Australian land rights, it is comprised of signs and tents. Since 1992, the Tent Embassy has been located on the lawn opposite Old Parliament House in Canberra. Despite differences that arise, there are opportunities to overlap through un-hierarchical influence, incorporation, and conflict (Saïd 1993). It is because situations such as the Aboriginal Embassy that negotiation zones of Third Space continue to the present and inform future strategies. (Mossman 2018, 206) Referencing Noel Pearson (an Indigenous Australian from the Guugu Yimithirr Aboriginal community at Hope Vale, and a lawyer and activist), O’Brien says that the goal is to reach a “Radical Centre.” In his essay White guilt, victimhood and the quest for a radical centre, Pearson set out an agenda for the success of Aboriginal people in modern Australia (Pearson 2007). The radical centre is not to be found in simply splitting the difference between the stark and weak tensions from either side of popularly conceived discourse, but rather where the dialectical tension is most

Thresholds of services areas 83 intense and the policy positions much closer and more carefully calibrated than most people imagine. (Pearson 2007) The Radical Centre is a space and time of tension (O’Brien 2018, 22). By acknowledging the characteristics of competing forces, it is possible to bring them into a state of tension (O’Brien 2011). The concept of Radical Centre and the concept of Threshold have in common the expression of tensions and the dialectics of society. While O’Brien’s Retail Shop is a relatively small building in a small re­ mote Australian town, comparable Indigenous methodologies embracing dialectics like the Retail Shop are being developed throughout the world. This development is a key political challenge of the contemporary period. Architects from different continents unite, based on a similar respect for Country. O’Brien recently co-edited the book Our Voices: Indigeneity and Architecture with Indigenous colleagues from several countries (O’Brien 2013). A second volume, Our Voices II: The DE-colonial Project, was published in 2021. The array of Indigenous projects that consider public buildings as thresholds by embracing the dialectics of society can be con­ sidered a collective metaphor for our contemporary context.

Notes 1 The name can be translated in English as the “Market of the Red Children” and refers to the nearby “Hospice des Enfants-Rouges” where orphans were clothed in red (the colour of charity). 2 Ethics require that Indigenous architects can self-determine the process of re­ search into their work. Accordingly, I have written this analysis in discussion with Kevin O’Brien. While O’Brien did not wish to be a co-author and wanted this text to reflect my viewpoint, he has kindly fact-checked the completed text. In terms of methodology and content, this text has also been written under the supervision of Gillian Barlow, who has supervised Aboriginal studies in different universities, including Sydney University and Charles Sturt University. Barlow’s family has connections to the Barkanji people in Wilcannia. 3 From 8 am–5 pm Monday–Friday, and 8 am–12 pm on Saturdays. The offices are mostly used by government agencies providing services to the communities. By their presence, they also activate the public space of the threshold. Today, the offices are used only once or twice a month, but their presence is important for the symbolic value of the threshold.

References Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture. New York: Routledge, 1994. Brummer, Johanna and Saari, Heini-Emilia. Wanderlust website. 2020 14 April 2021. https://studiowanderlust.fi/aukio. Butterworth, Lee. Find and connect website. 2014. 14 April 2021 www. findandconnect.gov.au/ref/qld/biogs/QE00904b.htm.

84 Buildings of different functions Carmona, Matthew, Tiesdell, Steve, Heath, Tim, and Oc, Taner. Public Places, Urban Spaces. London: Routledge, 2010. Grace, Robert. “Finding Country, Review of the Venice Biennale exhibition by Kevin O’Brien.” In Architecture Australia (Nov/Dec 2013), 33–34. Greenaway, Jefa. “Embracing Cultural Sensitivities that Celebrate First Nations Perspectives.” In Kiddle, Rebecca, and Stewart, Patrick Luugigyoo, O’Brien, Kevin, eds. Our voices—Indigeneity and Architecture. Novato, CA: Oro, 2018. 154–163. Herzog, Jacques and de Meuron, Pierre. The Complete Works 4. Basel: Birkhäuser, 2011. Iveson, Kurt. “Putting the Public Back into Public Space.” In Urban Policy and Research 16:1 (1998), 21–33. Jenner, Ross. “In Memoriam Rewi Michael Robert Thompson.” In Interstices 17 (2016), 67–72. Kiddle, Rebecca, Stewart, Patrick Luugigyoo, and O’Brien, Kevin, eds. Our voices—Indigeneity and Architecture. Novato, CA: Oro, 2018. Knapp, Courtney. Project For Public Spaces. 2018. 14 April 2021 www.pps.org/ article/multicultural-places. Latham, Alan. “Urbanity, Lifestyle and Making Sense of the New Urban Cultural Economy: Notes from Auckland, New Zealand.” In Urban Studies 40:9 (2003), 1699–1724. Lesan, Maryam. Public Streets for Multicultural Use—Exploring the Relationship between Cultural Background, Built Environment, and Social Behaviour, Thesis. Wellington: Victoria University of Wellington, 2015. Lloyd, Kathleen M., and Auld, Christopher. “Leisure, Public Space and Quality of Life in the Urban Environment.” In Urban Policy and Research 21:4 (2003), 339–356. Lockhart River Council. Lockhart River Council website. no date. 14 April 2021 https://lockhart.qld.gov.au/our-history/. Mitchell, David and Chaplin, Gillian. The Elegant Shed: New Zealand Architecture Since 1945. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984. McCullagh, Joe. “Flux in the UK - focussing on unpredictable design education encounters.” Presentation at the International Council of Design Platform Meetings 14. Montreal, 14 October 2017. Mossman, Michael. “Third Space in Architecture.” In Kiddle, Rebecca, and Stewart, Patrick Luugigyoo, O’Brien, Kevin, eds. Our voices—Indigeneity and Architecture. Novato, CA: Oro, 2018. 1998– 209. Németh, Jeremy, and Schmidt, Stephen. “The Privatization of Public Space: Modelling and Measuring Publicness.” In Planning and Design 38 (2011), 5–23. O’Brien, Kevin. “Architecture and Consent.” In Kiddle, Rebecca, and Stewart, Patrick Luugigyoo, O’Brien, Kevin, eds. Our voices—Indigeneity and Architecture. Novato, CA: Oro, 2018. 20–29. O’Brien, Kevin. “In Pursuit of an Architecture Realism.” In Monument 101 (March 2011), 35–36. O’Brien, Kevin. “Retail store and offices, Lockhart River.” In Kevin O’Brien Architects website. 2013. 14 April 2021 http://koarchitects.com.au/retail-storeand-offices-lockhart-river. O’Brien, Kevin. Conversation with the author, 1 September 2020.

Thresholds of services areas 85 O’Brien, Kevin. Finding Country Exhibition Catalogue. Venice: Biennale di Venezia, 2012. O’Brien, Kevin, and Stewart, Patrick, eds. Our Voices II: The DE-colonial Project. Novato, CA: Oro, 2021. Pearson, Noel. “White guilt, victimhood, and the quest for a radical centre.” In Griffith Review 16 (2007), 34–72. Pessard, Gustave. Nouveau dictionnaire historique de Paris. Paris: E. Rey, 1904 Porter, Lily. “Informality, the Commons and the Paradoxes for Planning: Concepts and Debates for Informality and Planning.” In Planning Theory & Practice 12:1 (March 2011), 115–153. Project For Public Spaces. Public Markets as a Vehicle for Social Integration and Upward Mobility. New York: The Ford Foundation, 2003. Reinmuth, Gerard, and Benjamin, Andrew. “Autonomy-within relationality: An alternative for architecture after the Global Financial Crisis.” In Interstices: Journal of Architecture and Related Arts(2020), 93–106. Saïd, Edward. Culture and Imperialism. New York: Random House, Inc., 1993. Seogoo, Heo. “About the Ignominiousness.” In Space. 2018. 14 April 2021 https:// vmspace.com/eng/report/report_view.html?base_seq=NDMz. Shaftoe, Henry. Convivial Urban Spaces: Creating Effective Public Places. London: Sterling, 2009. Soja, Edward. Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-and-Imagined Places. Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1996. Venice Biennale Jury. “Finding Country Exhibition.” In Architecture Australia (Nov/Dec 2013), 98.

6

Thresholds in architecture for age-specific groups

What is the role of Threshold Architecture for the links between an agespecific group and the public? This chapter explores threshold issues related to groups and communities of different age ranges, especially youth (de­ linquent or non-delinquent) and the elderly.

Public buildings for youth and thresholds with public space There are some traits inherent in youth that can create lively frictions in so­ ciety. According to Karen Malone, young people can have “different/alter­ native/contesting cultural values, understandings, and needs—differences that should be supported and valued as significant contributions to the so­ cial capital of cities and towns” (Malone 2002, 157). According to the Transformative Youth Public Spaces (Tryspaces) research group, young people tend to hang out (loiter) and to transgress rules of public space, or of general society. Malone calls this “boundary riding” (Malone 2002, 159). This boundary riding “contributes to the development of their identity, allows them to express their worldview, and carve out a place for themselves in an increasingly urban and interconnected world” (Tryspaces 2019, 2). This re­ bellious tendency creates tensions in society that, instead of being excessively restrained, could be managed through the presence of zones of negotiation such as designed threshold spaces. In terms of boundaries, what is an appropriate design response to this tendency for public space? Psychiatrists say that youths need both rules and, at the same time, looseness and adaptability in their environment to “carve out a place for themselves.” According to Barry Percy-Smith, “conflicts ap­ pear to arise because of the ambiguous status of neighbourhood space and contested assumptions about young people’s right to use these spaces. These are often semi-public or transitional spaces, sandwiched between public and private realms” (Percy-Smith 2002, 68). This could be interpreted as an ar­ gument against threshold spaces. But the distinction between (very ambig­ uous) blurred boundaries and threshold spaces, as defined in the book, is important. Thresholds display boundaries (porous partitions) that give people both landmarks and looseness, enabling freedom and exploration. The DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-6

Architecture for age-specific groups 87 architectural design of thresholds focused on young people’s needs aims to keep the qualitative aspects of the ambiguity of status, while providing allo­ cated semi-private or semi-public spaces for youth. The integration1 of delinquent youth through links with public space There are few examples of Threshold Architecture influencing the design of facilities for delinquent youth. Tensions for integration into society of former delinquent youth can be especially acute. Two kinds of strategies for social integration of delinquent youth can be identified: at one end of the spectrum, strict incarceration; and at the other, softer strategies of super­ vision without breaking their links with society. For the softer strategies, planning and architecture are designed to support the seemingly contra­ dictory needs of control and keeping links to society. These strategies relate to the concept of Threshold. For example, numerous inhabitation pro­ grammes exist involving “transition homes” with shared services and fa­ cilities that have links to the surrounding urban fabric (Duryk 2019). Some architectural programmes extend the function of habitations to other educational functions. In France, different types of educational institutions for minors are organised by the Direction de la Protection Judiciaire de la Jeunesse (PJJ) (Directorate of Judicial Youth Protection). There are different types of Établissement de placement éducatif (EPE) (Educational Placement Establishment),2 some of which have a certain degree of openness to the city. For example, those with administrative buildings at the entrance that enable the staff to keep an eye on all comings and goings. The level of autonomy of resident youth is still low but better than for those in juvenile detection. Opportunities for interaction with the public are also often low, as these fa­ cilities are frequently located outside city centres (Grenier 2021). In terms of design, there is an opportunity to incorporate Threshold Architecture thinking for the development of improved facilities. There is potential to improve the lifestyle of subject youth and improve the situation for the general public. A public skatepark could be built at the interface between the establishment and public space, as one example of Threshold Architecture that could improve matters for all stakeholders. The educa­ tional benefits come with a risk factor that needs to be accepted by society. The way societies deal with former delinquent youth reveals how much confidence each society has in its youth, as a metonym for all society. It is a sign of trust coming from the society, and as a consequence, youth feel supported transitioning into adulthood. Two examples of Threshold Architecture in youth sports centres The Police and Community Youth Clubs (PCYC) programme in Australia offers examples of Threshold Architecture in youth sports centres. PCYC is

88 Buildings of different functions

Figure 6.1 Fjmt, Plan, sketch and two views inside Northern Beaches PCYC Community Centre, Dee Why, 2017. Plan and sketch © fjmt. Photographs by the author.

dedicated to all youth and offers “youth development programmes and sport, educational, vocational, creative, and recreational activities” (PCYC 2021). Founded in the 1920s and 1930s in different States of Australia, PCYC is one of Australia’s leading youth organisations. It is a not-for-profit organisation delivering a broad range of youth and community activities and support de­ signed to “empower young people … through personal development pro­ grams in partnership” (PCYC 2021). Clubs are welcoming and accessible to the public and have a clientele that is usually made up of friends and family of the young people attending the centres’ sport activities. Francis-Jones Morehen Thorp Pty Ltd (Fjmt) is an Australian architectural practice sensitive to youth in their architectural projects through careful design. An example of youth-sensitivity in their design is the Bunjil Place cultural centre in Casey, just outside Melbourne (2018). The design for this centre incorporates an area for the youth with large screens for video games in the middle of the public library and careful choice of materials providing acoustic control. Fjmt designed the Northern Beaches PCYC Community Centre, in Dee Why, NSW (Figure 6.1). At the Northern Beaches Centre, visiting public can attend games, spend time in the café, hang out in nooks, or just pass through. Located on the edge of the Dee Why town centre, the Centre is accessible from two sides, and is thus linked to its suburban context. According to fjmt: the plan is centred on a through link from the town centre. The South Entry is directed toward the civic precinct and town centre while the North Entry provides access to the immediate surrounding suburban context connected by a ceremonial stair to the ground plain below.

Architecture for age-specific groups 89 Internally, this through connection is juxtaposed with the cross-axis path between the sports hall and the multi-purpose rooms forming and intersection of pedestrian streets which defines the foyer. This, in turn, defines the ‘Pods’—discrete units that house various functional spaces including the ‘Drop-In’ centre and support spaces. The through link also initiates a continuity between internal and external spaces. (Fjmt 2017) The central space of the Centre, at the crossroads of two perpendicular pathways, functions as threshold space, thus enhancing negotiation of space between regular users and the public. In comparison with the examples of museums and other public foyers mentioned elsewhere in this book, in this example there is a limit to the publicness of the passage since the reception overlooks the space and staff “control” the space from a central position. That said, the Centre’s extended opening hours relative to museums and other public foyers make this building more readily accessible. Another example of Threshold Architecture in a youth sports centre is the Arena do Morro Gymnasium, designed by Herzog & de Meuron in 2014, in Natal, State of Rio Grande do Norte, Brazil. The design of the Arena do Morro Gymnasium is visually connected to its exterior, but less physically connected to public space than the example above. Since less connected to public space, there is less need for visual control by gymnasium staff. The gymnasium contains a sports field with tiered seating for 420 people, multipurpose rooms for dance and education, a terrace with ocean views, as well as changing rooms and public restrooms. Symbolically, from inside and out, the building appears open to public space. This has a psychological impact on users and through this inter-visibility, safety is enhanced both inside and outside the building. An array of cylindric rooms (a multi-purpose room, dance studios, and support spaces) define the partition between interior and exterior (Herzog and de Meuron 2014). There is an airspace gap between the rooms and the roof providing the feeling of being outside. Physical openness at roof level (as the roof hovers over the rest of the rooms) is practical because of favourable weather. The large roof extends beyond the partition wall and creates a continuity between interior and exterior public spaces. This example does not have an open threshold space, although the architectural tools (enclosed rooms constituting the porous partition and opening between the walls and the roof) could create a threshold space if current operating norms are relaxed. The contrast between actual openness of the Australian example and this Brazilian example reveals something of the local context and relative security. An example of Threshold Architecture at a university The Faculdade de Arquitetura e Urbanismo-Universidade de São Paulo (FAU-USP) (1966–69) by João Batista Vilanova Artigas is an iconic

90 Buildings of different functions building in Brazil that is porous to open-air public space and has covered public space as its central feature. The building addresses a population of young adult students, and professional and academic staff of the faculty. Sometimes, the central public space hosts political debates and strikes. The late 1960s through to the 1970s were marked by intense cultural and po­ litical resistance activities against the military dictatorship. The strongest icon of this period is a famous image from 1969 of the central covered public space entirely occupied by protesting students (FAUUSP 1969). Vilanova Artigas was a main actor in the movement for public democratic architecture in Brazil in the 1960s and 1970s. Artigas became involved in teaching architecture with the creation of the FAU-USP. For political reasons, Artigas, along with Paulo Mendes da Rocha, was forced to leave the school in 1969, returning in 1980. As a creator of the São Paulo Architecture Institute (IAB-SP), he became one of the leading figures in architectural debates in Brazil. A member of the Brazilian communist party (PCB), Artigas aimed to influence the country’s social changes with architectural tools. With a deep interest in the living conditions of the people, his political conviction was to combine art with life. His fight was set in continuity with the research of the Soviet con­ structivists avant-garde (Malevich, Rodtchenko, and so on). The objective of his buildings was to unite people (for reasons other than market activities), bringing them together to form community. He valued open public buildings as public squares. The merging of a building and a public square to create covered public space also has a practical purpose in Brazil’s climate since there is a need for shade and shelter from rain for gatherings. The number of buildings that were designed according to these democratic architecture principles may be few, given the urbanisation of Brazil; however, they remain strong references in the architectural and intellectual culture of the country. The FAU-USP is an example of Paulistan modern architecture. Its mas­ sive concrete elements are supported in a way that makes the building appear light. This creates fluid space connections between exterior and interior, and between different levels. Its six floors are connected by wide, gentle ramps. This spatial continuity reminds us of Frank Lloyd Wright’s architecture, an important influence for Artigas. Long torso-high concrete walls define semi-private studio spaces. One can experience life and work collectively in the studio spaces. According to Artigas, quoted by Marcelo Ferraz, “This building depicts the worthy ideals of today: I saw it as a spatialisation of democracy, in dignified spaces, without front doors, as I wanted it as a temple where all activities are valid” (Ferraz 1997, 101). The studio spaces are the setting for social interactions and friction that enhance debate amongst students. The central courtyard makes any gathering ap­ pear theatrical and makes politics visible. With this building, and many other schools and administrative centres he designed, Artigas influenced a generation of Brazilian architects. Artigas’s principles are reinterpreted in some more recent projects; for example, the Centro Cultural São Paulo (CCSP) by Eurico Lopes and Luiz (Benedito Castro) Telles (1974).

Architecture for age-specific groups 91 Artigas’s university architecture and the other youth-related examples discussed above show that Threshold Architecture can provide a place and freedom of movement that can be especially valuable for youth.

Threshold Architecture for the elderly In many traditional societies around the world, there is a well-functioning coexistence between people of different generations. This persists in most contemporary societies outside of the Western world. In these societies, elderly people commonly live in the same house as their children and are in close contact with their grandchildren. The extended social network en­ hances interactions between elderly people and other people.3 Today in the Western world, increasing longevity means there is an increase in the number of elderly people. With their seemingly contradictory needs for specific care and protection, on the one hand, and for continued connection to family and public life on the other, contemporary societies try to develop suitable architecture for the elderly. This means constructing public facil­ ities that are adapted to the elderly peoples’ needs, while giving them visi­ bility and social interaction with the rest of the community. Threshold Architecture can address these seemingly contradictory requirements. Links with public space have proved beneficial for the mental wellbeing of residents of aged care facilities. This has been described by Anjalika Wijesurendra in her PhD thesis on aged-care facilities: Community integration represents an approach to institutional care that encourages relationships with others (both within and external), independence in living, and activities that foster greater social mixing with the communities within and outside the institution. In Lee et al.’s study of three aged care homes in Sweden, they note that a facility which is sited within a community system fosters resident independence for social interaction with other residents, visitors, and local commu­ nities. It is noted that through the shared services between the community at large and the residents of a facility, there is “conse­ quently a flow of visitors of all ages connecting with the facility on a daily basis” (Lee et al. 2007, 9). The integration of older people into the community, outside the residential environment, as opposed to segre­ gation, has been identified as a contributor to healthy ageing. Greater community integration is a means of optimising health and wellbeing, by remaining part of a community and engaging in activities, within their capabilities, in a supportive environment. (Wijesurendra 2020, 72–74) Wijesurendra shows that the will to develop threshold spaces in aged-care facilities is strong today in Australia. One example of an aged care facility that is connected to the urban fabric in New South Wales, is Elanora Aged

92 Buildings of different functions Care at Shell Harbour. This facility is next to a popular shopping centre, where residents interact with the public in a safe environment. Another example from nearby Sydney is Bayswater Gardens aged care in Abbotsford, located next to a popular park on the banks of the Parramatta River, where interactions with the public can frequently occur. Because the park’s public space along the waterfront is highly valued, in the eyes of the public, this shows that the facility’s residents are respected and valued. On the other side of the country, the Swancare Leisure Centre in Perth, a retirement village that includes aged care facilities designed by Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects, incorporates an array of qualitative open-air public spaces. Perth is very safe, and this context enables a real openness. The use of “Leisure Centre” in the facility’s name distracts from the fact that it is an aged care facility. This naming plays a symbolic role. “Our proposal seeks to create a physical environment that supports a broad in­ terpretation of the meaning of retirement and responds to a diverse range of people, cultures, ages, health and fitness levels” (IPH 2021). At any time of day or night, the public spaces of the Centre can be crossed by non-resident pedestrians. Public transport with a dedicated stop is incorporated into the site. Residents have an exceptional sense of connection to urban life because of the connection that the Centre has with integrated public space. There are examples of aged care facilities in which the public can access the interior of the building. One example, Dougherty Apartments in Chatswood, a suburb of Sydney, has a recently built extension and refurbishment, de­ signed by Peddle, Thorp, and Walker Architects (PTW) (2017), which in­ tegrates public access into the aged care facility.4 The facility is located close to urban life and transport near Chatswood’s commercial centre and is easily accessible by pedestrian mall. The facility’s public interiors comprise shops, a library and coffee shop, on-site medical centre, and community centre along the ground floor entry. [The aim is] to enhance the community integration opportunities for residents, to maintain and encourage an active lifestyle within the facility and the wider community. (Wijesurendra 2020, 331) Landscape and street furniture also activate public interaction. “A range of external recreation areas were developed to cater for lawn bowls, croquet practice greens, and more intimate external seating nooks with BBQ for visitors and residents” (PTW 2017). Unfortunately for all of the examples above, the COVID-19 pandemic has forced governments to introduce regulations that have inhibited inter­ action between the elderly and the public to protect this most vulnerable group. Perhaps when the threat of the current pandemic has been reduced and access is practical once again, future architectural projects for aged care facilities will reconsider the feasibility and design of these connections with public space.

Architecture for age-specific groups 93 Threshold Architecture for traditional Aboriginal lifestyle spaces5 The Walumba Elder Care Centre for the Australian Aboriginal community in Warmun, Gija (or Kija) country, Western Australia, was designed by Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects (IPH) in 2014 (Figure 6.2). It provides a good example of Threshold Architecture in spaces accommodating a tra­ ditional Aboriginal lifestyle, and through its architectural expression de­ monstrates the need for interaction between the elderly and the public. IPH Architects collaborated with the Aboriginal community for the develop­ ment. IPH are not Indigenous architects but have worked closely with other Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples on their projects. In Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities, there is a lower percentage of older people than in the rest of the Australian population, due to health factors leading to lower life expectancies. This is even the case considering that an Aboriginal person is considered “old” at a younger age than usual in non-indigenous community. Walumba was made for the small community of Warmun (population 366 at the 2016 census), where 15.6% of the inhabitants are over 50 years old. In contrast, the general Western Australia population has 32% of the population older than 50. In Warmun, the main language group is Gija. In addition to Gija, Jaru, English, and Kriol, an English-based creole language, are spoken (Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) 2006). In the small town of Warmun, this building is a major facility. The site is situated in the middle of town, making public access easy. “The site was selected by the community to be close to the school and town centre, to ensure the Elders can continue their role as educators and cultural leaders” (IPH 2015). “This project has the particularity to be simultaneously agespecific and community-specific. The project began as a conventional aged care facility. Through collaboration with the Warmun community, the projects became an Elders Centre, and a home for cultural practices” (Iredale 2020). Although Elders are the ones who have a respected position in society, the Elders Centre is dedicated and open to all old people in the community. Following the local 2011 floods, IPH worked with the community Elders and the care staff to design a new building based on their cultural and social needs. The facility was designed to remain above the 2011 flood level, standing some three metres off the ground, like a bridge or jetty and linked to the ground through a stone pitched driveway, walkways, and stairs. (IPH 2015) Although interiors are all on level 1, to provide protection from flooding, the architects and the community successfully developed a design that keeps links to community and public space with the building’s exterior spaces and some of its interior spaces openly accessible to the public.

Figure 6.2 Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects (IPH), Plan of level 1 of the Walumba Elders Centre, Warmun, Gija country, Western Australia, 2014. Plan © IPH.

94 Buildings of different functions

Architecture for age-specific groups 95 The height requirements have provided an opportunity for reinforcement of threshold spaces throughout both ground floor and level 1. On the ground floor, a courtyard can be shared by residents, the local Aboriginal population, and the public during the daytime. A fireplace, in the middle of the courtyard, hosts smoking ceremonies (IPH 2015b), gathering people from the Elders Centre and people from outside. There is a limit to the publicness of the Centre that warrants mention: there is a small fence around the building which prevents any rapid approach by ill-intentioned people. It has two gates that are closed at night. Despite this, the site still appears to be connected with the surrounding public space and maintains its symbolic openness. The central foyer and common activity areas on level 1 are accessible, though slightly less public than the ground floor. According to Iredale, “visitors are met at the entry and invited in through greeting, which aligns with common practice of respect of Aboriginal space” (Iredale 2020). The threshold areas on level 1 comprise a common dining and activity area with a fire pit to allow for the cooking of bush foods, which also serves as a central meeting and celebration area for the general community. The other open spaces on level 1 comprise artist spaces for a range of activities for residents. A roof defines shaded veranda spaces and protects from heavy rain. Due to hot daytime temperatures, community activities often occur during night-time, and so lighting is important. Also because of the tem­ perature, the outdoor spaces are equipped with fans enabling continuous use. “A commercial laundry on level 1, is open to all, providing an addi­ tional public feel to these open spaces” (Iredale 2020). The semi-private functions of the Centre include a kitchen and other services for the residents, gender-specific activity areas to allow for cultural activities to occur, and the Centre’s administration area. There are genderspecific activity areas in both wings, one wing for male activities, and the other for female activities. These gender-specific activity areas are accessible by residents, people from all Warmun’s language groups, and invited Aboriginal people from outside Warmun. Language groups, kinship norms, and tribal culture orchestrate the presence and movement inside the building and the site. As a usage example, men from one clan could meet in the male wing to the exclusion of men from other clans, and at a separate point in time, the same space could be used by men from another clan for a similar purpose. The concept of Threshold is very important in the architecture of the building and the way the building is used. The building displays physical and functional openness with respect to cultural practices and codes. The intertwining of public and private space is organised without losing the spatial structure of the project. Iredale said that the building balances privacy of the residents while allowing family access to support … The concept relates to ‘bridge’ not only as physical

96 Buildings of different functions infrastructure but also as transmission of knowledge between genera­ tions and as a place of care and respite before the possibility of passing from this existence to the next. (IPH 2020) The spatial organisation of the building enables the negotiation of space taking into account aspects of local Aboriginal culture, including matters of gender separation and avoidance relationships (for example, son-in-law/ mother-in-law avoidance). The threshold spaces around the fire pit are also favourable for managing inter-family conflict issues (Iredale 2020).

Notes 1 In opposition to “segregation,” “integration” is defined as the act or process of mixing people who have previously been separated. 2 Établissement de Placement Éducatif (EPE) is a generic term that comprises all PJJ “boarding houses.” From the less enclosed to the more enclosed, they com­ prise: the Unité Éducative d’Hébergement Collectif (UEHC), the Centre Éducatif Renforcé (CER) (Reinforced Educational Centre) and the Centre Éducatif Fermé (CEF) (Closed Educational centre). Then come the prison and the juvenile ward (Ministère de la Justice 2021). 3 As summarised by Anjalika Wijesurendra, who wrote her PhD on the subject: In many traditional societies around the world, the older population typically lived in an extended family structure dependent upon the younger generation. Alternatively, the older generations lived in their own home which would be later inherited by the next generation (Foner 1997). This arrangement was based on a mutual exchange of services, with the younger generation providing care for their parents in old age and the older generation providing childcare for grandchildren, and passing down their knowledge, values, and life experience, to the growing young in the household (Wang 2011; Stuifbergen et al. 2008). In the majority of Western OECD countries, however, extended family structures are no longer the norm, and the expectation is increasingly for the state to support the care that is required for the older population (Franklin et al. 2009). As a result, with a disproportionately large increase in older populations around the globe, as compared to the working population, governments are becoming increasingly challenged to provide appropriate care levels and funding for the older population (Herrmann 2012; May 2012). (Wijesurendra 2020, 24–25) 4 Social engagement was an important element in the development of this facility from the start: while some aged care facilities can be unaffordable for some re­ sidents, the vision of Mr. Bob Dougherty and his wife was to “have a facility where aged people, including the socially and financially disadvantaged, could reside in Chatswood” (Dougherty Apartments 2009). 5 Ethics require that Indigenous architects can self-determine the process of re­ search into their work. Accordingly, this text has been written under the super­ vision of Gillian Barlow, who has supervised Aboriginal studies in different universities, including Sydney University and Charles Sturt University. Barlow’s family has connections to the Barkanji people in Wilcannia.

Architecture for age-specific groups 97

References Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS). “2006 Census QuickStats.” In Australian Bureau of Statistics website. 2006. 14 April 2021 https://quickstats.censusdata. abs.gov.au/census_services/getproduct/census/2006/quickstat/SSC55851. Dougherty Apartments. Dougherty Apartments website. 2009. 14 April 2021 www.doughertyapartments.org/. Duryk, Mike. “New youth transition home opens in Whitehorse.” In CBC News. December 2019. 14 April 2021. www.cbc.ca/news/canada/north/whitehorseyouth-transition-home-porter-creek-1.5388006. FAUUSP. Image of student protest inside the Faculdade de Arquitetura e Urbanismo-Universidade de São Paulo. 1969. 14 April 2021 www.fau.usp.br/. Ferraz, Marcelo C. Vilanova Artigas. São Paulo: Instituto Lina Bo e P.M. Bardi, 1997. Fjmt. “PCYC Northern Beaches.” In ArchDaily. 2017. 14 April 2021 www.ArchDaily.com/898106/pcyc-northern-beaches-fjmt. Foner, Nancy. “The Immigrant Family: Cultural Legacies and Cultural Changes.” In International Migration Review 31:4 (1997), 961–974. Franklin, Mark N., Mackie, Thomas and Valen, Henry, eds. Electoral Change: Responses to Evolving Social and Attitudinal Structures in Western Countries. Colchester: ECPR Press, 2009. Grenier, Mathieu. Conversation of the author with Mathieu Grenier (Combas Architectes), 7 June 2021. Herrmann, Michael., “Population Aging and Economic Development: Anxieties and Policy Responses.” In Journal of Population Ageing 5:1 (2012), 23–46. Herzog, Jacques and de Meuron, Pierre. “Arena do Morro.” In ArchDaily. 2014. 14 April 2021 www.ArchDaily.com/509030/arena-do-morro-herzog-and-de-meuron. IPH. “Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects, Walumba Elders Centre.” In ArchDaily. 29 Apr 2015. 14 April 2021 www.ArchDaily.com/625274/walumba-elderscentre-iredale-pedersen-hook-architects. IPH. “Swancare Leisure Centre.” In Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects website. 2021. 14 April 2021 http://iredalepedersenhook.com/?portfolio=swancareleisure-centre-pavilions-and-external-works. IPH. “Walumba Elders Centre.” In Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects website. 2020. 14 April 2021 http://iredalepedersenhook.com/?portfolio=wulumbu-agedcare-centre. IPH. “Walumba Elders Centre.” In Vimeo. 2015b. 14 April 2021 https://vimeo. com/146080192. Iredale, Adrian. Conversation with the author, 16 December 2020. 2020. Lee, Sookyoung, Dilani, Alan, Morelli, Agneta and Byun, Hearyung. “Health Supportive Design in Elderly Care Homes.” In Architectural Research 9:1 (2007), 9–18. Malone, Karen. “Street Life: Youth, Culture and Competing Uses of Public Space.” In Environment & Urbanisation 2 (October 2002), 157–167. May, John F. “Population Policies in Developed Countries.” In May, John F, ed. World Population Policies: Their Origin, Evolution, and Impact. Heidelberg: Springer, 2012. 171–205. Ministère de la Justice. “Les établissements de placement.” In Ministère de la Justice website. No date. 14 April 2021 www.justice.gouv.fr/justice-des-mineurs-10042/

98 Buildings of different functions la-dir-de-la-protection-judiciaire-de-la-jeunesse-10269/les-etablissements-de-pla­ cement-18684.html. PCYC. PCYC NSW website. No date.14 April 2021 www.pcycnsw.org.au/. Percy-Smith, Barry. “Contested Worlds: Constraints and Opportunities in City and Suburban Environments in an English Midlands City.” In Chawla, Louise, ed. Growing up in an Urbanising World. London: UNESCO and Earthscan, 2002. 57–80. PTW. “Refurbishment, Dougherty Apartments and Residential Care.” In PTW website. 2017. 14 April 2021 www.ptw.com.au/ptw_project/doughertyapartments-ageing-in-place/. Stuifbergen, Maria C., van Delden, Johannes J. M. and Dykstra, Pearl A. “The Implications of Today’s Family Structures for Support Giving to Older Parents.” In Ageing and Society 28:3 (2008), 413–434. Tryspaces. Annual report 2017–2018. Montreal: Institut national de la recherche scientifique, 2019. Wang, Szy-Yao. “Nursing Home Placement of Older Parents: An Exploration of Adult Children’s Role and Responsibilities.” In Contemporary Nurse 37:2 (2011), 197–203. Wijesurendra, Anjalika. Towards a model for community integrated residential aged care: Evidence from four case studies in New South Wales, PhD Thesis, UNSW Sydney. 2020. 14 April 2021 http://unsworks.unsw.edu.au/fapi/ datastream/unsworks:71174/SOURCE02?view=true.

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Public space as threshold space

What is the role of threshold spaces in public space? This chapter considers open-air public spaces that have landscaping features or public furniture that define boundaries and are thus considered as “architectures.” In this chapter, we initially consider threshold spaces that are open-air spaces and not directly connected to a building. The status of a threshold space depends on the status of its related public space, one revealing the other. Further to the definition of “public space” provided in the Preamble, Jürgen Habermas identifies a quality of public space that relates it to the idea of threshold. For him, the “public” denotes an intermediary sphere between the State and society’s private life—a re­ interpretation of the concept of the public sphere that excludes the State and State administration (Habermas 1989). This idea of threshold between public and private spheres shows how close the notions of public space and thresholds are. Habermas’s definition of public space as the intertwining of two spheres demonstrates that the status of public space is not fixed, but a process. Public space is “working” at certain moments in time, and we cannot en­ sure and predict that a space will carry on working as a public space in the future. This success of public space, as a process, relies on the ability of the physical space to foster social interactions. To avoid depicting an ideal picture of instinctive social interactions, this process also needs to embrace the negotiations and frictions in public space.

Public space as a space of negotiation Philosopher Jacques Rancière emphasises the conflictual aspect of public space. Instead of seeing public space as a space of compromise, balance, and harmony, Rancière argues for public space as dissensus, friction and conflict that translates into individuals and communities being in a state of constant negotiation. Rancière’s definition of public space is not an ontological one but is based on different principles according to which this constant friction is operated. It is the difference between the social (our everyday life) and politics (Rancière 2010, 28). Politics involve an DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-7

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open-ended set of practices which are themselves driven by the assump­ tion of equality (between any and every speaking being) and by the urge to test this equality (during and through partaking). For Rancière, commu­ nity exists when there is “the staging of a ‘we’ that separates the com­ munity from itself” (Corcoran 2010, 16). This theory of the public sphere finds a spatial setting in physical public space. These dynamics of a constant reconfiguration of the notion of community are made visible as public space, or in public space. In The Politics of Literature, Rancière spoke about regions of different intensities in constant redefinition, in reference to “Deleuze’s molecular equality of micro‐events, of individualities that are no longer in­ dividuals but differences in intensity” (Rancière 2011, 25–26). According to Rancière, the differences of intensities are in opposition to homogeneous space (of communism, of capitalism, or of bad democracy). Rancière criticises a democratic functioning of public space as consensus (Rancière 1995). In contrast to the sad reality of modern democracy cast as the rule of necessity, “the sheer pace of the ‘differences in intensity’ cures you of any social fever” (Rancière 2011, 25–26). Public space is therefore not an ahistorical datum, but an evolutionary space crossed by contradictory tensions, where democracy is founded and re-founded, each time at the risk of dissolving (Dacheux 2007, 17). The expression of the different aspects of public space—that is, rules and norms (political economy is considered as the major overarching norm1), behaviours and beliefs—is a sign of democratic life. Following Rancière’s theory of “dissensus,” friction between these aspects enhances democratic life. Public space is thus the space inherent to democracy where the conflicts between these aspects are expressed. Most authors, such as Mumford (1961), Sennett (1971), Low (2000), whether or not they accept the dissensus theory, concur on the idea of a strong re­ lationship between well-functioning urban public space and democracy. Public spaces are an important aspect of democratic societies. According to Mitchell (2003, 130), “Public Space occupies an important (but con­ tested) ideological position in democratic societies.” Spatial and cultural dimensions of democratic political practices can be re-evaluated through the “making and remaking of public spaces” (Low 2000, 247). The idea of erosion of the publicness of public space has become com­ monplace in current literature. The most pessimistic authors are of the view that public space is drastically disappearing, if not already non-existent. According to Mike Davis, an early exponent of the threat to public space, “genuinely democratic space is virtually extinct” (Davis 1990, 156). This view is too pessimistic. While it can be argued that public space is fragile, it still exists, provides benefits to society, and reflects society and all its characteristics. The Threshold approach has a role to play, especially in places where public space is fragile.

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Thresholds of public space The public space in front and on top of the Oslo Opera House2 is a very good example of a well-functioning public space, shown in Figures 7.1 and 7.2. The Opera House stands on Bjørvika Peninsula, part of the harbour city, “which is historically the meeting point with the rest of the world.” According to the Opera House architects, Snøhetta, “The dividing line between the ground as ‘here’ and the water as ‘there’ is both a real and a symbolic threshold.” The “Threshold” here can be used as a metaphor for the link between Norway and the rest of the world, as well as for the relation between art (that is present inside the building) and everyday life. The building also forms a landmark in the landscape and cityscape of Oslo. “The building connects the city and fjords, urbanity and landscape” (Snøhetta 2008). The public space is a roofscape with a gradient, the shape of which en­ hances links with the cityscape. In this space, visitors can stand or sit, chat or look at the view. The roofscape has an articulated form, like an exten­ sion of the cityscape. Through its shape and location, the public space entices social interactions. Instead of having groups of people only able to relate to one another on a grounded flat public space, from this aspect, people can relate to the city as well as to each other. From the exterior public space, people can also see inside and thus can relate to the interior of the Opera House. The building is split in two by the

Figure 7.1 Snøhetta, View of Oslo Opera House, 2007. Photograph © Wikimedia Commons. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d8/9_ of_10_-_Opera_House%2C_Oslo_-_NORWAY.jpg

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“opera street” that runs north–south, its glass facades visually connecting the interiors to the public exterior. From the roofscape, visitors can see ballet rehearsal rooms at the upper levels and workshops at street level. Since the semi-private spaces of the Opera Hall are constantly visible and in close proximity, people experience the roofscape as an extension of the Opera. That is, the rooftop public space can be considered a threshold, despite being exterior to the building. It is more enjoyable to be in public space that is “tinted” by the qualities of a cultural building than to be in a public space that is disconnected from the urban fabric. Figure 7.1 shows that the small group interactions are momentary private usages of this public space. Just imagine a public space and remove in your mind the closest public building situated at its edge (if there is one): there is less enticement to stop, and public space tends to instead be circulation space. In comparison, the open architectural threshold of the Opera House en­ hances public space. By looking at the same cityscape and physical reality as others, regardless of their age or social class, all using the rooftop, co-presence in public space allows individuals to share a common experience of the world. This may appear to be a mere visual experience of looking onto the same physical reality from the same vantage point. However, it is part of a multi-layered experience of the presence of others. Alfred Schutz develops a theory of “alter ego” defined as “that subjective stream of consciousness whose activities I can seize in their present by my own simultaneous activities” (Schutz 1962, 174).

Figure 7.2 Snøhetta, View of Oslo Opera House, 2007. Photograph © Wikimedia Commons. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Oslo_ Opera_House_seen_from_Langkaia.JPG

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Sharing a present, which is common to more people, can construct a “pure sphere of the ‘We’” (Schutz 1962, 175). Displaying a roofscape that can be freely occupied by people is an expression of democracy. A last anecdote: the material used for the Oslo Opera roofscape is the Italian marble (from La Facciata), thus referring to Roman public spaces. Like the Centre Pompidou, mentioned in chapter 4, the Oslo Opera House has become an iconic project. This building is not only a glossy icon but it features inclined planes as catalysts for social interactions and spatial negotiation. While being adapted to the site, its topology shares some characteristics of singular Benjaminian topologies. It is interesting to note the commonalities between the Yokohama Ferry Terminal and the Oslo Opera House. In both cases, the public space is a threshold space, topo­ logically intertwined with the building as Threshold Architecture. Both sites summon the imagination of travel, the sea, and the landscape. We can speak of a collective dream. Manufactured consumerists dreams are en­ capsulated in the Ferry Terminal, while this is more questionable in the Oslo Opera House. Another example of a public building creating a threshold is Paulo Mendes da Rocha’s MuBE (Museu Brasileiro de Escultura), constructed in São Paulo in 1995. MuBE is a private museum, but is of public interest, and is generally perceived as a public building. MuBE mainly promotes Brazilian sculptures and other kinds of art, such as painting (at its opening, it was intended to be a museum for sculpture and ecology). All the exhibition rooms are under­ ground below public space and are sparsely lit. The mass of a brutalist concrete beam of great span (12 metres wide and 60 metres long) is felt as an imposing presence above the heads of people in this public space. MuBE’s public space is more architecturally framed than the public space associated with the Oslo Opera House. MuBE’s public space is framed in plan, through a difference in levels from ground level, and in section, through the concrete beam. Regular markets and social events are organised in the public space, and more casual social gatherings also happen. The open-air public space is “tinted” by the underground presence of the museum, alluded to by the protruding elements on the ground floor. If there was no museum, this framed space would not work so well as a public space.3 Public space becomes less public when one of the components of the public space prevails (that is, the expression of rules and norms, or the expression of behaviours and beliefs). The Place Bellecour in Lyon demonstrates that thresholds can counteract this predominance of a single aspect and enable public space to keep its publicness. The Place Bellecour is a large public space that used to be a military parade ground. The expression of rules or norms prevail as heritage from the past. The centre of the Place Bellecour is usually just frequented by pedestrians crossing from one corner of the square to another. A Monument to Louis XIV sits at the middle of the public space. The monument is a bronze equestrian statue of Louis XIV made by sculptor François-Frédéric Lemot in 1825. Visitors do not usually feel comfortable

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standing next to the statue and chatting with others because it is an exposed area. It is just used as a meeting point in an uncrowded area. The expression of the rules or norms, through the symbolic heritage inherent in this royal statue, dominates the centre of Place Bellecour. “History is full of examples of public places that signified authority and control, filled with symbols of power, from the statues of kings to the corporate logos” (Madanipour 2003, 131). Bordering Place Bellecour, is a series of shops, which are the expression of contemporary political economy. The margins of Place Bellecour accom­ modate public gatherings in small groups of diverse socioeconomic back­ grounds, which enhances the publicness of this public space. The shops are clustered to suit wealthier clientele on one side of the square. The margins constitute a threshold between the shops and the central area of the square which is a space of representation. This diverse expression of the political economy, including people from the suburbs and wealthier inner-city de­ mographics, supports the conclusion that the margins of Place Bellecour can be considered public space as thresholds. A similar effect is observable in the iconic plaza de la Constitución or Zócalo in Mexico. When the representative function of a public square dominates, social interactions on thresholds do not exist, such as is the case with Moscow’s Red Square.

Thresholds that enhance events in public space Ludger Schwarte’s philosophy identifies well-functioning public space as a space of “events.” (Schwarte 2019). The Palais-Royal in the centre of Paris is an historic example of a public space linked to its city’s socio-political context. The Palais-Royal was initially constructed in the seventeenth century, with additions in the eighteenth century. According to Schwarte, the highlight of its function as public space was the period of the French Revolution. The location and architecture of the Palais-Royal fostered gathering, debate, playing, and feasting, all related to the Revolution (Schwarte 2019, 421–427). These gatherings were historic collective events that expressed revolutionary behaviours and beliefs and challenged the rules of the royalty. For Schwarte, well-functioning public spaces are those spaces that en­ hance the possibility of unexpected events. Schwarte’s philosophy builds on the philosophies of Habermas and Rancière, among others, in suggesting that some public spaces are “spaces for the emergence of concrete possi­ bilities for … positions, actions and demonstrations” (Schwarte 2019, 7). According to Schwarte, the potential for this to occur depends on three factors: architectural settings, urban context, and social context. These three factors are consistent with the ideas expressed in the preamble of this book. In terms of architectural setting, the most important aspects are the space’s ability to bring people together, the articulation (or arrangement) of its spaces, and its accessibility and transparency (Schwarte 2019, 429). With regards to urban context, the urban location of the building in the

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city and its temporal existence are equally relevant. Schwarte uses several words to qualify his understanding of public spaces likely to support the emergence of an event. These include: “indeterminate spaces,” “transition spaces,” “the transitory zone which contains the whole palette separating being-alone and being-together,” spaces displaying a “tension between the monument and public space [and thus] express an urban dialectic” (Schwarte 2019, 89, 149–150, 424). A social context conducive to the emergence of events is necessary. Schwarte develops his ideas from the architectural conditions of democracy extant in Ancient Greek public buildings, especially the Pnyx. In a fa­ vourable social context, thresholds prompt the emergence of events by enabling visitors’ creativity and freedom: “The creativity of the user, even in his occasional autonomy, remains always guided through the web of commandments and orders” defined by the architectural organisation (Schwarte 2019, 178). For Schwarte, the experiential opposition identified by Michel Foucault between a structure of things and a practice of freedom dissolves in such buildings—the Palais-Royal, for example—where “the effective exercise of freedom is an architectonic act in which men and things tie up a new, more open arrangement.” “Architecture is neither a product nor a fabrication, but an act which frees other possibilities for action.” In the spatial organisation identified by Schwarte, public spaces are “archi­ tectural heights of creative anarchy” where the event is “unpredictable.” The event is the “emergence of singularity through liberty” (Schwarte 2019, 11, 211, 426, 471). Like Benjamin, and possibly inspired by Benjamin, Schwarte identifies examples such as urban squares, boulevards, theatres of the nineteenth century, and the Palais-Royal in revolutionary Paris as possessing the three factors and thus having the potential for “events.” An example of public space as a metaphor for the socio-political context Public spaces that generate potential for “events” are public spaces as me­ taphors for the social context. The notion of “event” enables us to draw a line between a public space where dialectics are expressed with medium intensity, and public space where the expression of dialectics is intensified through the combination of architectural/urban factors and the social context. The public space situated under the MASP (Museu de Arte de São Paulo Assis Chateaubriand), built in 1957–1968 by Lina Bo Bardi, is an example of a public space related to iconic historic demonstrations and gatherings. From 1964 on, Brazil, like other Latin American countries, experienced a right-wing military dictatorship. It began with the coup of 31 March 1964 led by Marshal Castelo Branco, who overthrew the elected President João Goulart (nicknamed Jango). The coup ended the Second Republic and es­ tablished a military regime that lasted until the election of Tancredo Neves

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in 1985. This building has a strong political meaning related to the context of the dictatorship. The public space and the building function together. Bo Bardi created a radical architecture by suspending a two-floor exhibition space above ground level leaving the space below as public space. A technical constraint (the street tunnelling underground) resulted in this radical architectural gesture, that put Brazil in the first rank of modern architectural debates at that time. This public space became an important landmark on Avenida Paulista and for the city for all citizens of São Paulo. The MASP frames the view overlooking the city and functions as a “secular temple.” As described by Mircea Eliade, a “temple” can be “hidden under the public building.” According to Eliade’s view, the architecture of democracy is not completely secular. The profane is just another manifestation of the same constituent structure of man, which was previously manifested under the term “sacred.” Public buildings as temples create a temporal pause in the or­ dinary temporality of the city. The sacred or mythical time is then defined by what brings us out of ordinary temporal duration and enables a col­ lective event. Paradoxically, “it is the eternal present of the [underlying] mythical event that makes possible the profane duration of historical events” (Eliade 1959, 89). This dialectic can be observed in numerous de­ mocratic public spaces and buildings. In the context of resistance to the military dictatorship, Bo Bardi did not only construct a building, but also a democratic public square. As it is an important meeting place, the covered public space is a political symbol. As a combination of Pnyx and Agora, the public space is the threshold of the building as a temple, where the visitor is both spectator and actor. MASP’s location and spatial organisation gives it a symbolic meaning linked to the concept of democracy. It expresses some aspects of the social context of the 1950s and 1960s, the period of its construction—that is, those aspects re­ lated to the political debate that was a threat to the dictatorship. From its construction to the present day, the public space has retained political agency, fostering gatherings and public debates. The public space has been and still is often used for concerts, feasts, political meetings, and markets. In contrast, the National Congress of Brazil by Oscar Niemeyer in Brasilia (1957–1964) is a symbol of the State that does not welcome the crowd. When there are demonstrations at the National Congress, protesters face the building from a distance, symbolic of confrontation. Like the piazza in front of the Centre Pompidou, mentioned in chapter 4, the open public space of the MASP functions as threshold space, and, through this, functions all the better as public space. The threshold spaces of Centre Pompidou and the MASP are nevertheless exceptional. Their central location in metropolises, the symbolic importance of the adjacent architecture, and the quality of the overall design, ensure these spaces a political impact.

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Public space as Thresholds in high-rise buildings How can an event take place in public spaces in high-rises? Among the different types of public spaces that are developed today, high-rise public space is the most challenging to create because of accessibility issues. The main driver for the development of public spaces in high-rises is the increasing density of cities. This increasing density tendency is especially strong in metropolises like Singapore and Hong Kong. There is a desire to design public spaces in high-rise buildings to create spaces that overlook the city. The positive qualities and impact gained for public space from over­ looking the city have been mentioned previously in our discussion of the Oslo Opera House. Through this relation to the city, public spaces in high-rises have a sense of connection to the city, albeit a symbolic connection. Making public spaces in high-rises reverses the classical urban gradients between open public space and enclosed private interiors. Public space in a high-rise is disconnected from open-air public space at ground level (the street, for ex­ ample) because an array of levels, usually privately owned, separates them. There are other challenges for successfully creating public space in a high-rise: •

•

•

•

Physical openness requires an absence of security checks and turnstiles, which is challenging in most contemporary metropolises. Openness requires an absence of segregation at the entrance, allowing free access by diverse communities. For a high-rise that has public space, the scale of the foyer and elevators needs to be larger than those for usual high-rise buildings (offices, for example). Symbolic openness requires that the public status of the foyer is clearly expressed through its architecture: width of the entrance, enhanced by the transparency of the doors/facades, height of the foyer, no private signs of ownership, and so on. The elevator(s) create a link to the public space, but the constraints associated with taking an elevator do not allow easy and free access to all. Even if the number of elevators is multiplied, each one is small and does not have a public feel. Public space in a high-rise really works as a public space when the elevators and other accesses can be thresholds and do not act as barriers. Solutions need to be invented. The challenge of physical and symbolic openness remains today. The owner of this public space in a high-rise is usually the private sector. Private sector ownership imposes a predominant “rules or norms” or “set of beliefs” that affects the meaning of the space. Already, when a public space is under the visual control of a private office building or a private residence on the ground floor, it loses its fully public status. There is a challenge to keep public space protected from the influence of the private sector, and from the influence of an institution that would act like a private manager (Leclercq 2018). In the

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Buildings of different functions case of a public space in a high-rise, public ownership is a prerequisite for the publicness of public space. If public space is over-controlled, either through guards, CCTV, or other technical devices, the predomi­ nance of “rules or norms” do not enable public space. Following Schwarte, we lose the possibility of a collective event. The spatial configuration of the public space itself, and its connection to other floors. The scale of the space (width, length, height) needs to be large enough to be considered public. The spatial organisation needs to enable and enhance the negotiation of space. This means that the people are not perceived as a stable and homogeneous group in a uniting interior. Permanent negotiation of space is enhanced by the easy and permanent arrival and departure of people in a fluid way. Some nooks must be assembly-friendly for small groups or private interac­ tions. These interactions should be spontaneous, rather than organised through formal table and chair areas or any other furniture.

For some authors, having a large space that is publicly accessible is suffi­ cient to assert that a public space in a high-rise is fully public (Parakh et al. 2018). However, following the definitions of different statuses of usages given in this book, a space that aligns with these requirements is more likely to be a semi-private space. Public space in high-rises as threshold spaces If the designers create multiple connections with other levels situated below and above the public space, then social interactions are more likely to be enhanced. This is even more likely if the high-rise is linked to other high-rise buildings, or potentially other public spaces in other high-rise buildings. These connection requirements are similar to requirements for ground floor public spaces. In addition to appropriate spatial organisation of the space itself, multiple connections to other high-rises enable the openness and negotiation of space. Following on from this, for a public space that is more public, other levels of the high-rise can have contrasting statuses, between public and private space. As such, the design could resist the tendency of homogenisation and merging of public and private space in architecture discussed previously. This resistance requires tailored organisation of sequences of spaces with different statuses in the section of the high-rise. In the case of links with other high-rises, public space in the high-rise is the intersection of the vertical envelope of the building and the horizontal envelope of the public links between high-rises. In contrast with the most functional architecture or the most widespread high-rise architecture, these connected high-rises are singular. For example, the CMG Qianhai Global Trade Centre by Office for Metropolitan Architecture/Rem Koolhaas (OMA) is composed of two

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connected high-rise buildings. The connecting element, Skybridge, is a pub­ licly accessible space that is part of the privately owned Trade Centre. This project, designed in 2016, is currently under construction. The Trade Centre will be a mixed-use development, located within Qianhai’s Ma Wan neigh­ bourhood: The building complex will be a transit-oriented development inte­ grating two main roads and three metro lines that intersect, and a bus terminal. Qianhai’s urban ambition is to become a diverse and lively region with a wide selection of public functions, and a generous provision of green and public spaces … CMG Qianhai Global Trade centre has been conceived as a compressed urban development (a Micro-City) in which traditional boundaries between building and the urban context are challenged. It is at once a tower, a cluster, a neighbourhood and a city. (OMA 2016) The Skybridge is planned to be physically connected to the ground floor area: A three-dimensional trajectory will tie all public and private pro­ grammes together, allowing accessibility on all levels. The Skybridge will be the highest accessible element in this trajectory and the most prominent feature of the Trade Centre. It will include a public cultural platform and a viewing deck overseeing the city. Its flexibility will enable it to accommodate gardens, art installations, or events. (OMA 2016) The public space will be situated at the intersection of the three-dimensional trajectory and the two high-rises. OMA’s practice displays numerous singular architectures achieved by creating shortcuts and other types of connections between spaces, and complex topologies of envelopes. OMA has the skills and organisational character to create large dense urban hubs that interconnect multiple spaces and circulation. These large dense urban hubs are singular when the boundaries are not excessively blurred, and space does not become homogeneous. In the case of the CMG Qianhai Global Trade Centre, the relation of the high-rise with the social context, and the way the spatial organisation of the high-rise affects the collective body, will be observable after its construction. The open-air space on the roof of Rudy Ricciotti’s MUCEM (Museum of European and Mediterranean Civilisations), constructed in Marseille in 2013, can be considered as a public space because it is linked to the rest of the city through a suspended walkway at roof level. However, while MUCEM is relevant to this book for the singularity of its architecture, the

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accessibility of the roofscape is not sufficient for it to be fully considered as a public space because the roof is mainly occupied by MUCEM visitors, so that the space lacks the diversity of people to consider it a public space. We can imagine that, if the connection with the city centre was busier in the future, the roof would work fully as a public threshold space. The Threshold approach enables an assessment of the capability of a public space in a high-rise to really work. The Threshold approach turns what seems to be a challenge (to create a public space in a high-rise) into an opportunity. The aim to create public spaces in interiors that seem first disconnected from the open-air public space stimulates creativity. The threshold approach identifies situations where trying to create public spaces in interiors is doomed to fail.

Thresholds enhance public space In the cases above we have seen that threshold space enhances public space. This section describes why. Connection and separation Threshold spaces link and separate. Schwarte was influenced by Hannah Arendt’s philosophy of public space when he described “the transitory zone which contains the whole palette separating being-alone and beingtogether” (Schwarte 2019, 150). For Arendt, public space is the “in be­ tween that connects and separates”: To live together in the world means essentially that a world of things is between those who sit around it; the world, like every in between, relates and separates men at the same time. The public realm, as the common realm, gathers us together and yet prevents us from failing over each other, so to speak. What makes mass society so difficult to bear is not the number of people involved, or at least not primarily, but the fact that the world between them has lost its power to gather them together, to relate and to separate them. (Arendt 1958, 52) Arendt sees a type of action in this public life which differs from the action of labour and work. This type of action is “the condition …of all political life” as “the only activity that goes on directly between men without the intermediary of things or matter” (Arendt 1958, 7). She rejects the se­ paration of philosophy from politics, of theory from action, and adopts introversion and contemplation (vita contemplativa) as a way of life. Arendt displays contempt for an entirely private life, which she sees as unfulfilled and deprived of essential ingredients of human life (Arendt 1958, 58; Madanipour 2003, 145–146). Instead, she promotes an outward-

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looking, political and public life (vita activa), in which the public realm takes centre stage. However, through this idea that public space both connects and sepa­ rates, Arendt does not exclude the private moments of life when expressed in public space. Rejecting the passivity of pure observation does not mean living only in the space of action. There is an aspect of the Threshold in Arendt’s notion of public space. It is a space that facilitates co-presence and regulates interpersonal relationships. Public space can assemble or disperse, integrate or separate, invite or repel, open up or enclose (Gehl 2011, 81–128). Threshold spaces considered in this book are similar to Arendtian public spaces that allow this process of connecting and separating, in­ tegrating private uses that are not segregated from public space. This idea of public space as a link and separation translates in archi­ tecture and urban planning as socio-petal and socio-fugal spatial settings. The terms “socio-petal” and “socio-fugal” were coined by Humphrey Ostmond (1957) to describe arrangements that are expected to bring people together or set them apart. Socio-petal configurations orientate users to­ wards each other and encourage face-to-face communication, especially eye contact. Socio-fugal arrangements place people away from one another and discourage interactions (Ostmond 1957), thus promoting individual use within public spaces. Street furniture arrangements can encourage or dis­ courage interactions (Lesan 2015, 65). Threshold spaces are theoretically enhanced through coexisting socio-petal and socio-fugal spatial settings. Fostering action and observation Arendt’s philosophy of public space has a second important implication. As we saw the analysis of the public space of the Oslo Opera House and of the Palais-Royal, a vast spectrum of action and behaviour can be identified in public space as threshold. They range from more active behaviours, usually in the centre of public space, where visitors are busier interacting with people outside their personal sphere, to more passive behaviours, such as observa­ tion, from a more marginal point of public space. In the case of the Oslo Opera House, this acentric type of behaviour can be observed on the whole public space. In the case of the Palais-Royal at the time of the Revolution, this acentric behaviour is preponderant under the surrounding arcades when action occurs in the centre. Even if Arendt emphasises action, both action and observation coexist or follow one after the other. In the succession of action and observation, each enhances the other. The arcades around the Palais-Royal enhance public space, as a visitor feels easily welcome under the arcades, and can after­ wards choose to take part in the action taking place in the centre. Thus, thresholds of public spaces intensify public space—that is, enhance the public character of public space.

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This idea of the combination of action and observation translates in ar­ chitecture and urban planning as the theory of prospect and refuge. Threshold spaces function better if they combine prospect (linked to spot­ ting and preparation for action) and refuge (linked to observation). The “prospect and refuge” theory, proposed in 1975 by Jay Appleton, envisages that people prefer circumstances with extended vision and place themselves at the edge of spaces where they can protect their back, rather than places in the middle where they are unprotected. People usually prefer environments that provide shelter and cover compared to unshielded spaces (Appleton 1975). In addition, Christopher Alexander and his colleagues in A Pattern Language state; “Outdoors, people always try to find a spot where they can have their backs protected, looking out toward some larger opening, be­ yond the space immediately in front of them” (Alexander et al. 1977, 558). In 1970, William H. Whyte formed a research group, The Street Life Project, to look at Manhattan’s public squares. In their 1980 study The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces, the group analysed the occupation of 18 public squares in Manhattan. They observed that corners and edges are preferred places to stay or sit, as one has a good viewpoint of the space, without being in the middle of pedestrian circulation. Whyte concluded that people fill in spaces from the edges inward. The findings of a study of Project of Public Space suggest that people prefer to sit in spaces facing the pedestrian movement rather than with their backs turned to the flow (Carr et al. 1992). In terms of design, it means creating public spaces comprising an area from which pedestrian circulation can be observed, or expressed differently, “a good plaza starts on the street corner” (Whyte 1980, 54). The designer can install benches or ledges in these areas. This is a threshold effect. Marta Sitek argues that the “prospect and refuge” theory is still well supported today. The need to feel safe is still powerful and affects the way that we experience environments (Sitek 2011, 15). A team of landscape architects revisited Whyte’s theory in 2019, using artificial intelligence to observe Manhattan plazas and see how well his observations hold up. The team found that some of Whyte’s findings are no longer true. According to Anya Domlesky (ASLA, an associate at SWA), Whyte’s study values the idea of street theatre—men watching women— which is no longer domi­ nant. “People are in public space to be around other people, but not watching other people. The idea of street theatre is less important. This kind of information allows us to re-evaluate the dominant forms of new urban space” (Zeiger 2019). The behavioural phenomena of the threshold effect remain. Even when seating is evenly distributed across a plaza, people tend to gather along the edges until those areas are roughly half to twothirds full, before filling more central areas of the plaza. The “View Philia,” a seemingly universal love of views, even when they are difficult or some­ what unpleasant to get to (Guardian 2019), coexists with the threshold effect. “Being in action” and “Observing” still coexist today, in a culturally modified way (respect of others, especially in terms of gender).

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With the development of social media, connections between communities and the public sphere are enhanced in the virtual world. In the realm of public space, with the recent development of smart street furniture, including USB charging ports or other technological equipment, it is possible that virtual activity will infuse the activity of physical public space. Numerous related architectural experimentations are in progress, such as the accessorising of public benches and tables with power points and USB charging ports (Rahmat et al. 2020). These technologies influence social interaction, as people focused on their phones might be more likely to stay in connected areas, and thus engage in improvised conversations (Hampton et al. 2014). The case study of the Oslo Opera House shows that the concept of Threshold enhances public space as it combines socio-petal and socio-fugal spatial settings. The location of the threshold space in the city, next to a public building, provides prospect and refuge, and thus enhances the pub­ licness of the public space. Public space as threshold enhances the “publicness” of public space In summary, this discussion reveals some key principles of threshold spaces: • •

•

Public space requires friction, and as such, threshold spaces enhance the publicness of public space. Thresholds around open-air public spaces (that is, the margins of public space) foster moments of “observation” and “thinking.” Shifting from observation to more active participation in public space comes in due time. Thresholds in front of publicly accessible buildings enable a gradual approach to the inside of the building. Some people feel more welcome in the thresholds than if there are none, and subsequently feel more welcome in the building as they traverse the threshold.

These three implications of thresholds enhance the publicness of public space, and thus have a political impact. An open-air public space as threshold, where there are negotiations between the public and the private spheres, is very likely to work well. As such, thresholds are tools of re­ sistance against the disappearance of public space. This can seem para­ doxical since thresholds add an element of privacy.

Notes 1 The phrase “political economy” is preferred to the word “economy” in this book, as it embraces all the historical cultural and social backgrounds of the differences in revenue and ownership.

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2 The building belongs to Statsbygg, Norway’s largest civil property manager. The Norwegian Opera and Ballet is the building’s end user. 3 As it is slightly disconnected from the rest of the city’s occupied spaces, symbo­ lically and practically, this public space does not work as well as Oslo Opera House’s public space.

References Alexander, Christopher, Ishikawa, Sara, and Silverstein, Murray. A Pattern Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977. Appleton, Jay. The Experience of Landscape. London: John Wiley, 1975. Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1958. Carr, Steven, Francis, Mark, Rivlin, Leanne G., and Stone, Andrew. Public Space. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Corcoran, Steven. “Introduction.” In Rancière, Jacques. Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics. London New Delhi, New York, Sydney: Bloomsbury, 2010. 1–24. Dacheux, Eric. “Une nouvelle approche de l’espace public.” In Recherchesen Communication 28 (2007), 11–26. Davis, Mike. “Fortress LA.” In City of quartz: excavating the future in Los Angeles. London, New York: Verso, 1990. 221–264. Eliade, Mircea. The Sacred and the Profane – The Nature of Religion. Harvest: New York, 1959. Gehl, Jan. “To Assemble or Disperse: City and Site Planning.” In Life between Buildings: using public space. Washington DC: Island Press, 2011. Guardian 2019. “From Lizarding to Lingering: How We Really Behave in Public Spaces.” In Guardian (1 Aug 2019). 14 April 2021 www.theguardian.com/cities/ gallery/2019/aug/01/lizarding-and-flex-allure-how-do-you-use-your-city-plaza-inpictures-field-guide. Habermas, Jürgen. The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1989. Hampton, Keith N., Goulet, Lauren Sessions, and Albanesius, Garrett. “Change in the Social Life of Urban Public Spaces: the Rise of Mobile Phones and Women, and the Decline of Aloneness Over 30 Years.” In Urban Studies 52:8 (2014), 1489–1504. Leclercq, Els. A+BE | Architecture and the Built Environment 5—Privatisation of the production of public space. Delft: TU Delft (March 16, 2018). Lesan, Maryam. Public Streets for Multicultural Use—Exploring the Relationship Between Cultural Background, Built Environment, and Social Behaviour, Thesis. Wellington: Victoria University of Wellington, 2015. Low, Setha. On the Plaza: the Politics of Public Space and Culture. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2000. Madanipour, Ali. Public and Private Spaces of the City. London: Routledge, 2003. Mitchell, Don. The Right to the City: Social Justice and the Fight for Public Space. New York: The Guilford Press, 2003. Mumford, Lewis. The City in History: Its Origins, Its Transformation. New York: Harcourt Brace and World, 1961. OMA. “CMG Qianhai Global Trade Centre.” In OMA website. 2016. 14 April 2021 https://oma.eu/projects/cmg-qianhai-global-trade-center.

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Ostmond, Humphry. “Function as the Basis of Psychiatric Ward Design.” In Mental Hospitals 8 (1957), 23–30. Parakh, Jams, Safarik, Daniel, and Du, Peng. The Space Within: Skyspaces in Tall Buildings: An Output of the CTBUH Urban Habitat / Urban Design Committee. Chicago: Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitat, 2018. Rahmat, Homa, et al. The Role of Smart City Initiatives in Driving Partnerships: A Case Study of the Smart Social Spaces Project. Sydney: UNSW. 2020. 14 April 2021 10.1007/978–3–030–37635–2_9. Rancière, Jacques. “Ten theses on politics.” In Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics. London New Delhi, New York, Sydney: Bloomsbury, 2010. 27–44. Rancière, Jacques. La Mésentente—Politique et philosophie. Paris: Galilée, 1995. Rancière, Jacques. The Politics of Literature. Cambridge: Polity, 2011. Schutz, Alfred. Collected Papers I: The problem of social reality. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1962. Schwarte, Ludger. Philosophie de l’architecture. Paris: La découverte, 2019. Sennett, Richard. The Uses of Disorder: Personal Identity and City Life. London: Allen Lane The Penguin Press, 1971. Sitek, Marta. Meaningful Design in a Multicultural Community. A Case Study on Multi-Functional Urban Parks. Waterloo, Ontario, Canada: University of Waterloo Library online. 2011. 14 April 2021 https://uwspace.uwaterloo.ca/ handle/10012/6268. Snøhetta.”Oslo Opera House / Snøhetta.” In ArchDaily. 07 May 2008. 14 April 2021 www.ArchDaily.com/440/oslo-opera-house-snohetta. Whyte, William H. The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces. Washington, D.C.: Conservation Foundation, 1980. Zeiger, Mimi. “Live and learn.” In Landscape Architecture Magazine. 2019. 14 April 2021 https://landscapearchitecturemagazine.org/2019/02/12/live-and-learn/.

8

Thresholds around semi-private Pockets in public space

Pocket Spaces in public space1 This chapter is not about Threshold Architecture. It is about a type of threshold space that exists in public spaces, and refines the learnings from chapter 7. In this chapter, semi-private spaces are not enclosed but still architecturally defined. We can define a “Pocket” as an architecturally defined place of social interactions in public space, such as an “open urban room” where people linger If we look again at the example of the Yokohama Ferry Terminal, we can say that the open-air public space of the upper deck comprises Pockets that punctuate the whole length of the deck. Some Pockets are on the sloped grassland, some under small, shaded ca­ nopies. The sitting areas preferred by visitors are the steps created by the wooden contour lines of this artificial landscape. The Pocket’s spatial lo­ cation and characteristics (adjacent to the path and overviewing the land­ scape) are similar to those of the public space of the Oslo Opera House. With the Terminal behind and under them, visitors can look forward to the seascape and experience the roofscape as an extension of the Ferry Terminal. The Pockets are at the margin of the main walkway where people circulate, that is, they are the threshold spaces between walkway and the less accessible and less frequented area of the upper deck. Figure 8.1 shows the Victor Civita Square, designed by Levisky Arquitectos Associados with Anna Dietzsch and Davis Brody Bond, in São Paulo in 2008. The Square displays different areas of socialisation that can be used by small groups of people, along a central pathway and some lateral paths. The central pathway ensures that each area of socialisation is con­ nected to the rest of the park and to the main road (Levisky 2010). As a result, the Square is a pertinent example of vibrant Brazilian public space. With the purpose of rehabilitating an abandoned and contaminated area next to its building, the publisher Editora Abril approached the city of São Paulo, owner of the land, to develop a project for the public. A public–private partnership was created to rehabilitate the area, in which the city government gave up the use of the space, and the publisher took care of the execution of the project and maintenance of site and activities. The project’s core aim was DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-8

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Figure 8.1 Levisky Arquitectos Associados & Anna Dietzsch, Davis Brody Bond, Victor Civita Square, São Paulo, 2010. Photograph © Nelson Kon.

to educate people on sustainability and water treatment. Multiple social and sports activities are also held in this park. Areas of socialisation are scattered along the paths. Due to issues related to soil contamination and subsequent decontamination activities, the designers created a large suspended wooden deck with secondary paths for circulation and access to activities. The long central deck surface is punctuated by “urban rooms” that accommodate different public uses. One includes gym equip­ ment, one is a children’s playground, and another is a cobblestone plaza for chess and interactive games.2 These open areas are architecturally defined as the margins of the main public path. They have specific spatial configurations and specific public furniture, such as ledges that are integrated in the design of the Pocket Spaces. In the Victor Civita Square project, the thresholds as Pocket Spaces are distinct. These threshold spaces are organised by the de­ signers with specific architectural settings, applying the principles of prospect and refuge that usually occur naturally in public space. Thresholds around open-air places of debate According to Wood and Gilbert, To be relevant, a multiculturalism policy needs to be grounded in concrete spaces that not only recommend ways of acting and being, but

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Buildings of different functions offer a place where people can engage in debates and discussions and where alternative possibilities for political action can emerge. (Wood and Gilbert 2005, 685)

In open-air public space, a debate is usually organised in a framed setting, comprising seats and one or more locations for the main orators. Similar to a concert hall in terms of usage, the open-air place of debate is a semiprivate space. The difference between the place of debate and the concert hall is that the open-air place of debate has no architectural partitions. A series of examples are the MPavilions commissioned yearly inside the Queen Victoria Gardens in Melbourne by the Naomi Milgrom Foundation. Each year, the pavilion designed by an internationally distinguished archi­ tectural practice is used as a place of debate. For example, a debate was organised on 8 March 2020 by Right Angle in the MPavilion designed by Glenn Murcutt. The space around the place of debate was loose enough to be a threshold space. The peripheral threshold spaces enabled anyone who wanted to listenor participate in the debate to be present. Such open-air places of debate have a considerable role and impact on democratic life. A place of debate enhances public space in the moment, and enhances the public sphere through debate in the long term. Because of the importance of what happens in the thresholds of the de­ bate, the negotiation of presence and movement in public space is poten­ tially more important to community life than the oratorical skills of the people talking in the centre, who usually feel more comfortable than par­ ticipants in having their say. These comfortable speakers sometimes hinder communities’ opportunities for civic participation (Galanakis and Oikarinen-Jabai 2007). As threshold spaces in public space, these places of debate might alleviate that problem. Pocket Space for a community in public space Muf architecture/art, a London-based practice, designed a cricket ground on a portion of disused land in East Croydon, London. Muf base their project designs on concepts around the resolution of social conflicts. They primarily work for people in social minorities so that they can be present in, and use public space, interacting with other communities. Between 2012 and 2014, the land for the cricket ground project was temporarily available prior to redevelopment into Ruskin Square in 2018, a permanent public space also designed by muf (Fulcher 2012):3 The Refugee Cricket Project was a partnership between Cricket for Change and the Children’s Section of the Refugee Council. It provided a safe and supportive environment for young refugees, many of whom lived then in the Croydon area, to meet on a regular basis and enjoy

Thresholds around semi-private Pockets 119 cricket. Some of these budding cricketers go on to play at local and country club level, and others become trained as sports coaches with Cricket for Change. (Muf 2013, 37) Other non-refugee cricket teams also had access to the grounds. The ar­ chitecture of the cricket ground was composed of transparent wire cages. Although the wire separated the interior spaces from the rest of the exterior, disused areas, players remained totally visible, thus still connected visually to the nearby office buildings and East Croydon station. As anyone from the neighbourhood could come and watch the cricket game and engage with the teams, this Pocket Space had the role of a social threshold. According to Liza Fior, muf’s Principal in charge of the project, there was a consensus around cricket as a game, as it attracted people from the housing units and passers-by on the way to the station. “Corporate developers from the site could imagine themselves playing cricket in Croydon.” It functioned as a “rarefied communal space” (Fior 2021); that is, not a polished per­ manent public space (such as the final Ruskin Square project), but a lowcost temporary public space project. It only functioned a few times a week during practice and games. During cricket activity, the architectural layout effectively played the role of a threshold between communities. Muf’s projects are often temporary and last between disuse or demolition of an older project and the start of the “official” planning for a new, longerterm real estate project. It is regrettable that the Refugee Cricket Project was temporary; however, the succession of various projects that muf has created have had a long-term impact on the local social fabric. Muf and other firms with similar aims are inspiring a plethora of socially engaged contemporary architectural practices worldwide. This also creates impact.4 The architectural expression of these thresholds between local minorities and the public sphere reveal key aspects of the contemporary social and political context of high immigration to Europe and the United Kingdom. Pocket Spaces enhancing the publicness of public space The Pocket Spaces identified in the Victor Civita Square example and in muf’s project enhance public space by fostering the negotiation of space. This idea of negotiation of space can be illustrated by a common facility, skateparks, that numerous city councils have installed in their public space. Even though skateboarding is typically associated with a certain level of skill and fitness, skateparks and their immediate surroundings are accessible to the public. Further, other than local “norms” underlying the dynamics of groups, there are no rules that significantly restrict the public character of skateparks. This confers a high social potential on skateparks (Borden 2015b). According to Iain Borden, “architects are doing more and more to engage people with spaces” (Borden 2015a), and the benefits to the community are becoming

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tangible. Skateparks exemplify the way users negotiate their presence in an array of different platforms and areas. The small platforms of the skatepark are Pocket Spaces. Also, the space around the skatepark, where friends, family members, and anyone from the public can observe the skaters and engage in a conversation, are threshold spaces between the semi-private skating area and public space. The lesson from the negotiation of presence and movement of people among the platforms of the skatepark is that creating dispersed Pocket Spaces in public space is an efficient way to initiate and develop nego­ tiation of space. Instead of providing just one Pocket Space, providing three or more enhances the negotiation of space and thus the publicness of public space. In 2009, muf worked with J&L Gibbons LLP and Simon Cash (Appleyard DWB) for the project Making Space in Dalston (their clients were the London Borough of Hackney and Design for London/ LDA). The aim was to make the regeneration process of Dalston Square beneficial for the community. The team generated “strategies, design moves and a programme of cultural activity to enhance the public realm as shared spaces for both residents and visitors” (Gibbons and muf 2009). The team created an array of Pocket Spaces that infused the urban fabric. The main Pocket Space, developed since 2010, is Dalston Eastern Curve Garden, an array of garden beds, pavilions, and a stage. The Garden is open daily throughout the year, with night-time opening most evenings. It offers a year-round education, cultural and community events programme with a particular focus on working with children, young people, and vulnerable adults. All of this is achieved by a small team of staff, freelance artist educators, and a core team of volunteers. This programme is fi­ nanced with income generated from the small on-site café (the Kiosk). The wooden structure of the Kiosk, clay oven and Pavilion, is situated at the entrance of the site. This wooden structure is visible from a triangular open-air public space on busy Dalston Lane, and functions as a threshold between the public space and the garden. Liza Fior, partner at muf, explains how she composed layouts based on a concept of Threshold she calls “Adjacent Spaces, that extend buildings” (Fior 2021). The garden gets many visitors from the nearby semi-private spaces including the Arcola theatre, the V22 artist studio and its attached creche, and in the future, from a building that should replace a garage. Existing cultural activities and their buildings are considered “as something dynamic that can influence the garden.” The garden “extends” the build­ ings, and in reverse, the garden fosters social interactions. For Fior, adjacent spaces are best designed as “fuzzy edges,” like the wooden structure and the garden. Looking at the Making Space in Dalston projects at the scale of the city shows that muf has created a network of buildings and threshold spaces. Independently of muf’s interventions, the dynamics of Making Space in Dalston should continue to grow and evolve in the future.

Thresholds around semi-private Pockets 121

Threshold space around domestic-related amenities Dalston Eastern Curve Garden exemplifies the way in which using equip­ ment that normally belongs to the domestic sphere in public space creates a possible pathway for improving public space for communities (Galanakis 2013, 67–89). Amenities set in public space have a private usage in the sense that individuals or groups can use them to the temporary exclusion of others. Private usage of public space, as domestication of the public sphere, occurs around benches and tables, entertainment and play areas, and so on. Cooking and eating spaces An example of a publicly shared amenity is the public barbecue available at many city beaches and parks. These are popular amenities in the Australian cultural context. They can provide opportunities for families that lack private space and facilities. These amenities enable social interactions with passers-by and other groups using adjacent barbecues. The typical public barbecue occupies a small area of the public space, so that public space maintains its necessary characteristics of spatial looseness, spatial openness, and functional openness. The example of the public barbecue can be generalised to all types of cooking amenities in public space. In 2012 in the disused area in East Croydon discussed in the section above (prior to the redevelopment of Ruskin Square): muf facilitated the Lunch Club, a weekly lunch in the garden, aimed primarily at local office workers, and providing a sociable place to come and enjoy a break in the garden, somewhere quiet to read a book, throw a ball or sit at a table and share a piece of cake … The setting out, occupying and tidying away of a large dining table in the garden ‘room’ was also a weekly performance as seen from East Croydon station. (Muf 2013, 39) Cooking and sharing a meal are an easy medium for socialisation that transcends language barriers and generational differences. On the same site, muf facilitated a community banquet, Festival of Toil, in 2017. The aim of the Festival was to question and discuss the primary materials and produc­ tion process of our everyday objects; in this case objects linked to basic needs of cooking and eating. The community produced bellows and a furnace to smelt aluminium waste from the building site to make cutlery which was subsequently polished on pedal-powered grinders. Clay was extracted from soil dug from the site to make drinking vessels and an oven to cook bread. It was an art performance that made handcraft manufacturing visible. The Festival and another project, Debate, commissioned by patrons Stanhope and Schroders, refer to John Ruskin, the nineteenth-century artist, critic, and

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social entrepreneur, who lived in Croydon and who lends his name to the place. These projects explored questions linked to craftsmanship and pro­ duction raised by Ruskin. Ruskin believed in the value of communal endeavour and artisan labour as a model of social and cultural equity. The cutlery, crockery and food for the dinner were produced working with local social enterprises and with a team of local young care leavers. (Muf 2017) The community banquet becomes an art performance that questions and reveals social issues linked with modes of production of tools and food. Other domestic-related Pocket Spaces in public space The cooking amenity example can be generalised to other types of amenities that are commonly present in the domestic sphere, from washing to sleeping amenities. The experience of privacy as it relates to these types of amenities, comprises domestic-related activities that are usually undertaken in the interior of a dwelling. The amenities bear differing potential for social in­ teractions. They intertwine public and private spheres, and thus express aspects of the links between public and private space in society. Numerous historical examples exist of domestic-related amenities shared in public space. The public baths of ancient Greece and ancient Rome, Turkish baths from the Ottoman Empire, the Gellert Baths in Budapest operating since the fifteenth century, and the public baths in Paris, were all public spaces, and at the same time places of private use. In the late eighteenth century, the City of Bath’s waters were described by Sigfried Giedion as a place of so­ cialisation between people of different social status, albeit restricted to one gender (Giedion 1961, 147). We can expand the type of domestic-related “spaces of privacy around an amenity in public space” that can exist beyond kitchen spaces to include: •

•

Washing-room-related facilities, like showers or baths. This type of public amenity provides utility to people who want to use washingroom-related services during the day away from home, such as after cycling to work, or at the end of a work day before heading elsewhere. Respect for privacy is sensitive, and therefore, washing-room-related amenities need to be designed considering boundaries of privacy. There are numerous examples from the past, such as the Paris public baths. Bedroom-related facilities, like a bed. Bedroom-related amenities are useful for people in need of a space to spend the night or for people who wish to have a short rest (in train stations, for example). In this case, respect for privacy is particularly sensitive; hence beds need to be designed considering boundaries of privacy. Social interactions in these

Thresholds around semi-private Pockets 123 thresholds around amenities mostly occur before and after sleep. The connection with busy public space improves the safety for users that must usually stay in isolated places. For example, the city of Ulm in Germany has developed capsules for homeless people, named Ulmer Nests (Bootschaft Widerstand und Sőhne, and Geiselhart 2021). The potential for these amenities to enhance public space differs depending on the type of amenity (Kimmel and Tietz 2020). A bed, since it is used for sleep, enhances public space less than a shower, where people are more active, and both of these types of amenities do not enhance public space as much as cooking and eating facilities, due to their potential for social interaction. Thresholds for people in need of housing support An amenity in a public space can add social value to an area (Gieryn 2000, 465), its urban setting, and the people who use it. David Engwicht is an urban planner who focuses on adding symbolic value to public space to gain a social benefit (Engwicht 1999 and 2015). One of his projects is entitled The throne: he installed a decorated throne in the middle of a Los Angeles carpark where homeless people come to sleep at night. People could wear a crown and a sceptre and be photographed by Engwicht. The smile on the face of a woman that has been photographed by him shows the moment of happiness that she experienced through this action that reverses hierarchies and valorises people who are usually undervalued (Engwicht 2015). While Engwicht’s project uses humour to make its point, it is based on the same symbolic value that applies to amenities. For example, in 2013, a toilet block was renovated in a “funky” way by Engwicht and the community of Nelson in New Zealand. The precise social value of an amenity in public space depends on its context and its successful integration within the existing urban fabric. Added social value can be especially pronounced in disadvantaged contexts. In the context of growing inequality, amenities can be a valuable resource for people in need of housing support, providing the homeless with help for everyday life. Public amenities located in public space avoid overt social segregation or stigmatisation for those in need. People in need, not usually visible in public space, can avail themselves of the amenities not only to support their daily needs but to create opportunities to be present and engage in public space via the anchor of these domestic-related amenities. Political implications of sharing amenities in public space The economic dimension of sharing a valuable amenity in public space has political implications. Threshold spaces around amenities transgress the usual hierarchy of access to available amenities according to economic and social status. According to Jacques Rancière, this is a characteristic

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manifestation of politics. In Disagreement, Rancière identified the begin­ ning of social emancipation with the reforms led by Solon (Athens, 594 BC) that conferred citizenship through the abolition of debts. Democracy, and thus politics, emerges with the “eruption” of “the poor” into a world controlled by (and for) the wealthy. Before the reforms led by Solon and Cleisthenes, the aristocratic order of things was based on the symbolic dignity of a class, as related to their economic status. Now as then, “poli­ tics” arises when this identification between symbolic and economic power is interrupted—when a power is instituted that cannot be linked to the power of elders, founders, the wealthy and the knowledgeable (Rancière 1999, 74). According to Rancière, it is the gap between symbolic power and economic power (the assertion of different hierarchies) that creates a rup­ ture. This rupture creates a public “scene,” where new modes of citizenship are introduced, governing the relations between rulers and those being ruled, and thus a change concerning symbolic identities (Rancière 1999, 36). The gap (the rupture with previous hierarchies) creates politics. These historic situations are echoed still today. In the case of amenities in public space, a shift is created in the social hierarchy, as people of lower economic demographics gain access to highly valuable amenities (such as barbecues) that they do not have at home. Access to these in the public domain confers symbolic power. Politics arises through the gap between symbolic and economic order that is revealed by enlarged social participation in public space. In this sense, the ideas around symbolic value developed in the work of Engwicht exemplify the significant political potential of amenities that can be used by anyone in public space. The concept of publicly shared, domestic-related amenities addresses the needs of contemporary Western societies faced with a range of social challenges, from those linked to historically entrenched relationships be­ tween the public and private realms, to those associated with current urban density levels. In relation to these needs, threshold spaces around amenities offer significant economic, symbolic, aesthetic, and ethical value to our urban communities. Threshold spaces around domestic-related amenities can be a catalyst for changes “at the margins,” from the margins of public space and/or the margins of society. There are, of course, limits to the potential for architecture and design to tackle social marginalisation and exclusion (Madanipour 2010, 113), and architecture is mostly powerless in tackling extreme social violence.

Notes 1 This part builds on a previous publication by the author and Christian Tietz (Kimmel and Tietz 2020). 2 Pocket Spaces enabling conversations, entertainment and play are very useful to improve social interactions. Although “entertainment” is frequently linked to commercial interests, this book considers entertainment facilities that are free of

Thresholds around semi-private Pockets 125 charge, aligning the type of threshold space around an amenity considered ac­ cording to the principles of public space. 3 The Refugee Cricket Project was part of a £500 million regeneration project led by Foster and Partners, who were however side-lined on the East Croydon scheme in 2012, one year after winning outline planning for the regeneration (Fulcher 2012). 4 An example is the practice of Elisa Silva, founder and principal of Enlace Arquitectura and Enlace Foundation, based in Caracas, Venezuela.

References Bootschaft Widerstand und Sőhne, and Geiselhart, Florian. Ulmer Nest. 2021. 14 April 2021 www.ulmernest.de. Borden, Iain. “An Interview with Professor Iain Borden on the ‘Long Live Southbank’ Campaign and Skatepark Design from the 1970s to the Present.” In Fakie Hill Bomb. 2015a. 14 April 2021 https://fakiehillbomb.wordpress.com/ 2015/07/22/an-interview-with-professor-iain-borden-on-the-long-live-southbankcampaign-and-skatepark-design-from-the-1970s-to-the-present. Borden, Iain. “The New Skate City: How Skateboarders Are Joining the Urban Mainstream.” In The Guardian. 2015b. 14 April 2021 www.theguardian.com/ cities/2015/apr/20/skate-city-skateboarders-developers-bans-defensive-architecture. Engwicht, David. “Add Some Magic to a Public Space Near You.” In TED. 2015. 14 April 2021 www.youtube.com/watch?v=USmTQeKRaP4. Engwicht, David. Street Reclaiming: Creating Liveable Streets and Vibrant Communities. Sydney: Pluto Press, 1999. Fior, Lisa. Conversation with the author, 11 February 2021. Fulcher, Merlin. “In Pictures: Muf Unwraps Croydon Cricket Interim Use.” In Architect’s Journal. 2012. 14 April 2021 www.architectsjournal.co.uk/archive/ in-pictures-muf-unwraps-croydon-cricket-interim-use. Galanakis, Michail. “Intercultural Public Spaces in Multicultural Toronto.” In Canadian Journal of Urban Research 22:1, Special Issue: Diversity and Public Space in Canadian Cities (Summer 2013), 67–89. Galanakis, Michael and Oikarinen-Jabai, Helena . “Embodied Diversity : Let Me Show You My Shadow.” In International Journal of Diversity in Organisations, Communities and Nations 5: 7 ( 2007), 63–68. Gibbons, J. & L LLP, muf architecture/art. “Making Space in Dalston.” In Issu (July 2009). https://issuu.com/mufarchitectureartllp/docs/making_space_big. Giedion, Sigfried. Space, Time and Architecture. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1961. Gieryn, Thomas F. “A Space for Place in Sociology.” In Annual Review of Sociology 26 (2000), 463–496. Kimmel, Laurence, and Tietz, Christian. “Publicly Shared Domestic-Related Amenities: Pockets Of Privacy Enhancing Public Space.” In Spatium 43 (2020), 8–15. Levisky, Adriana B. “Praça Victor Civita.” In Levisky Arquitectos Associados website. 2010. 14 April 2021 https://leviskyarquitetos.com.br/praca-victor-civitamuseu-aberto-sustentabilidade/. Madanipour, Ali., “Marginal Public Spaces In European Cities.” In Madanipour, Ali, ed. Whose Public Space? London, New York: Routledge, 2010.

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Muf. “Ruskin Square art strategy.” In muf website. 2017. 14 April 2021 http:// muf.co.uk/portfolio/ruskin-square-art-strategy/. Muf. “Ruskin Square Garden.” In Issu. 2013. 14 April 2021 https://issuu.com/ mufarchitectureartllp/docs/ruskinsquaregarden. Rancière, Jacques. Disagreement: Politics and Philosophy. Minneapolis, London: University of Minnesota Press, 1999. Wood, Patricia K. and Gilbert, Liette. “Multiculturalism in Canada: Accidental Discourse, Alternative Vision, Urban Practice.” In International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 29.3 (September 2005). 679–692.

Part III

Constraints to the existence of thresholds and proposals of resistance strategies In public space, the social context is expressed through its rules and norms, behaviours and beliefs. When one aspect becomes predominant, the playful interrelations between the expression of these different aspects of the social context decreases or ceases. This part of the book focuses on contemporary trends that restrict or halt the architectural expression of the dialectics of society. We will focus on the limiting effects of these constraints in archi­ tecture and present some resistance strategies.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-103

9

Thresholds in the context of security strategies1

Safety and security are major considerations in the contemporary world. Control of access through architecture is one of the most important con­ straints on social life. Predominant guidelines that regulate public space are often related to security. Human control or security devices, such as CCTV, can be used to increase security. As, in public space, the public as a Collective should auto-regulate in respect of common rules of society (Rancière 2010). However, controls exerted by the presence of a security guard or CCTV monitoring exert a constraint which usurps autoregulation. Control is, in some cases, useful; however, the generalisation of surveillance has disadvantages that also come with these benefits. When the expression of rules becomes predominant or excessive in public space, ex­ pression of behaviours can be restricted to a certain range of behaviours. In the worst-case scenario, some behaviours are forbidden, even if they re­ present no threat to the public. As noted above, I like to consider whether it is possible to stop and chat with friends, or even have a picnic in a space to assess how controlled it is. You can, for any public space, perform the test of imagining both these situations to make a preliminary assessment of the publicness of the space. Architecturally, the simplistic solution to stopping unwanted people en­ tering a building or plot is to enclose it and control access with doors or gates. The existence of a threshold space is inconsistent with this simple control strategy. Another strategy can be more subtle: leaving free access but provide visible or invisible human control—security personnel—to filter the en­ trance. Guards surveying the entrance can have an intimidating effect on the public. So even if the building itself expresses democratic values, the sur­ veillance strategy through security guards may erase the benefits of threshold spaces for the experience of the public and lower its publicness. In the case of this strategy, threshold spaces make surveillance easier than when there is an absence of threshold, as there is a larger buffer zone that can be observed ahead of people accessing the interior semi-private space. Thresholds can then have a negative impact on the publicness of the building. This shows that threshold spaces have an ambiguous impact DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-9

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(linked to their ambiguous status). The security use of thresholds detracts from the positive benefits of thresholds for public space. We can make a distinction between small, common security issues and counter-terrorism strategies. In the case of serious security issues and high terrorism threats, stakeholders developing the building, architects, and urban planners have a legitimate reason to use threshold spaces to ensure security in and around a building, while keeping its openness to pedestrians. Can the public itself maintain security in threshold spaces through pas­ sive surveillance, as it naturally does in open public space? Yes, for common security issues, and potentially (and rarely) for terrorism issues. The relative delimitation of the threshold enables closer control coming from the public itself, which is a positive for safety against small common security issues. However, this positive impact of security derived from the public itself has limits. The public cannot be expected to take care of a potential ter­ rorist attack threat, as the expectation creates too high a level of collective anxiety. Counterterrorism strategies cannot rely on public control. In the event of a terrorist attack using a Hostile Vehicle, architecture and urban planning are key to minimising harm.

The architectural impact on thresholds from protection against Hostile Vehicles Across the globe, public sensitivity to the threat of terrorism has increased substantially since the terrorist attacks in the United States on 11 September 2001 (9/11). The potential for aggressive security strategies to become the norm in public building design in the United Kingdom and the United States is real. In both these jurisdictions (countries sharing similar levels of in­ frastructure, and similar built environment landscapes), attack by Hostile Vehicle is the main threat considered in the architectural guidelines seeking to reduce the direct impact on people and infrastructure. Architecture has a decisive role in the mitigation of this threat (as opposed to other threats such as rifles and chemical weapons). Among the forms of terrorism as­ sessed by security agencies as likely threats, the threat of a Hostile Vehicle (with or without an attendant explosive) has significant implications on threshold design. “Stand-off distance” is the main defensive principle for vehicles in current counterterrorism guidelines (Homeland Security 2011). Stand-off distance, usually using bollards, creates a first layer of defence. When social and ar­ chitectural principles are secondary to security for developers and operators, this stand-off distance principle can be a key determinant of the design. Enclosing, ranging from “fencing” around the building to “traditional target hardening” the building’s facade, is a defensive strategy that focuses predominantly on denying access to a target through exclusion. Its most elementary form consists of enclosing secures public domains via physical barrier techniques such as bollards and security walls. Typically, however,

Thresholds and security strategies 131 the implementation of this design strategy requires significant stand-off distances between entrance points and the building, facades constructed of hardened materials, with the building’s core interior protected by a secure perimeter (Nadel 2002). For many years, enclosing has proved to be a common strategy for de­ signers complying with the United States counterterrorism guidelines, no­ tably in the safeguarding of schools and college campuses (Division of School Support North Carolina 2008). Henry A. Giroux analyses a post9/11 “militarisation” of public high schools in the US (Giroux 2004). While implementing an enclosing strategy offers a very direct (and efficient) en­ hancement of safety, in design terms it poses significant challenges for en­ abling physical and symbolic openness. Enclosing as “fortressing” becomes an evident problem for public buildings that are very unlikely to be im­ pacted by terrorism—due to their low symbolic value, for example. Enclosing as fortressing does not enable openness of public buildings and thresholds. David Omand warns against the desire to entirely eliminate risk through strategies like fortressing in the urban settings: “The public should be invited to accept that there is no absolute security and chasing after it does more harm than good” (Omand 2013). The problem is the general­ isation of excessive security measures in the city. In the US, Mike Davis criticised responses to perceived urban disorder and decay that favour “fortress cities.” Predicting the car bomb becoming the ultimate weapon of crime and terror, Davis envisaged urban authorities responding with fortress-style rings of steel. Davis identified the implementation of fortres­ sing in public spaces in the US in the 1970s as strikingly antagonistic to civic openness: “the designers of malls and pseudo-public space attack the crowd by homogenising it. They set up architectural and semiotic barriers to filter out ‘undesirables.’ They enclose the mass that remains, directing its circu­ lation with behaviourist ferocity” (Davis 1990, 257). According to Davis, the architecture of Los Angeles bears the signs of fortressing as a form of semiotic violence: “the neo-military syntax of contemporary architecture insinuates violence and conjures imaginary dangers … Indeed, the totali­ tarian semiotics of ramparts and battlements, reflective glass and elevated pathways, rebukes any affinity or sympathy between different architectural or human orders” (Davis 1990, 231). Balancing security and openness by creating thresholds This study of UK and USA guidelines for counterterrorism strategies for public buildings assesses the possibility of designing architectural thresholds to balance security and openness. For public buildings, the guidelines form a set of principles superimposed on existing urban safety regulations, in­ cluding building codes, and so on, designed to ensure risks and appropriate countermeasures. While the building code in each jurisdiction stipulates a range of enforceable measures to minimise safety risks depending on the

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type of building and the number of people using it, the advisory principles in related counterterrorism guidelines are also framed in relation to a building’s vulnerability, including its symbolic value. The symbolic value of a building is high if the building is recognised as historical, iconic, religious, cultural, or political and has a significant social importance for the nation, state, or territory (termed cultural symbolic value). The tension from ensuring symbolic buildings are both secure and open is particularly acute in the case of culturally symbolic public buildings. It is in those buildings that are culturally significant and intended for public access and amenity, that security considerations most directly compete with the objectives of an open urban environment. Table 9.1 displays different symbolic values of buildings in a general context common to the UK and USA. Habermas reminds us that the “openness” of civic life is central to a healthy democracy. This idea of openness extends beyond the notion of accessibility. Central to this notion is a building designer’s creative role in interpreting and translating contemporary perspectives on civic openness. Maintaining a central role for architectural creativity in the design of public buildings is crucial for architecture’s continued efficacy as a mirror to our democratic pursuit of civic openness. Habermas and Benjamin both offer a salutary warning to architects: purely functional approaches to the design of public buildings come at a significant cultural loss. Vigilance is required to ensure that responses to terrorism threats value, rather than monopolise, design considerations. Davis’s description of the result of excessive security measures in public space in the 1980s Los Angeles provides further caution: one observes an unprecedented tendency to merge urban design, architecture and the police apparatus into a single, comprehensive security effort. This epochal coalescence has far-reaching consequences for the social relations of the built environment. … The universal and ineluctable consequence of this crusade to secure the city is the destruc­ tion of accessible public space. (Davis 1990) The design of buildings intended for public access must account for public safety; yet it must also provide a place that is welcoming. Publicly accessible buildings need to account for, and nurture, the behavioural (physical and psychological) needs of the public, from the design qualities of the building itself (the manipulation of space, form, materiality) through to its insertion within the greater built environment, thus enabling thresholds. Adopting a binary “attack versus defence” strategy (relying solely on the prominent use of bollards and security walls, for instance) has counterproductive beha­ vioural impacts, both in terms of openness (creating an unwelcoming or threatening environment, for example) and security (such as rendering emergency service access more difficult).

Table 9.1 Publicly accessible buildings and their symbolic value.

Thresholds and security strategies 133

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Various design requirements in a security context Nuanced approaches to designing public buildings in the context of con­ temporary security threats require relevant designers, clients, and experts’ input throughout the design process. It is more cost-effective to “design-in” protective security measures from the outset of a scheme. By engaging all interested actors in the project, this process can ensure measures work to­ gether and do not displace vulnerabilities in another area (HM Government 2018). As Randall I. Atlas notes, in the US context: architects worry about the fortress mentality of security professionals, whereas security professionals are concerned about the architects’ failure to include security elements into the design of the building from the ground up. The conflict is not over whether to include security equipment in the building design but, rather, the conflict lies between a building’s openness, on the one hand, and control of access to it, on the other. (Atlas 2008) The challenge of implementing appropriate design responses under existing safety regulations is a complex negotiation of often incongruous security interests relating to access and control. Typically, the priority for fire and emergency services is to evacuate people from a building and to gain rapid and unimpeded access. In contrast, the priority for the police is typically to seal off a building and tightly control access. Hostile Vehicle Mitigation (HVM) strategy threatens to unbalance the control/access equation in favour of control: while bollards at the entrance of a building, for example, may assist the police, they are just as likely to impair the ability of fire and emergency services to access the building. Assessing the appropriateness of HVM responses with respect to openness and security considerations inevitably defers to existing national terrorism threat levels.2 The lower the threat level, it may be suggested, the weaker the rationale for implementing HVM responses that privilege security over openness. The relative ease with which public buildings (and public spaces) can be enclosed makes the strategy an attractive option. Public buildings, however, have an advantage over public spaces in this regard: architecture itself can be enlisted in the service of HVM. If designed well, architecture has the potential to achieve greater openness by rendering (otherwise overt) signs of security inconspicuous. The strategies used in architecture for HVM can be adaptable to thresholds. Security strategies enabling Thresholds It is comparatively easy to see that the strategy of fortressing is clearly in­ compatible with the architecture of threshold spaces. However, it is more complicated to assess the compatibility of more sophisticated security

Thresholds and security strategies 135 layering strategies that are sometimes used to protect public space and public buildings from Hostile Vehicles. Figure 9.1 shows the entrance of the Chau Chak Wing Museum in Sydney. In this example of bollard design, although one of the best in Sydney, we can see that the application of anti-terrorist directives creates constraints in terms of daily accessibility. Above all, the bollards, although disguised as public furniture, constantly remind us that there is a risk, al­ though this risk is statistically extremely low today. This entrance space, which could have been truly public, is symbolically privatized. Figure 9.1 shows three layers of defence (Homeland Security 2011) for the Chau Chak Wing Museum and a synthesis of layered security strategy. The first layer of defence comprises barriers (commonly at a property line or sidewalk/curb line). In the HVM context in front of a building, this first layer usually takes the form of permanent or removable bollards. The second layer of defence extends from the perimeter of the site to the exterior face of a building, and includes the basic elements of architecture, such as walls and doors, that are themselves part of the security systems for buildings (American Institute of Architects (AIA) and Demkin 2004). The third layer of defence commonly comprises the building’s interior, and se­ parates unsecured from secured areas. Security is organised via a “funnel effect” that maintains an open profile while sequentially enhancing security: a non-overt first layer of defence (building exterior) leading to an open second layer of defence (building threshold) leading to a graduated (unrestricted–restricted) third layer of defence (building interior). Strategies of layering, also known as “security in depth,” consider a building’s security both in its proximate context and in its internal layout. As a more nuanced security strategy than the defensive “shield” of en­ closing, layering aligns more naturally with objectives of openness. In the

Figure 9.1 Johnson Pilton Walker (JPW), Entrance of the Chau Chak Wing Museum, Sydney, 2020, and diagram synthesizing Counter-Terrorism Layered Security. Photograph and diagram by author. Photograph: author.

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UK, particular attention is paid to urban design principles that “maintain sustainable and attractive environments which people want to use,” pro­ moting openness (HM Government 2014). More recently, the UK’s CONTEST strategy emphasises urban and architectural quality, especially through the method of “designing in” security (HM Government 2018), and RIBA guidelines provide additional guidance on the risk assessment methodology for the architectural profession. The diagram in Figure 9.1 illustrates unrestricted access for pedestrians through the second layer. Unrestricted access through the second layer is enabled because the first layer acts primarily as an HVM strategy. Of course, designs for the first layer could be more creative than just bollards and could incorporate appropriate landscaping design. A threshold can exist anywhere outside the third layer. It is possible to tailor a layered se­ curity strategy and at the same time still enable openness of the building and its thresholds. In culturally symbolic buildings it is important to secure the crowded place in front of the building, inside layer 1. Again, bollards are not the only solution, and landscaping is a very efficient way to develop a strategy without overt signs of security. The Oslo Opera House, the YFT, and the Centre Pompidou provide some examples of this. In conclusion, the challenges presented by terrorism carry weighty im­ plications for the openness of our public buildings and our public spaces. In each case, our capacity to maintain open built environments in the face of counter-terrorism security agendas rests on a concomitant consideration of both openness and security throughout the design process. It is usually possible to implement nuanced design approaches within the context of counter-terrorism guidelines. What is required is an integrated approach, involving the collaboration of design and security stakeholders throughout the design process, informed by past experiences. There are methods to maintain the architectural expression of a society, especially through the architecture of the thresholds between interior and exterior, while dealing with safety and security concerns.

Notes 1 This part builds on a previous publication by the author (Kimmel et al. 2020). 2 In the UK, the current threat level for international terrorism is Severe on the following scale: Low/ Moderate/ Substantial/ Severe/ Critical (MI5 website no date). In the US, the current threat level is between Elevated and Severe depending on the location, on the following scale: Low/ Guarded (general risk)/ Elevated (sig­ nificant risk)/ High/ Severe (Homeland Security Advisory Website no date).

References Atlas, Randall I. 21st Century Security and CPTED: Designing for Critical Infrastructure Protection and Crime Prevention. Milton Park: Taylor & Francis, 2008.

Thresholds and security strategies 137 American Institute of Architects (AIA) and Demkin, Joseph A. Security Planning and Design: A Guide for Architects and Building Design. New Jersey: John Wiley and Sons, 2004. Davis, Mike. City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles. New York: Verso, 1990. Division of School Support North Carolina. Design of Schools to Prevent Violent Attack. Raleigh, NC: Division of School Support North Carolina, 2008. Giroux, Henry A. “War on Terror.” In Third Text 18:4 (2004), 211–221. HM Government. Contest — The United Kingdom Strategy for Counter Terrorism. London: HM Government, 2018. HM Government. Protecting Crowded Places: Design and Technical Issues. London: HM Government, 2014. Homeland Security. FEMA 426 Buildings and Infrastructure Protection Series: Reference Manual to Mitigate Potential Terrorist Attacks Against Buildings. Washington, DC: Homeland Security, 2011. Homeland Security. Homeland Security Advisory Website. no date. 14 April 2021 < www.dhs.gov/publication/national>. Kimmel, Laurence, Barnard, Mike, and Kuru, Aysu. “Open to The Public”: Keeping Interiors Publicly Accessible in the Context of Counter-Terrorism Guidelines.” In Archnet-IJAR 14:2 (2020), 251–266. MI5. MI5 Website. no date. 14 April 2021 www.mi5.gov.uk/. Nadel, Barbara. A. Building Security: Handbook for Architectural Planning and Design. New York City: McGraw-Hill Professional, 2002. Omand, David. Securing the State: A Question of Balance. London: Chatham House, 2013. Rancière, Jacques. “Ten Theses on Politics.” In Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics. London New Delhi, New York, Sydney: Bloomsbury, 2010. 27–44.

10 Thresholds in the context of excessive morality or denial of social practices1

Contemporary society encourages individualism and the desire for the pro­ tection of persons in private space. One well-known study on the subject that does not relate to public buildings, is Richard Sennett’s research on in­ habitation spaces. Exploring the dialectics between public and private spaces in the city, he has pointed out the ways in which a capitalist society reinforces one’s desire for protection behind the sealed boundaries of private places (Sennett 1992). Sennett has shown how intense and ever-changing social transformations have created a collection of enclosed family units, or a dis­ parate and conflictual collection of individuals on the urban scale. The city becomes a mosaic of secluded individuals or micro-communities, where public life and public space, and thus politics, tend to disappear. The primacy of certain beliefs can also disrupt the dialectics of public space. Excessive morality concerning private life is one aspect that created the “split” between the public and private sphere, mentioned in the beginning of this book. The split affects public space as one of the predominant norms of the political economy. The split was created by behaviours and beliefs, then sub­ sequently impacted in return on those behaviours and beliefs, which continue to the present day. The desire for control linked to excessive morality leads to the partitioning of spaces and thus the segregation of people and practices. This chapter tackles two cases of excessive segregation. The first focuses on excessive morality regarding sexual practices, then makes re­ commendations to limit the split’s expression as segregation between public and private space. The second focuses on spaces of death. For both cases, the chapter presents contemporary architecture as strategies for resistance against concealment tendencies.

Acknowledgement of sexual practices through threshold spaces Sex life and the city It is generally understood that public life should not be totally mixed with intimate life. A respect for basic ethical requirements is, of course, required DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-10

Denial of social practices 139 for urban life. However, in some cases, an excess of morality and associated taboos have a negative effect on urban life, with consequences for the spatial organisation of architecture and cities. These consequences can be considered as symptoms that can be studied in a critical way. For example, the presence, location, and layout of sex clubs in cities are signs of how a city handles the sex life of a part of its population. Sex clubs are usually accessible by anyone from the public (with some age and gender restric­ tions), are spaces of sexual practices, and thus relate to the private sphere. In this context, they are Thresholds. The sex clubs considered here are venues for the public where citizens can engage in consensual sex, rather than sex businesses such as brothels and massage parlours. They are spaces that enable sexual encounters that in­ corporate all kinds of sexual practices. The assumption here is that these spaces are not as disconnected from the civic culture as they first seem, and are in fact an aspect of civil behaviour. Such spaces take part in the ex­ pression of the politics of the society and the city, stripped of the ordained aspects of daily civic life. It is argued that the architecture of sex clubs takes part in the expression of the politics of the society regarding sexual prac­ tices. The expression and visibility of architecture of sexual practices in the city is thus relevant to our knowledge of the society and the city. Political dialectics can be expressed in the architecture of a place, that is, its politics. For example, a former Sydney gay club, Ken’s at Kensington, operated on the fringe of the civic centre. This space was stripped from notions of class, political affiliation, and wealth usually exhibited in social life. Ken’s at Kensington functioned as an entertainment and social venue, as well as providing the opportunity for casual sex. In Ancient Greece, the social aspects of sexuality took place in public space or were connected in other ways to the public realm. As such, there was no split between the public and private sexual realms. Sexual practices in the public sphere were not always as repressed as they were during Benjamin’s time, as we can see in “Haschisch in Marseille” (Benjamin 1991IV). The casual attitude to sexuality in public presented in Ancient Greece needs to be mentioned here as a stark comparison to the sexuality of contemporary civic spaces. To understand this difference, we may look to Ancient Greek litera­ ture and mythology, since literary authors are also diagnosticians of society. For example, myths concerning the underworld showcase how the Ancient Greek writers or storytellers considered what is rational or civic and what is irrational or desirous. These myths explain the functioning of the Ancient Greek afterlife and the river Styx, which in mythology is described as a black underground river that forms the boundary between Earth and the Underworld (Hades) (Ovid 1916; Hesiod 2009, 775 ff). In some places, the Styx connects to the surface and in some it is deep in the bowels of hell. If we consider that the river is a metaphor for the daily rational part of public life and the intimate aspects of sexuality, then we may conclude that the sexual was an accepted part of the world. Philosophical thought about rationality

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and irrationality in this is more nuanced than embedded in opposition. According to Adorno and Horkheimer, for the rational world to exist, the irrational world must be linked and intertwined with it (Adorno and Horkheimer 2007). One might say that the world needs its Stygian part to enable a person to think philosophically. In the same way, the Stygian part of the city is necessary for the functioning of the whole. Everyday public prac­ tices need to coexist in the city along with sexual practices. The sex club can then be considered the expression of the dark part of the city. Due to the split between the private sphere and collective sphere, sexual aspects of life primarily shifted to the private realm. Following the split between the public and the private realm in the Western world at the commencement of the Modern period, as described by Gilbert Simondon, collective public spaces of sexual practices, such as sex clubs, have faced difficulties finding a stable, balanced, and accepted presence within cities. According to Adorno, this dynamic is in part created and emphasised by Christian introversion (Adorno 1997, 219). Unlike the interaction between the upper world and the underworld in Ancient Greece accessed via the black river Styx, which can be associated with well-functioning sexuality (Mauron 1963), places of sexual practices today remain mostly within a disconnected underground. When the dialectics of sexual practices in re­ lation to the public sphere can no longer be addressed because of moralism, asceticism, or what Adorno calls “ascetic authoritarianism” (Adorno 1997, 371), an explicit expression of real sexuality and sensuality in the city disappears. However, for Adorno, instead of disappearing, sexuality returns and paradoxically becomes “even more palpable through its concealment” (Adorno 1997, 371). Such an account resonates with Michel Foucault’s “repressive hypothesis” (Foucault 1998). Examples might include the “se­ cret societies” that spring directly out of Christian fixations with sexual practices. Hellfire clubs met in secret from the mid-to-late eighteenth cen­ tury and were concerned with carnal pleasures and sexuality. Sir Francis Dashwood’s Order of the Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe merges Enlightenment thought, experimentalism, and sexual liberation (Lord 2008). This seemingly open sexuality is in fact not its expression at the scale of the city. It is worth noting that this isolation from public space comes with some potential risks to the persons involved. Inhibited, conventional, and aggressive–reactionary individuals tend to prefer the absolute inward­ ness of places of sex clubs. For Adorno, inwardness is an anti-psychologism and “intolerance to ambiguity”; impatience with what is ambivalent and not strictly definable (Adorno 1997, 158). Adorno defends a dialectic of interiority against extreme inwardness as extreme abstraction from outside, from nature and its pleasures, and against the inwardness of sentimental popular culture. He casts a reconciling light on an inwardness that parti­ cipates in dialectics.

Denial of social practices 141 Stygian aspects of civic life In line with the Ancient Greek mythology of the Styx, I call a space “Stygian” when it is part of a balanced politics of emotional social life, in a society where such balance is possible. A Stygian sex club is part of the dialectics of public and private spheres (and its architecture is an expression of the politics of sexuality). Firstly, a Stygian sex club is not a sex business and does not have a commercial expression towards the outside. That is, sex is not the commodity being bought and sold, and the architecture is not merely a billboard for commercial exchange. Secondly, to be considered “Stygian,” the club cannot be totally remote from public space. Dialectical or Stygian sex clubs are thus closely linked with the “upper world”; they are publicly accessible spaces rather than totally remote private places. A par­ ticular Stygian sex club is iconic if the social and political interactions are key to the politics of sexuality of the particular city. There are specific architectural implications for Stygian sex clubs. In addition to the architecture not merely acting as advertisement, according to the writings of Benjamin there is a high chance that the spatial char­ acteristics are “singular.” The sex club does not directly relate to the business district or the entertainment district. In its spatial layout, the club is not totally remote from public space. It surfaces like a wayward branch of the river Styx, in surprising ways. The layout of Ken’s at Kensington was not exceptional for its archi­ tectural qualities; however, some spaces functioned as thresholds (Kimmel 2019). Ken’s at Kensington had three levels connected through several stairways. The entry-level was on the upper floor. It comprised an entrance and facilities for washing, lockers, gym, massage, TV, smoking and reading, and a DJ area with lounges and glory holes. The level below was accessible through two sets of stairs, and contained a swimming pool, jacuzzi, cu­ bicles, steam room, showers, dark room, a porn theatre, and a swimming pool, around which shows were occasionally performed. The swimming pool was notorious for having a Perspex ceiling, so that people above at the entrance could see people bathing below. The coexistence of areas for social interaction and discussion with areas of play and sexual intercourse clearly distinguishes Ken’s from commercial sex premises. With the freedom to engage with “the other” in different ways, persons constantly negotiated their place and occupation in space. Even the Perspex ceiling might have been interpreted as part of the transparency of public politics, creating a symbolic link between persons and contributing to the theatrical occupa­ tion of space. Through these characteristics, and especially the threshold constituted by the entrance and the swimming pool below, Ken’s club in Sydney ignited civic dialectics by providing a Stygian element in the civic. One contemporary equivalent of Ken’s, in terms of its importance in the city, is the Berghain nightclub in Berlin, which includes a dark room. Access

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to the Berghain is too restricted to be considered public. The spirit of the Stygian is guarded behind a controlled entrance, perhaps because the ex­ istence of a real Stygian sex club as a sign of balanced politics in a city is challenging. The contemporary architecture of a sex club that is connected to the city needs to find an appropriate location, threshold strategy, and a cultural context to express the politics of the city.

Threshold between public space and death-related practices Cultural contexts and relation to death There are taboos in most societies surrounding ideas around death. Therefore, the presence and visibility of architectures devoted to the deceased are sen­ sitive. According to architect Tatiana Bilbao, “Death is represented in several ways according to different cultures around the world, and all of them share a deep respect, doubt, grief and fear around it” (Bilbao 2013). This section presents three contexts where funerals are part of social life: Aboriginal cul­ ture, ancient Greece, and contemporary Mexico. The Walumba Elders Centre in Warmun, in addition to the other func­ tions described in Chapter 6, can host funerary or “Sorry Business” (IPH architects 2015). The Centre’s layout comprises private spaces for residents, and spaces that welcome relatives and friends for mourning ceremonies. The architects, IPH, created a contemporary setting that enables the cere­ monies to take place. These ceremonial spaces are threshold spaces in continuity with public space. In Warmun, Sorry Business is organised ac­ cording to ancestral Aboriginal traditions and part of social life. Although Christian culture and beliefs have been imposed on Aboriginal commu­ nities, the funerary ceremony in this remote community has survived co­ lonisation. The ceremony involves the whole community and is not secluded in the private sphere of the family. Funerals in Ancient Greece were also plainly a part of social life, that is, its Stygian part. The ancient Greek conception of the afterlife and the ceremonies associated with burial were already well established by the sixth century BC. We know about these ceremonies through mythology. “In the Odyssey, Homer describes the Underworld, deep beneath the earth, where Hades reigned over countless drifting crowds of shadowy figures, i.e. the shades of all those who had died” (Department of Greek and Roman Art 2003). In the Odyssey, Homer describes the transitions of Hercules between the house of Hades and the upper world (Homer 2009a, 11: 489–91). Book 23 of the Iliad starts with the ceremonials around the funeral of Achille’s companion Patroclus (Homer 2009b, 23: 0–71). A proper burial was a necessity, and the Iliad refers to the omission of burial rites as an insult to human dignity. Relatives of the deceased, primarily women, conducted the elaborate burial rituals that were customarily in three parts:

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The first part of the ceremony was the preparation of the body. Women oversaw preparing the body, which was washed, anointed, and adorned with a wreath. This first phase, conducted in the habitation, had the symbolic meaning of the threshold between the living and the dead, as initiates might be furnished with a gold tablet, sometimes placed on the lips or otherwise positioned with the body, which offered instructions for navigating the afterlife and addressing the rulers of the underworld, Hades and Persephone (Toohey 2010, 363). The second part of the ceremony was the laying out of the body for viewing and mourning, on the second day. This part, called prothesis, may have previously been an outdoor ceremony, but a law later passed by Solon decreed that the ceremony take place indoors (Johnston 2010, 40). The laying out of the body took place at the threshold between public space and inhabitation space. The third part is the ekphora or funeral procession, which took place before dawn on the third day. The body or cremated remains of the deceased were carried to their resting place (Toohey 2010, 364). The funeral procession took place in public space.

These three parts of the ceremony intertwined public space and habitation space, enabling the expression of the funerary process in public. Sigmund Freud explains that one of our main fears is the fear of the presence or return of a dead person’s ghost. This fear leads to a large variety of ceremonies across different societies aimed at keeping the ghost at a distance or driving them off. This fear led to a taboo. A taboo is seen as something dangerous and having dire consequences, yet further investiga­ tion reveals that no one knows why. At one point, the taboo had meaning but the meaning has since been lost. It has been so for such a long time that its original significance is no longer traceable (Freud 1918, 20–39). When taboos are less managed by a society through rituals and cere­ monies, as in Western society, death tends to be denied. The Austrian psychoanalyst Otto Rank made the topic of death denial the central theme of his 1930 book Psychology and the Soul. According to Rank, unconscious forces prevent individuals from thinking about death. Society has created mechanisms, forms of cultural adaptation, that are meant to keep people from becoming conscious of their creaturely (animal) nature and, therefore, their mortality. Everything about us that might implicate creatureliness and mortality is covered by a cultural “shield” (Rank 2003). For some thinkers, the word taboo is not appropriate anymore to consider the denial of death in contemporary Western societies (Walter 1991, 293–310). “Death is not taboo; we are just not encouraged to talk about it” (Troyer 2014) and we are just not encouraged to see its expression in public space. Western so­ ciety is considered a death-denying culture that does not like to think about, talk about, or acknowledge death as an inevitable reality. Denial is a strong defence mechanism (Bauer-Maglin and Perry 2010; Chapple 2010). Denial

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of death leads to concealment of the places of the dead. On the opposite, an excessive death consciousness, when society lives with a permanent con­ sciousness of death, creates a mortiferous society. Expression of death in Mexican culture According to different authors’ viewpoints, the Mexican culture of death is either considered balanced or mortiferous. According to Tatiana Bilbao, in Mexico, death has overcome most of the fear surrounding it to become “a major social event” (Bilbao 2013). Many Mexican traditions, as they relate to funeral services, are an amalgamation of Mayan, Aztec, and Catholic beliefs. Mexicans tend to have a deep, religious view of death, with a re­ laxed acceptance of it. In Death and the Idea of Mexico, anthropologist Claudio Lomnitz describes the social, cultural, and political history of death in Mexico. Unlike contemporary Europeans and Americans, whose denial of death permeates their cultures, the Mexican people display and cultivate a jovial familiarity with death. This intimacy with death has become the cornerstone of Mexico’s national identity. The idea of the importance of death imagery is all-pervasive in art, literature, and history. Mexican peo­ ple’s fearless acquaintance with death shapes the very terms of its social contract (Lomnitz 2008). On 2 November each year, this tradition inter­ twines private life and public space at an institutional level during Mexico’s annual Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). Día de los Muertos is a celebration that includes skeleton decorations, dancing, and music. Celebrations enjoy popular participation and exemplify the deep belief in an afterlife, easing the grief that comes after a loss. In Mexican culture, like Ancient Greece, the intertwining of the private and public sphere happens during funeral services. It is more common to share feelings of grief with the community than to grieve privately and Mexican funerals mix celebration and grief. Death is seen as the start of a new journey rather than the end of a single journey. Usually, after death, a vigil is held by family and relatives for 24–48 hours. The family or relatives may serve food during the wake, in a separate room. Guests will pray and bring the family gifts. There may even be games, like dominoes. Visitors are encouraged to spend time in both spaces. This way, they can offer their condolences and join the family in prayer, as well as celebrate the life of the deceased. The wake is loud and social rather than a sombre affair. Children take part and listen to stories about their deceased family member. Traditionally, many families hold the wake in their own homes. In recent times, we can see families holding a wake in a funeral parlour. Threshold spaces in a funeral parlour Funeraria Tangassi, is a funeral parlour designed in 2011 by Tatiana Bilbao Estudio, a Mexico City-based architecture practice founded in 2004. Places

Denial of social practices 145 like Funeraria Tangassi represent an alternative to the home and the in­ stitution of the church. They can be considered as thresholds in a pro­ grammatic sense. The architecture is characterised by its multiple thresholds between public space and semi-private spaces for the family and acquain­ tances. The parlour is situated in the city of San Luis Potosí, Mexico, at a crossroad between two major avenues at the boundary between a re­ sidential area and an industrial area. The architecture is enclosed on both sides by peripheral brick fences. The building is public, however does not bear the obvious signs of a typical welcoming and open public building. Despite this, one encounters other families and their acquaintances in and around the building. The open spaces inside the brick fence have a public feel. Instead of receiving relatives and acquaintances in the private space of their habitation, a family can receive them in a public building whose spatial organisation and architecture are designed to host the appropriate ceremonies and rituals. The thresholds manage transitions between spaces for moments of intimacy and spaces for community interaction. Tatiana Bilbao Estudio’s aim is to integrate “social values, collaboration, and sensitive design approaches to architectural work.” At the core of the studio´s practice is an analysis of the context surrounding projects. A goal of the work is to both contribute to its surroundings while remaining flexible to absorb shifting needs. The architects pursue architecture through multidisciplinary perspectives … collaborations with other architects, artists, economists and local governments, to enrich the impact and reach of each project. (Bilbao 2021) For Funeraria Tangassi, Bilbao integrated the cultural context to the design. According to Bilbao, amongst all types of existing buildings, a funeral parlour is one of the most difficult to build for an architect due to its profound symbolic weight. Starting this project thinking of death as its main theme, made the concept of the project and the definition of the space to be determined by ideas such as limits, transitions, permanence and temporality, and how these lead to the idea of life ending. The response was a set of thresholds. “The spaces are combined with transitory spaces” (Bilbao 2013). The thresholds are visible in plan (see Figure 10.1). We started designing the chapel of rest, knowing that it must create an atmosphere of peace, calm and serenity; it should be an intimate place where people may stay, show their grievances. At the same time, this

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Figure 10.1 Tatiana Bilbao, Underground and ground level plans of Funeraria Tangassi, Mexico, 2011. © Tatiana Bilbao.

space should work as a place for social gatherings, where sometimes the deceased goes to a second term. To achieve this objective, we tried to separate the social areas of the chapel from the rest, and we sought to integrate the gardens as an extension of the chapel. The public area at street level also “connects the central patio and the five chapels with the administrative spaces like offices, coffee shop, flower shop, nurseries, restrooms and information areas” (Bilbao 2013). The most private areas are in the basement where the most intimate functions take place. The whole building has two main functions; to prepare the bodies for their final homage and to house the social ritual dedicated to the death of a loved one. For these reasons, the functions are divided in two stories; a basement, which has all the services to prepare the deceased bodies for their final destiny, and a public area at street level. (Bilbao 2013)

Denial of social practices 147 In general, the spatial layout of funeral parlours is more public than a ty­ pical home. Even when the design achieves a sense of intimacy through thresholds, this sense of intimacy remains slightly impersonal. The ritual is carried out in the more public space. The main loss from using a funeral parlour for ritual relative to ceremonies carried out at home is a dis­ connection from the neighbourhood community. The spatial qualities of Funeraria Tangassi nevertheless achieve a remarkable coexistence of spaces of different status that can host the complexity of the ritual. A city that does not deny intimate practices This chapter considers two main types of spaces for intimate practices, sexual life and funeral practices, and their different modes of connection with public life. In both types of spaces, concealment in the private sphere removes aspects of life and death from public life, and seclusion removes these practices from communities. The connection of these intimate practice spaces with public life through thresholds enables a public life that does not deny aspects of life and death. The examples of threshold organisation of these spaces show the possibility for a lively and balanced city. Their existence in the city is the sign of tol­ erance and absence of denial. Their existence or nonexistence enables as­ sessment of the politics of intimate spaces in the city.

Note 1 This part builds on a previous publication by the author (Kimmel 2019).

References Adorno, Theodor W. Aesthetic Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997. Adorno, Theodor W., and Horkheimer, Max. Dialectic of Enlightenment. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2007. Bauer-Maglin, Nan, and Perry, Donna, eds. Final Acts: Death, Dying, and the Choices We Make. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2010. Benjamin, Walter. “Haschisch in Marseille.” In Gesammelte Schriften IV. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1991IV. 409–416. Bilbao, Tatiana. “Funeraria Tangassi.” In ArchDaily, 2013. 14 April 2021 < www.ArchDaily.com/358066/funeraria-tangassi-tatiana-bilbao>. Bilbao, Tatiana. Tatiana Bilbao Estudio website. 2021. 14 April 2021 https:// tatianabilbao.com/about. Chapple, Helen Stanton. No Place for Dying: Hospitals and the Ideology of Rescue. Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press, 2010. Department of Greek and Roman Art. “Death, Burial, and the Afterlife in Ancient Greece.” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, October 2003. 14 April 2021 www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/dbag/hd_dbag.htm.

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Freud, Sigmund. Totem and Taboo. London: George Routledge & Sons, 1919. Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality. London: Penguin, 1998. Hesiod. Theogony. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Homer. “Iliad.” In The Internet Classics Archive. MIT, 2009b. 14 April 2021 http://classics.mit.edu/Homer/iliad.html. Homer. “Odyssey.” In The Internet Classics Archive. MIT, 2009a. 14 April 2021 http://classics.mit.edu/Homer/odyssey.html. IPH architects. “Walumba Elders Centre.” In ArchDaily. 29 Apr 2015. 14 April 2021 www.ArchDaily.com/625274/walumba-elders-centre-iredale-pedersen-hook-archi­ tects. Johnston, Sarah I. “Restless Dead: Encounters Between the Living and the Dead in Ancient Greece.” In The Oxford Encyclopaedia of Ancient Greece and Rome 1. Oxford University Press, 2010. 40. Kimmel, Laurence. “Stygian Dark: What the Presence and Architecture of Sex Clubs Reveal About the Politics of Public and Private Space in a City.” In Spaces of Desires. London: Routledge, 2019. 121–131. Lomnitz, Claudio. Death and the Idea of Mexico. Princeton: Zone Books, 2008. Lord, Evelyn. The Hell-Fire Clubs: Sex, Satanism and Secret Societies. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008. Mauron, Charles. Introduction to the Psychoanalysis of Mallarmé. Berkeley: Univ. California Press, 1963. Ovid. Metamorphoses. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1916. Rank, Otto. Psychology and the Soul. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003. Sennett, Richard. The Conscience of the Eye: The Design and Social Life of Cities. New York, NY: Norton, 1992. Toohey, Peter. “Death and Burial in the Ancient World.” In The Oxford Encyclopaedia of Ancient Greece and Rome 1. Oxford University Press, 2010. 363–364. Troyer, John. “Death Isn’t Taboo, We’re Just Not Encouraged to Talk About It.” In The Conversation. 2014. 14 April 2021 https://theconversation.com/death-isnttaboo-were-just-not-encouraged-to-talk-about-it-25001. Walter, Tony. “Modern Death: Taboo or Not Taboo?” In Sociology 25:2 (May 1991), 293–310.

11 Thresholds in the context of homogenisation of space

Excessive freedom of movement disrupts the dialectics of civic life. The subject of excessive freedom is analysed less in academic literature and is less an object of scrutiny than the excess of constraint, since freedom is a core value of democratic societies. Nevertheless, freedom, as defined in democracies, is accompanied by a set of duties and rules that enable it. Some principles of privacy, access, and visibility in the organisation of ar­ chitecture and urban planning differ between spaces, from the most public spaces to the most private. This defines different levels of freedom of movement and behaviour. Excessive individual freedom of movement means free access to all spaces and the erasure of symbolic differences be­ tween spaces. With excessive freedom, spaces tend to become homo­ geneous, which can affect society at large and be expressed and visible in the architectural characteristics of cities. This chapter develops a critique of excessive homogenisation between public and private space. Concomitantly to the critique of segregation from Chapter 10, this chapter develops a critique of the merging of public and private spheres that leads to homogenisation of society. It discusses two different architectural design tools. The first two parts tackle excessive freedom of movement in space induced by the inappropriate use of com­ putational design tools. The last part covers the freedom of movement in space enabled by “atmospheric” architectural materials, that is, light, heat, humidity, and chemical additives affecting senses other than vision. The tendency towards homogenisation of space needs to be critically analysed keeping in mind the social, cultural, and aesthetic benefits of free movement and the visibility of people. A certain fluidity between public and private space has been gained in the Late Modern period. For example, the Art Nouveau style represents a key aesthetic moment when the limits between interior and exterior were blurred. According to Beatriz Colomina, “mod­ ernity” is the publicity of the private. Modern architecture renegotiates the traditional relationship between public and private in a way that profoundly alters the experience of space. In her book Privacy and Publicity, Colomina tracks this shift through the modern incarnations of the archive, the city, fashion, war, sexuality, advertising, the window, and the museum, finally DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-11

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concentrating on the domestic interior that constructs the modern subject (Colomina 1994). Two iconic architectural features of free movement and transparency are the Corbusian Plan Libre and the glass curtain. Some architectures benefit free movement and visibility; however, ac­ cording to Richard Sennett, the lack of dialectics between public and private spaces results in neutral, sterile, and homogeneous living environments. Like Sennett, Setha Low, Dana Taplin and Suzanne Scheld also note increasing segregation in the urban fabric, and at the same time, paradoxically, the in­ creasing homogenisation of society and of the statuses of spaces (Low et al. 2006). In reaction to segregation, the opposite “natural remedy” is the era­ sure of boundaries, which leads to homogenisation. Both segregation and homogenisation coexist in the Late Modern period, and these contradictions tend to be exacerbated in the contemporary era. Manadipour’s analysis is even more pessimistic than Sennett’s, as for him, “both these systems end up in the erosion of local social systems of signification, in dismantling real communities in the name of creating them” (Madanipour 2003, 130). When balanced dialectics are no longer in play in the city, due to excessive con­ straints or excessive homogeneity, we lose the possibility of a lively and ba­ lanced city. Excessive freedom, like an excess of constraints, means that society loses the dialectics that enable politics to convene.

Computational design tools: challenges and advantages for Thresholds1 Computational design (CD) is the main contemporary tool facilitating design based on data management. It enables architects to create spaces based on data and parameters from the architectural programme and the context. The focus is on networks and processes instead of designed objects. Due to the impact of CD on the architectural field, it is important for architects to en­ gage with critical thinking about its advantages and challenges. This chapter develops a critique of mainstream computationally designed architecture that lacks structure of spaces, and therefore, lacks a structure of thresholds. We must accept contemporary changes brought by new technologies2 and new relations between public and private, but excessive erasure of boundaries can be pathological for the functioning of society. The first difficulty for users of CD is the challenge of creating nonhomogeneous spaces. The use of CD to generate an architecture in relation to its physical context can often lead to a continuity with the context. In some poor examples of computationally designed architecture, the design is thus completely immersed in its physical context and lacks critical posi­ tioning. For example, the global style of Schumacher (Zaha Hadid Architects) tends to create continuous artificial landscapes in which the architecture and its surroundings are generated by the same parameters. A great many designers are influenced by some of Zaha Hadid’s and Patrik Schumacher’s Blob Architectures and some of them do not master

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structuration of architectural space. When design responds exclusively to needs in terms of continuous flow of circulation of people, spaces are not structured for any other function, especially not subtle differences of sta­ tuses of spaces. In design based on data and flow management, there are no thresholds and no real spaces. The status of space in these cases tends to be homogeneous. CD, if used improperly, creates homogeneous space. Gerard Reinmuth and Andrew Benjamin consider that parametricism only allows for differentiation on the level of appearance, in that differentiation only occurs within a field that maintains the presence of an overall organisational logic. Form may change but what informs it remains the same, such that the difference is only registered as ‘variety.’ … Any distinction between public and private vanishes. (Reinmuth and Benjamin 2020, 102) As a consequence, when computationally designed architectures lack sin­ gular structuring at the level of interiority/exteriority, status, and use, they also lack social and political resonance. The second difficulty for users of CD is the challenge of creating singular topologies that have social and political relevance. The main reason for the difficulty is that these tools are hard to master (in comparison with manual drawing) and require great technical capability before a user is able to re­ present the nuances of the architectural project in a controlled way. Because of the unprecedented level of complexity that is possible with CD, the outcome, in terms of geometric structure of space, can end up un­ decipherable. According to Antoine Picon, the move towards “blob” ar­ chitecture has only intensified this problem. We lose the “tectonics,” thus the capacity to structure space, with the shift from the age of information (use of data and parameters) to the age of the digital; that is, the creation and direct manipulation of blobs in the 1990s (Picon 2010, 9–10). In order to overcome the difficulties posed by the complexity of CD, a critical positioning of the building towards its context should not be achieved through simple discontinuity from the physical context, or through simple counterpoint from the context. Through their radical au­ tonomy from the spatial and temporal context, some computationally de­ signed forms are extremely disconnected from their context. Computational design in critical practice According to Picon, CD tends to erase critical thinking; however, he imagines (and has identified in his research) optimistic aspects of the development of the use of CD in critical practice: There are dangers present in digitally produced architecture with the temptation to focus on the satisfaction of the senses and the fulfilment

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Constraints to the existence of thresholds of programs dictated by global capitalism without ever questioning their limitations. This allegedly realistic attitude, sometimes characterised as post-critical, has led many designers to relinquish political consciousness in order to fully embrace the conditions of their time. But can architecture live only in the present, oblivious of the past and indifferent to the promises of a different future? Can design survive deprived of memory and without the ambition to make the world a truly different place? The most pressing challenge awaiting digital architecture perhaps has to do with the need to overcome this attitude. The extended implications of sustainability already forces designers to think of political and social terms again. Perhaps the time has come to reinvent memory and utopia, these forsaken architectural ideals … In a world dominated by capitalism, the only way for architecture to escape the role of legitimisation that was assigned to it by the ruling powers was to be reflexive and critical. (Picon 2010, 14, 47)

Following this need for a critical practice of CD, architects are challenged to identify and follow “resisting” strategies, including strategies that avoid homogenisation. Some challenges of CD can be turned into benefits. Not only does the ability to manage a multiplicity of parameters and data make CD instrumentally suited to the abstract operations of late capitalism, but this ability can also be a benefit for critical political positioning. As CD enables the design of complex architectural shapes, it also has the potential to create topologies that relate to complex social and political contexts, including critical positioning towards capitalism. Architects can programme the CD system so that the extremes of homogeneity and segregation will be avoided. The system is able to tackle the dialectics of public space through a complex set of data and parameters. The way data about status, function, and usage of spaces can be considered in the system enables a wide range of experimentation. When used critically in a subtle site-specific approach, CD can become a tool to redefine or re­ invent partitions between public and private spaces. By choosing suitable data, parameters, and algorithms, the concept of singularity can be ex­ plored in an unprecedented way. Using only data and parameters in a CD system to generate architectural shapes in a critical way requires a complex system. In the future, this complex system may be achieved via artificial intelligence. AI needs to be further de­ veloped and made available to designers to maintain critical thinking so that the whole calculation process leads to appropriately critical final design.

Computational design and thresholds in the critical practice of artist Jean-Luc Moulène Jean-Luc Moulène’s research on space and collective meaning in sculpture is driven by links with dialectics of the social (and technological) context.

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Moulène’s artistic practice addresses different aspects of the concept of Threshold. According to Alain Badiou (2019, 26), Moulène’s artworks are “on the side of philosophy” and as such prompt thought, especially about the collective unconscious. An aesthetic experience of Moulène’s artworks leads to moments of (political) awareness. Benjamin might have agreed with Badiou and have identified moments of Shock or “awakening” in Moulène’s art. This may be a reason why Moulène’s artworks are inspiring for the study of architecture. There is a meta-level in Moulène’s artwork that makes us think critically about the concept of Threshold. There are similarities between Moulène’s artistic practice and common architectural practice: Moulène insists that no work of art exists “without conditions and constraints … without material, economic, historic, and bodily conditions” (SculptureCenter 2019). This attention to these contextual conditions is like the attention to context and the programme in architecture. Moulène considers “the program as an artwork” (Coll. 2016, 47), thus suggesting that his artworks result from these contextual constraints and potential that can be modelled through dialectics (Moulène 2020). Some of Moulène’s most recent sculptures are created with CD tools. Moulène’s aim is to ensure his artworks retain their singular artistic qua­ lities and dialectics, even though it can challenging to do so using CD tools. Moulène has a critical view of tools that presently fascinate people. The “fields of forces” considered (data, parameters and/or algorithms) used in creating artworks with CD can be broader and more complex than human brains can sometimes comprehend. Jean-Luc Moulène’s sculptural process The main transformation processes used by Moulène are Intersection and Disjunction, which are two results of topological intertwining (Figure 11.1). The Intersection is the common part of two elements. The Disjunction is the union of two elements minus the intersection. To make these transforma­ tions, Moulène uses cuts (removal of matter) and assemblage. Both cuts and assemblage are used by Moulène in a dialectic way. These transformations give Moulène’s sculptures a fundamental spatial meaning. In Moulène’s work, the cut has two contradictory meanings. The first meaning is familiar to Occidental scientific discourse since the Late Modern period. Moulène calls it “Bertillonage” from police analyst Alphonse Bertillon. This is a symbolically violent type of rationalist cut, through images, objects, or bodies, that has been used in science, photography, and so on to analyse those images, objects and bodies. Through the use of the dialectic meaning of the cut, Moulène criticises the Bertillon-type cut in his work. Moulène creates a new aesthetics of the cut by reversing the Bertillon cut. The operations of Disjunction and Intersection are efficient ways to do this. This second meaning of the cut is more critical and positive. For

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Figure 11.1 Five artworks by Jean-Luc Moulène, and diagram of Moulène's main modes of assemblage of elements. From left to right, top to bottom: • Blown Knot 4 21 (Rubyemerald) ‐ varia 01, Marseille, July 2012. Glass, 29 cm x 23 x 17 cm. Produced and fabricated at Centre International de Recherche sur le Verre et les Arts Plastiques (CIRVA), Marseille. • Model for Sharing, Paris, December 2007. Wood, glue, oil paint, and silver paint. circa 110 x 60 x 50 cm. on table 180 x 100 x 70 cm. • Model for Diving, Paris, August 2007. Oil paint on cardboard. w: 70 cm, l: 63 cm, h: 42 cm. on table 110 x 65 x 65 cm. • Bi‐face, Paris, 2016. Painted hard foam, 165 x 480 x 174 cm. 3D Design: Romain Guillet. Fabrication: Créaform, Vierzon, France. • More or Less Bone (Formal Topological Optimization) Paris‐NY, 2018-19, fiberglass and epoxy paint, almost 8,5 x 4,5 x 1,6 m. Engineering: GDTech Europe, Benoit Gicquel, Michael Bruyneel, Sebastien Gohy, Chiara Grappasonni, Ismael Juhoor. Fabricators: CNC Digital Atelier (Mercerville, NJ), Fiberglass Seal (Long Island). • Diagram: Moulène’s main modes of assemblage of elements: Laterality, Disjunction, Intersection. The “Merging” symbol is set as a comparison. Source: author.

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Moulène, cuts provide “points of entry into the pieces” (Coll. 2016, 99, 151); that is, ways to experience the internal space of the object. Sophie Duplaix comments on the transformation of assemblage, in re­ lation to architectural processes: The connection of Moulène’s work to architecture—as construction and making processes—invites us to decipher certain properties of his objects. Moulène’s objects, in fact, explore different modalities of concrete interaction between heterogeneous elements … thus, with different gradations, these objects explore the question of the binding agent, of what lies upon and between elements, what holds them together, and what holds them up. (Coll. 2016, 16–17) Like the cut, the assemblage through binding or intertwining is used dia­ lectically. Moulène’s plastic language is not only dialectic through its use of the cut and assemblage, but is fundamentally dialectic as it is situated between structured language and poetry. For Moulène, On one side, there is the complete and total formalisation of mathe­ matics, ontology, and pure form; and on the other side, there is poetry, which uses the same words, but with free connections, or at least works towards the emancipation of language. Moulène’s aim is “to let poetry emerge” (Coll. 2016, 129). Moulène con­ siders a wide range of data and field of forces created by the context, that infuse the meaning of dialectic artwork during the processes of cut and assemblage in order to create a plastic language.3 Moulène’s artistic process creates knowledge about the elements that are intertwined. In Intersecting, some parts are excluded in order to know something about what remains. Through what remains of two elements, aspects that are common and aspects that differ in the two elements are highlighted. For Moulène, both transformations can potentially coexist in one artwork. Each of his artworks could be placed on a spectrum according to the relationship between their two main elements. These transformations are like a collage process in three dimensions. Because they are intertwining heterogeneous elements, this process creates hybrids. These hybrids critique identity politics. According to Moulène, “identity” usually clusters the world in enclosed, easily understandable units (Coll. 2016, 61). He tackles the question of identity differently, by comparing one element in relation to other elements, of the same artwork or of a series of artworks. This enables consideration of differences as well as “commonality.”4 According to Michel Poivert, for Moulène, the “art industry [is considered] as a stage for the dissemination and inversion of the singular and the commonplace”

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(Coll. 2016, 76). While the specific articulation of this commonplace differs from artwork to artwork, the political agency of Moulène’s sculptures relies on their capacity to transmute singularity into commonplace. A good art­ work for Moulène is the one that appears to him as “finished” or “com­ plete,” not because of a formal characteristic of the whole in relation to its parts, but in the sense that the dialectics of the singular and the common­ place can take place for the visitor. In Moulène’s artworks, when the intersection is a space, then, the spatial meaning is central to the artwork, and the intersection can be considered as a threshold space, as a common yet hybrid space of both elements. Also, the topology used by Moulène is usually more complex than a simple inter­ section. As such, his artworks become spatially singular. Our discussion above of the relation between the singular and the commonplace also ap­ plies to the threshold space in the artwork. Moulène uses a recurrent transformation process for his sculptures that is similar to the Benjaminian “inside-out sock” discussed in Chapter 2. Moulène calls it a “knot.” This is a surprising connection with Benjamin’s writings. This transformation blurs the boundaries between interior and exterior. For example, in Blown Knot_2_21 (Figure 11.1), a ruby glass envelope is intertwined or knotted with an emerald glass envelope. The knot here exemplifies a “protocol of maximum abstraction” (Negarestani 2014, 24). For Moulène: “it has no interior or exterior. There is no terri­ tory: there are several surfaces, yet no territory. However, any explanation and classification rely on this binary mode, these pairs of exclusion” (Coll. 2016, 87). With just two envelopes, Moulène achieves a spatial complexity that involves multiple spaces, at different scales. Through this experience of the knot, a singular space is created. The sculptures Model for Sharing and Model for Diving, visible in Figure 11.1, combine this abstraction with the idea of the architectural pavilion. In these, we decipher elements of architecture: an entrance, an envelope that serves as a shelter, and spaces inside the envelope, that merge with the form of the knot. The sculptures prompt us to reflect on archi­ tectural exteriors and interior spaces. Numerous artworks by Moulène manifest a “threshold experience” as they intertwine two envelopes and give the simultaneous experience of two spaces. Thus, they prompt thoughts about threshold space, in the specific context of each artwork. Moreover, the topology of the knot, and other complex topologies used by Moulène, affect the body and the mind of the visitor, in a similar way Benjamin’s description of the effects of the “inside-out sock.” Badiou confirms that the knot is a metaphor of fundamental philosophical ques­ tions concerning the ambiguous links between subject and object, interior and exterior, container and content, through the bodily perception of the sculptures (Badiou 2019). The produced artwork has its meaning through the combination of context, matter/objects, and topology.

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Potentials for the design of Thresholds through computational design When Moulène uses CD for his topological transformations, the meaning of the artwork is also about this tool. “His art takes part in the rapid ad­ vancement of such technologies that re/produce the world, making palpable the social and historical dimensions that are absent in its conventional objects and commodities” (SculptureCenter 2019). The use of CD by Moulène is a way to extend and enhance some transformations and con­ cepts that were already present in his previous works. CD is an amplifier of Moulène’s plastic language based on intertwining, as it can create complex surfaces, including all imaginable three-dimensional topological figures, and complex precise cuts. CD enables more complex experimentation on the ambiguities between interior and exterior space. For example, the 2016 artwork Bi-face, shown in Figure 11.1, exemplifies the use of CD for sculpture. The knot, at large human scale, creates twists in the surfaces. The red surface and the blue surface are alternatively concave and convex. Therefore, the visitor some­ times imagines that the blue matter is a fill-in, and sometimes that the red matter is a fill-in. There is actually no fill-in — these are just parametric surfaces (like a car’s bodywork). The knot changes our perception of the interior and exterior when we walk around the sculpture. In various art­ works, Moulène explores the array of surfaces and cuts that can be created with CD, in relation to more classical cuts in matter or surfaces in classical sculpture. For Moulène, an artwork is not necessarily limited by a contour. If the artwork is a solid material, the contour is more of a cut than an edge. If it is a hard material, it is more of a break. So, you could say that I try to create knots that take us from the surface of objects, through their cuts, to their substance, and back towards the visible surface. For both Material and Image (3D design, which has no interior nor exterior) I use cutting as an investigative tool. (Coll. 2016, 115) Moulène pushes the design tools and production tools to their limits, to create effects on the spatial experience of the visitor. More commonly, CD generates surfaces as contours, like car bodywork. Moulène develops critical thought about CD, especially a critique of basic, mass-produced objects. Bi-face prompts us to think about all stages of the design and production process. According to Duplaix, “The creation of any object is the result of interactions not only between a choice of materials, but also between the forces at work in the production (thus borrowing from geometry) as well as the procedure selected for manu­ facturing” (Coll. 2016, 18). By prompting thought about these different

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stages of the design process, Bi-face has a political meaning about the production of space.5 According to Badiou, the topology of the artwork enhances this meaning, as it affects the body and the mind of the visitors. However, there are challenges to the design of thresholds through CD. Through Moulène’s critical approach of art and design, he warns people of the risk of losing artistic value through the misuse of CD. Regarding the subject of threshold spaces, he warns us of the risk of losing the singularity of spaces and generating homogeneous space. According to him, the sculpture becomes “bones,” as described by the title of one of his artworks, More or Less Bone (see Figure 11.1). For this sculpture, the artist produced an optimised form connecting three generic objects: a sphere (an abstract form), a spiral staircase (a constructed form), and a knucklebone (an organic form). Modelling these conditions in CATIA and other software, Moulène and the engineers introduced further constraints, manipulating the form of this ‘object of juncture’ to account for a set volume, scale, terrestrial gravity, the material properties of fibreglass, and environmental conditions like wind and earthquakes … The result of this optimisation, a process often employed to increase efficiency and profitability in manufacturing, is an object that looks remarkably like a bone. If a work of art as such exists alongside the social/material matrix of a certain moment in time, which could otherwise be called politics, then Moulène’s More or Less Bone posits that the conditions of optimised production drive all form toward the skeletal: fleshless, scraped clean, hard, and without waste; the absolute minimum necessary. (SculptureCenter 2019) Moulène foresees that CD will create challenges in the future, particularly the predominance of technology that surpasses human skills and creates “dead” shapes that do not affect the spectators. The expression of dialectics is enhanced through CD At the same time, this technology has its upsides. More or Less Bone shows that CD can generate shapes that could not have been generated before. Not only is this sculpture generated through the merging of three shapes, but, more interestingly, its design considers a “field of forces” of environ­ mental conditions like wind and earthquakes to generate the shapes. The topological approach enabled this morphing of the shape, under the influ­ ence of this field of forces. The different dialectic approaches present in Moulène’s usual design process are present in this new CD process. It enabled Moulène to consider dialectics in the design process and express those dialectics in the final shape. In a dialectic way, Moulène criticises as well as shows the potential

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of CD. Through this criticality, More or Less Bone is for Moulène an artwork, and not only a “dead” technical shape. When used appropriately, CD can create complex experimentations on Intersection and Disjunction to generate singular shapes and spaces. CD can enable the expression of dialectics and this ability enables foresight of possibilities for the future of architecture. Embracing various socio-political aspects could be further explored by using a larger set of more complex data, parameters and/or algorithms, as these new computing technologies surpass human data processing capabilities. The potential of CD to create complex spaces at architectural scale can address the dialectics of the Individual and the Collective. In the future, machines could also integrate more information about individual and col­ lective perception, thus sharpening the accuracy of CD tools. Machines could process the dialectics of the Individual and the Collective, the dia­ lectics of the common and differences, and so on, in specific contexts. Moulène says that his artworks consist more or less in bringing together the State, its terror (the one it exerts in the private sphere) and the individual, its collective body, to see how they interact in what will become an artwork. … I do not exhibit resolutions, but tensions. (Coll. 2016, 80) Although it is not an architectural practice, Moulène’s art practice inspires critical practice in architecture and shows that this critical practice could be possible in the future through the correct use of computational tools. This approach makes it possible to consider multiple dialectics of the social con­ text and the programme during the CD process. Concomitantly, the tools will enable consideration of the impact on the individual and on the collective perception and behaviour of people. According to Moulène, artistic value remains based on subjective decisions, which could be the multiple sub­ jectivities of people collaborating on an artwork (Moulène 2020). Critical practice of art and architecture today still relies on the human orchestration of design tools and human design choices.

Robotic partitioning: challenges and advantages for thresholds Transformable architecture blurring the limits between public and private space Computational tools allow architects to design robotic architectural features that transform over time. As already mentioned, CD enables subtle adapta­ tion of data and parameters to the requirements of private and public spaces. Operating robotic partitions can adapt in time to a changing dataset.

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Potentially, these systems could adapt buildings to ever-quickening, con­ tinuously changing contexts. For thresholds, partitions are key feature that determine the links between public and private space. There is a risk that constant change to a partition layout will tend to blur the limits between spaces, and thus the differences in status between spaces. This blurring of limits can challenge the physical thresholds between public and private space. What do robotic partitions make possible, that was not possible before? The complexity and the dynamism made possible by robotics enables people to command transformation of the partitions to redefine limits be­ tween spaces. The virtue of robotic partitions is the potential for adaptation to changing needs, especially changes in needs related to the types of action and interaction persons have in space. These possibilities for robotic par­ titions appear utopian but are worth considering for imagined future ar­ chitectural practices. Is it inevitable that robotic partitions lead to a loss of distinction between public and private space? It is not inevitable, since during transformation, operators can direct certain functions that maintain status differences should they choose. Community-controlled robotic partitions Unlike traditional practice, computational tools enable input by multiple participants, and thus potentially by a community. Partition shapes could vary following parameters that match community aspirations, especially links between public and private space. Individual community members can have input into the shape and position of partitions that delimit spaces. By modelling social norms (as much as possible) into multiple parameters that are manageable and controllable by a community, the system could in­ tegrate tensions inherent to the functioning of the community. These ten­ sions could find an expression in physical architectural features. When partitions change form and position based on community member input, the community has agency over its environment. Power can be shared at different levels: between the governor of societal rules and the community, or between the community and its individual members. The hypothesis is that with the level of data and complexity enabled by computers, community-focused spaces are possible (Hight and Perry 2006). If a com­ munity is controlling the system, some public buildings could gain relative autonomy from the control of the governor of societal rules. This allows control to be maintained at the scale of a community rather than the governor controlling the community as part of a much larger society and territory. That is, relative autonomy at the scale of the community can be maintained without creating a radically closed system. Architecture could thus be in a certain level of interaction with context. By enabling commu­ nity input, the system can, somewhat surprisingly, promote the sociopolitical sense of a building by allowing a more horizontal mode of con­ figurations of spaces. Through this relative autonomy of the system, politics

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could be performed on a continuous basis. The future of computerdetermined urbanism could have benefits if the tools are developed and used in a critical way. That is, when engaging with the context, and when picking the appropriate parameters and algorithms, computational archi­ tecture could be critical. Threshold space could become the space of negotiation between the common rules of society and the fluctuating norms of particular commu­ nities. The threshold becomes the architectural expression of this negotia­ tion. This technology could be applied to the whole array of architectures of threshold spaces mentioned in Part II. In each case, an interesting debate could occur regarding data and parameters to be considered in the system, and their architectural expression. The effect of the design on people’s presence, movement, and actions would be key and could be used as data to reinject into the system.

Atmospheric architecture: challenges and advantages for Thresholds6 There is contemporary interest in challenging the predominance of the vi­ sual aspects of architecture. An aspect of this form that can be considered for Thresholds is the freedom of movement in space enabled by the “at­ mospheric” elements affecting senses other than vision (humidity, light, heat, sound, and chemicals), that define an architecture through means other than solids. That is, the visual experience is extended by other senses through the use of atmospheric elements. This present tendency to refer to climate in architecture was peripheral to the general discourse about ar­ chitectural shapes in the 1980s and 1990s, became more widespread in the next two decades, and with the rising concerns around ecology and sus­ tainability have become more prominent. The concept of Threshold allows analysis of the “threshold potential” of atmospheric architectures. To illustrate this, we will consider examples from the architecture of Philippe Rahm and art installations by Christophe Berdaguer and Marie Péjus. The Threshold approach sheds new light on the ability of these examples to structure spaces via atmospheres, that is, to define the limits of spaces, avoid excessive homogeneity, or created a chaotic intertwining of spaces. Architects and artists Christophe Berdaguer and Marie Péjus are pioneers in experimentation regarding chemical and hormonal substances. They create chemical environments that affect certain perceptive functions. For example, in their art installation Laughingdog (Berdaguer and Péjus 2002), nitrous oxide in balloons is inhaled by visitors, causing changes in their conscious­ ness, such as euphoria, visual and auditory distortions, and a sedative effect. Their Hormonal City project can be considered as a manifesto: Hormonal City is a study on the possibilities and design limits of a city whose form and function would be determined only by chemical,

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Constraints to the existence of thresholds biological and electromagnetic information directly transmitted to the human body, without architectural intermediaries. The transmission of this information does not resort to any medium other than itself, i.e. without any built or aesthetic media, reducing to a minimum the distance between the transmitter and the receiver. The transmitted information relates directly to a human need, without transition through the metabolism. The action takes place on the body, through its physiological capacities to receive information and to react, without having to use a decryption by the senses … Space is created by emission, diffusion and absorption. (Berdaguer and Péjus 2000)

They predict a disappearance of the visible in future architectural projects. Philippe Rahm aims to create architecture using an array of sensations that affect the body, considering solid physical materials and forms as secondary. The effect on the visitor is to create moods rather than visual effects. Rahm belongs to a handful of practitioners who work on atmospheres; he uses the word “atmosphere” to draw an analogy with climate at the larger scale—using convection, evaporation, conduction, and pressure as the basis of his designs. Physical material is minimised but never completely erased, as atmospheric materials need to be transported and diffused through pipes or other features. These features are like machines that produce stimuli, sensations, and moods. At the beginning of his career, Rahm designed a series of (mostly not im­ plemented) “meteorological” or atmospheric design projects, incorporating a diverse range of physical, chemical, and organic substances. For example, the Air de Paris unrealised boat project for Voies Navigables de France (2008) addresses the senses of taste and smell. The spatial organisation of the boat is created by technical features that are solid. The project: prioritises the building’s air supply, thus transforming the technical issue of the ventilation duct and its distribution of air into one that is in principle architectonic, spatial, and poetic. The diameter of the ventilation duct is essentially widened until it becomes itself an inhabitable space which slides, bends, contracts and expands along the entire length of the building. Instead of a system of galvanised steel panelling, this ventilation shaft is made of solid load-bearing limestone, reproducing along its length, in miniature from West to East, the geological stratification of soil eroded by the wind, from the Atlantic Ocean to the Parisian basin, from Le Havre to Paris. (Rahm et al. 2008) According to Rahm, the upside of using atmospheric materials is that it avoids issues around shallow aesthetics and style. He aims to radically re­ move all physical partitioning and maintain only diffusion systems and small-scale physical features. Rahm seeks to go beyond the notion of

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narrative (still very present, according to him, in the architecture of the 1980s), by resorting to a dissociation of the sensed elements. A text written by Jean-Gilles Decosterd and Rahm is like a manifesto, in which they state: Architecture is usually developed in a three-dimensional universe. A spatial coordinate system, along three axes, x, y, and z, makes it possible to relate and project all the points, lines, surfaces, volumes. Architecture is thus circumscribed in a physical and metric spatiality. This delimitation of space was first questioned with modernity, when, with his book Space, Time and Architecture, the Swiss architectural historian Siegfried Giedion (2008) introduced time and the displace­ ment of the inhabitant as a fourth dimension of architecture, thus modifying the perception of space and its production. Today, we would like to intervene on other dimensions of architecture, by working on the very matter of perception and reality, by amplifying the current visible spectrum to reach new, thinner expanses, that are hidden in the folds of time and space. We want to extend the measurement and fabrication of space to other parallel and invisible universes. (Rahm and Décosterd 2005) That is, atmospheric architecture seeks to go beyond any formal style and any aesthetic trend. When we analyse its discourse, we can see that this endeavour is not new. Some artworks from past artistic movements, such as Romanticism or Impressionism, also sought to go beyond any formal style by referring natural atmospheres. Rahm’s architecture of atmospheres, being inspired by natural atmospheres, has similarities (Kimmel 2011). A potential benefit of atmospheric architecture is the creation of a link be­ tween architectures and the larger-scale environment, as both are considered as Umwelten, the sensory environment specific to an individual or a Collective (Uexküll 1957, 5). An atmospheric architecture as Umwelt exerts less power, control, and disturbance on the environment relative to, for example, longlasting concrete foundations and constructions. The aim of creating structured spaces with atmospheric elements was already present among the avant-garde at the beginning of the twentieth century. The avant-garde project can be re­ interpreted and deepened in light of current technologies. This succession of atmospheres could be, as Lévi-Strauss said, “a natural temporality, and even a meteorological one” (Lévi-Strauss 1962, 46). In this imagined atmospheric architecture, the visitor could move through a succession of hybrids and het­ erogeneous spaces as Umwelten, and thus experience thresholds. A lack of collective experience and privacy from atmospheric architecture The first downside of atmospheric architecture is the loss of socially driven structuring of space that could form a long-lasting framework for social

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relations. There can be no instantaneous and synchronous perception of atmospheric elements by the collective body. For Hegel, smell, taste, and to a greater extent, touch, are less effective at evoking a spatiality than sight and hearing (Hegel 1970, 103–104). The perception of variations of at­ mospheric materials requires sufficient time for the movement of the visitor through space (or staying at one point to sense the variations over time). There is no common language of atmospheric architecture that can be perceived synchronously and have shared meaning. One of Rahm’s recent and most recognised architectural projects is the Taichung Jade Eco Park in Taiwan (Rahm et al. 2016). For this project, Rahm, Catherine Mosbach, and Ricky Liu & Associates created different microclimates at architectural scale using technical devices. A series of canopy-like pavilions, equipped with heating/cooling features or ventilation systems, define subspaces. The pavilions are like the Pocket Spaces dis­ cussed in Chapter 8. They enhance public space by fostering gatherings under their canopies. Rahm’s intention was to create microclimates that are evocative of different landscapes by mimicking climates: desert wind, an­ ticyclone, moonlight, stratus clouds, and cool light. The coupling of the visual aspects of the small pavilions and the created climatic characteristics becomes an artistic installation that intends to evoke “collective dreams” of iconic landscapes. With this project, Rahm realised an idea of microclimate as symbols of iconic landscapes in a similar way to that he intended with the Air de Paris project. Although the Eco Park project is more architectural than the more conceptual Ghost flat project, its spaces still lack social meaning, so that it fails to create an architectural framework for social life. If one removes the traditional physical partitions and furniture from Rahm’s realised architectural projects, none display spaces of different statuses, and thus none display thresholds. The first downside of atmospheric projects, the loss of structuring of space, is not only caused by too much freedom of movement, but also by too much constraint. While, on the one hand, Taichung Jade Eco Park certainly allows freedom of movement in space unbound by hard partitions, an excessive constraint is also apparent. That is, visitors need to adapt to the system to maintain the experience. In other words, for a group of people to have the same atmospheric experience, they need to follow the atmosphere—a mist, aroma cloud or heat bubble, for example—to main­ tain the experience. The locally created atmosphere is so fragile that people are subjected to its uncontrolled evolution and must respond. This fragility is experienced by the visitor when any other smell, light or other element, disturbs the system defined by the designer. Through this lack of definition of spatial characteristics, the system loses its architectural function. Another downside of atmospheric architecture is the absence of physical partitioning which challenges needs for semi-privacy, considered as a re­ quirement of social life. There is no privacy in the atmospheric architecture realised so far by the considered designers. This merging of the natural and

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artificial (instead of hybridisation), and a total continuity between archi­ tecture and landscape, homogenises space. In the unrealised project Ghost flat at CCA Kitakyushu, Japan, designed by Rahm in partnership with writer Marie Darrieussecq (Rahm et al. 2004), a single space is fitted with coloured lighting to create architectural atmospheres linked to certain functions of the habitation at different times. He uses green when it func­ tions as a bathroom, blue when it’s a bedroom, and red when it’s a living room. Since the functions occur in the same space, the project leads to a homogenisation of space. Either there are no thresholds in the project, or the whole project is the threshold because of the intertwining. Imagining the potential for atmospheric architecture to create Thresholds Can we imagine a spatially structured threshold between public and private space using atmospheric architecture? If we could, this would require a technological system that creates transient view-blocking partitions with atmospheric elements. A simple example that helps us understand and vi­ sualise the idea of transient view-blocking partitions is a laser curtain striking diffused molecules. A system of this kind would enable semi-private spaces. The semi-private space could be composed of different atmospheric elements to the public space, in order to create a heterogeneous atmosphere. The threshold could then be the intertwining of both sets of atmospheric elements, such as a green zone at the margin between zones of blue and yellow. Or, in the threshold, a specific molecule or hormone could be dif­ fused to prepare the visitor to the public or to the semi-private space. Artist Ann Veronica Janssens is working with cognitive scientists to imagine the future of atmospheres and thresholds (Janssens and Ergino 2016). When zones display various lighting intensities and colours, the variations are perceived instantaneously, and the whole installation appears spatially structured. When these variations in atmospheric elements structure space, they can match the targeted heterogeneity of architecture through hy­ bridisation between the natural and the artificial, instead of a total merging or a total dissociation of the natural and the artificial. According to Bruno Latour, through hybridisation of the natural and the artificial (Latour 2006), atmospheric architecture could create cultural spaces displaying different statuses, and therefore display thresholds. We can imagine another example of a technological system with robotic partitioning that enables a transformation from visitors adapting to the system, to the system adapting to the visitors. A combination of robotic partitioning and atmospherics could facilitate a collective experience. CD tools could help to instantly “correct” any undesired boundary erasure, reducing the need for visitors to respond to the system. For example, ro­ botic tools could ensure a stable atmosphere where a collective group of people is gathered. People would not have to “follow” the atmospheric

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cloud to share this atmosphere. In imagined future projects, this coupling could combine the advantages of both atmospheric architecture and robotic architectural features. Rahm’s project that most closely uses the coupling of atmospheric ar­ chitecture and robotic objects is the unrealised design for the rehabilitation of the lower spaces of the Palais de Tokyo (2010), entitled Les météores. In this project, Rahm presented “a fluctuating and variable atmosphere of objects, picture railings, lights, heat and airs, like meteors.” Taking ad­ vantage of the flexibility allowed by the Plan libre, Rahm designed sus­ pended spheres as moving “meteors” diffusing light and substances to create atmospheres. In addition to this use of the Plan Libre, inspired by Le Corbusier, Rahm was also inspired by certain characteristics of Andrea Branzi’s utopian No-stop City (1967) and the explorations of the avantgarde around synaesthesia. He planned preinstalled computer and elec­ tricity networks on the floor, to which objects could be plugged in a free and changeable manner. While being conceptually powerful, Rahm’s pro­ ject fails to structure space. While his coupling of atmospheric materials and robotic architectural partitions created a double challenge for the project, the successful combination could achieve a double benefit for structuring public, semi-public, and semi-private spaces in a dynamic way.

Notes 1 This part builds on previous publications by the author (Kimmel, 2018; Kimmel 2020a). The social context also partly affects architecture through “techniques” and “instruments.” Here, “technique” refers to technologies of construction (in metal, glass, concrete, and other materials, along with prefabricated modules). “Instruments” refer to optical devices (such as perspective) that affect the percep­ tion of reality and the experience of space. Famous Benjaminian apparatuses are photography and the camera obscura. They are not directly related to architecture. In architecture, “instruments” also include drawings and other projecting techni­ ques, such as perspectives applied to build forms or today, computational design. The complex spatial and temporal meaning of the perspective line is revolutionary in relation to the experience of envelopes. The objectivity of the envelope has often been combined with the idealism of perspective. The Arcade and the panorama are good examples of intertwined perspectives and envelopes. Designed through per­ spectives, the arcade is also an enveloped interior. Representing continuous urban perspectives of cities or battlefields, the panorama also acts as an envelope. Benjamin also noted how Le Corbusier used multiple perspectives to develop a Cubist approach to architecture in the twentieth century (Giedion, 2000, 86). These multiple perspectives are combined with the envelopes and make up its archi­ tectures. These fundamentals of architectural space are the object of critical analysis in this book. 2 Today, social media blur the limits of the public and the private in our ev­ eryday life. 3 It is also interesting to imagine that an architectural language could be motivated by the emancipation it enables. In this book I have tackled the question of the emancipation of individuals and/or communities, rather than the architectural language itself, but the language could nevertheless have a significant influence.

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4 Michel Poivert analyses the Disjonctions in Moulène’s as being directly related to Chklovski’s “non-coincidences in resemblance” (Chklovski, 2008; Coll, 2016, 75), particularly with the photographic series of Disjonctions [Disjunctions], 1983–1995, revealing the dysfunctions of society through ordinary spatial con­ figurations, or again, Objets de grève [Strike Objects], 1999–2003 (Coll, 2016, 19). 5 In a place like the Centre Pompidou, where Bi-face has been exhibited, the sculpture also supports a critique of the architecture of the Centre Pompidou and its modes of assemblage, invented in the nineteenth century. 6 This part builds on two previous publications by the author (Kimmel, 2010 and 2011).

References Badiou, Alain. Matter and Form, Self-evidence and Surprise: On Jean-Luc Moulène’s Objects. New York: Sequence Press, 2019. Berdaguer, Christophe, and Péjus, Marie. “Hormonal City.” In Christophe Berdaguer Marie Péjus Website. 2000a. 14 April 2021 www.cbmp.fr/fr/website/ detail/oeuvres/97. Berdaguer, Christophe, and Péjus, Marie. “Hormonal City.” In Documents d’artistes. 2000b. 14 April 2021 www.documentsdartistes.org/artistes/berdaguer-pejus/ repro.html. Berdaguer, Christophe, and Péjus, Marie. “Laughingdog.” In Christophe Berdaguer Marie Péjus Website. 2002. 14 April 2021 www.cbmp.fr/fr/website/detail/oeuvres/40. Chklovski, Victor. L’Art comme Procédé. Paris: Allia, 2008. Coll. Jean-Luc Moulène – Centre Pompidou. Paris: Centre Pompidou, Collection Dilecta, 2016. Colomina, Beatriz. Privacy and Publicity – Modern Architecture as Mass Media. Cambridge, London: The MIT Press, 1994. Décosterd & Rahm associés, and Jacqmin, Jérôme. “Ghost Flat.” In Philippe Rahm website. 2004. 14 April 2021 www.philipperahm.com/data/projects/ghostflat/ index.html. Giedion, Siegfried. Construire en France: Construire en Fer, Construire en Béton. Paris: La Villette, 2000. Giedion, Siegfried. Space, Time and Architecture. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2008. Hegel, Georg W. F. Enzyklopadie der philosophischen Wissenschaften im Grundrisse 1, 2, 3 (1830). Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1970. Hight, Christopher, and Perry, Chris. “Collective Intelligence in Design.” In AD Architectural Design 76:5 (September/October 2006), 5–9. Janssens, Ann Veronica, and Ergino, Nathalie. “Presentation.” In Laboratoire Espace Cerveau website. 2016. 14 April 2021 www.laboratoireespacecerveau.eu/index. php?id=682. Kimmel, Laurence. “Des jardins artificiels par d’autres stimuli que purement visuels.” In Projets de paysage. July 2010. 14 April 2021 www.projetsdepaysage.fr/fr/accueil. Kimmel, Laurence. “Les Paysages Impressionnistes de Philippe Rahm.” In L’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui 381 (February 2011), 99–103. Kimmel, Laurence. “Possibility of Critical Practice in Computational Design: Applications on Boundaries Between Public and Private Space.” In Cahiers de la

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recherche architecturale et urbaine. 2018. 14 April 2021 https://journals. openedition.org/craup/402 Kimmel, Laurence. “Walter Benjamin’s Topology of Envelopes and Perspectives.” In Journal of Architecture 25 (2020a), 659 – 678. Latour, Bruno. Nous n’avons jamais été Modernes. Paris: La Découverte, 2006. Lévi-Strauss, Claude. La Pensée Sauvage. Paris: Plon, 1962. Low, Setha, Taplin, Dana and Scheld, Suzanne. Rethinking Urban Parks. Public Space and Cultural Diversity. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2006. Madanipour, Ali. Communal Space of the Neighbourhood, in Public and Private Spaces of the City. London, New York: Routledge, 2003. Moulène, Jean-Luc. Conversation with the author, 2 June 2020. Negarestani, Reza. “Torture Concrete. Jean-Luc Moulène and the Protocol of Abstraction.” In Torture Concrete. New York: Miguel Abreu Gallery, Sequence Press, 2014. 1–30. Picon, Antoine. Digital Culture in Architecture: an Introduction for the Design Profession. Basel: Birkhäuser, 2010. Rahm, Philippe architectes, Mosbach, Catherine paysagistes, Ricky Liu & Associates. “Jade Eco Park.” In Philippe Rahm website. 2016. 14 April 2021 www.philipperahm.com/data/projects/taiwan/index.html. Rahm, Philippe, and Décosterd, Jean-Gilles. Decosterd & Rahm: Physiological Architecture—Architecture Physiologique. Bâle: Birkhauser, 2005. Rahm, Philippe, Jacqmin, Jérôme, Bernik, Andrej, Spielvogel, Caroline, and Assaad, Cyril. “Filtered Realities.” In Philippe Rahm website. 2008. 14 April 2021 www.philipperahm.com/data/projects/filteredrealities/index.html. Reinmuth Gerard, and Benjamin Andrew. “Autonomy-Within Relationality: An Alternative for Architecture After the Global Financial Crisis.” In Interstices: Journal of Architecture and Related Arts 20 (2020), 93–106. SculptureCenter. “Jean-Luc Moulène: More or Less Bone.” In SculptureCenter website. 2019. 14 April 2021 www.sculpture-center.org/exhibitions/11574/jeanluc-moulne-more-or-less-bone. Uexküll, Jakob von. “A Stroll Through the Worlds of Animals and Men: A Picture Book of Invisible Worlds.” In Schiller, Claire H., ed. Instinctive Behaviour: The Development of a Modern Concept. New York: International Universities Press, 1957. 5–80.

12 A critique of homogenisation and segregation

Threshold spaces resist both homogenisation of space and its opposite, segregation between public and private space. As such, the concept of Threshold enables development of a critique of homogenisation and segregation. This chapter presents a synthesis of both homogenisation and segregation, focusing on the negative impacts they have on society. In the case of homogenisation, as seen in Chapter 11, the main negative impact is disabling privacy, and thus disabling real public space (since both work in relation to one another). In the case of segregation, as seen in Chapters 9 and 10, the main negative impact is disabling social interaction. When public buildings are remote from public space, there is no way to benefit from the autoregulation of public space. The location of semi-private spaces in the city, and the city’s thresholds and progression of spaces from exterior to interior, creates the politics of the built environment. The facades and thresholds are a visual expression of this politics.

Ideologies of hyperconnectivity and segregation in architecture The idea of hyperconnectivity in homogeneous space relates, during the Modern period, to the pre-eminence of scientific theories about places as points in space, like dots on a map. This idea was defined precisely by Edward Casey (1998). Antoine Picon identified a specific influence of this ideology on society in the nineteenth century through the influence of SaintSimon. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Count of SaintSimon wrote about nature as a permanent flow. Saint-Simon extended the idea of permanent flow to an ideology of the network and of the continuous circulation of goods. For Saint-Simon, communication networks were the means for a global society. He saw the planet as a large collective body and architecture as organic shapes that could be the infrastructure for all physical and intangible exchanges (Picon 2002, 32). The hippie dream from the 1960s for the universal association of humans, connecting the two extremes of the individual and the global, is similar to Saint-Simon’s vision. Today, DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-12

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the ideology of homogeneous space is supported by the ideology of the hyperconnectivity of networks. This in return affects our physical living environment. Today, “hyperconnectivity in homogeneous space” relates to the technological advances of communication between devices, like points connected in a global network. Concepts of delineation and partitioning, and thus segregation in the Modern period, relate to the idea of the monofunctional capsule, exemplified by the “monad” theory. The excessive rationality of the Modern period encouraged partitioning, as exemplified by Jean-Nicolas-Louis Durand’s architectural theory (Durand 1809). Partitioning also enables an easy application of hierarchical thought systems of domination, control, and police. The ideologies of homogeneous space and segregation of space are both major concepts that currently run through many streams of thought. These two concepts of homogeneity and segregation are expressed in architecture and urban planning. In Chapters 9 and 10, we discussed thresholds in the context of segregation of space. The examples related to high constraints for movement and behaviours. Here are some contemporary architectural tendencies we identified for partitioning public buildings: •

• • • • • •

Rationalist organisation of delineated perimeters and partitioned rooms. That is, the matching of perimeter/room with function, status (public/private) and/or usage (individual/collective). Concealment of sexual practices. Concealment of death-related practices. Control over a group or community. Hiding practices judged as illegal or immoral from public space. Features that make it easy to organise hierarchical systems. Features that make it easy to organise physical control.

In Chapter 11 we discussed thresholds in the context of the homogenisation of space. These examples related to high freedom of movement. Here are some contemporary architectural tendencies we identified for public space and public buildings: • •

• •

The management of flow of people. Efficiency of adaptability of transient spaces (including, for public space, adaptability to any type of public event, commercial event, social action, and so on). Features that make it easy to organise surveillance. A sense of safety created by open space.

And a set of values that apply mostly to buildings: •

A moral value of transparency.

A critique of homogenisation • •

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A symbolic value of the Plan libre (or more recent similar versions) and its sense of infinite space (remnants of modernity). The value of mimicry of natural processes in atmospheric architecture.

(Auto)regulation of society as pendulum movement between segregation and homogenisation According to Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, who grounds his philosophical thought in psychoanalytic theory, tendencies towards partitioning and connectivity through homogenisation of space are constant excesses of societies. Kacem’s work is pertinent since he has defined extreme characteristics of freedom and constraint that enhance a critique of homogenisation and segregation. For Kacem, the two fundamental affects of sociability are: • •

pity, which is the propensity for fusion (that is, homogenisation), and terror, which is the propensity for separation (that is, segregation).

Society tries to (auto)regulate through a constant dialectic between fusion and separation. The fact that no stable state can be reached leads to tragedy. This dynamic is the one of those tragedies. Tragedy has the political function of purging the two fundamental affects of sociability. “As in all tragedies, only one law dominates, no balance has been sought between the two” (Kacem 2020). Excesses of social tragedy result in excessive Law (a totalitarian approach of civic life) or in excessive freedom (an absence of Law). Both disrupt social life. In the context of an absence of Law, we can postulate an architecture that enables a total freedom of presence, movement, and action in space. According to Kacem, in the extreme case of an absence of Law, when there is infinite freedom, affective life is not possible (Kacem 2007, 37). According to Kacem, pleasure is unattainable, and instead of pleasure, society aims to attain higher moral ideals Kacem calls the “Ultimate Good” and “Universal Relation” between people. The implication of an absence of Law is a generalisation of ideals that cannot possibly be reached. In the absence of any principle regulating civic life, the city loses its potential to be a site of politics. In the context of excessive Law, we can postulate an architecture that imposes strict rules of access, movement, and actions. These principles are contrary to the principles of public space. According to Kacem, in the extreme case of absolute Law, which means an absence of freedom, affective life is also not possible (Kacem 2007, 52). Practices repeat according to this Law, but, in this repetition, the real collective affective “event” remains impossible, or it remains an unreachable “horizon.” According to Kacem, any strong regulation of practices amplifies practices that are not affectual. When the city is excessively controlled and policed, it also loses its potential to be a site of politics.

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Although some theorists defend an absence of Law and argue that humans do not need any Law, most of the theorists of civic life defend the idea of a balanced legal framework. Social life and the city require a basic, balanced framework to regulate the public sphere. In the field of architecture and urban planning, especially for public space and public buildings, society requires a certain framework that are its common rules that enable collective decision-making regarding the functioning and spatial organisation of social life. When there is a shift from the realm of common rules of society to extreme modes of collective psychology, dialectics are no longer in play in the city. Common rules of society enable diverse sets of sociocultural norms and real collective affective “events” in social life, creating the basis for the dialectics of civic life. Identifying these dynamics enables us to understand more specific sets of norms or contexts. These collective norms, mentalities, or ideologies are supported by the beliefs of individuals or collective groups of people. Architecture is a field where these cultural norms are made visible.

The contradictions of capitalism exemplify the contradictions of the social-political context: homogenisation and segregation The main economic, political, and social norm of our contemporary society is capitalism. This book is not the place to directly debate capitalism and its virtues or otherwise; however, given capitalism significantly affects both civic life and public space, a few principles need to be discussed, through the lens of its impacts on the fields of architecture and urban planning. According to Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe, the structure of adaptation to Capital is a social pathology (Lacoue-Labarthe 2005, 130). While LacoueLabarthe names this pathology a “neurosis,” in a free interpretation of the psychiatric term, we will analyse what in Capitalism could be related to excessive freedom and/or excessive constraint. Capitalism can be defined as an economic system based on the private ownership of the means of production and their operation for profit. Authors disagree on the impact of capitalism in terms of how it constrains social life or enables freedom in social life. The disagreements rely mainly on the type of capitalism authors consider; that is, liberalism, ultraliberalism, or neoliberalism. Some precision is necessary. Liberalism has gone through two stages, which can be succinctly summarised as follows: •

The classic liberal stage of capitalism, of the division of labour, exchange, and the invisible hand (Smith 1976; Ricardo 1973). This stage is emancipatory, invoking axiological neutrality, including the neoclassical elements of general equilibrium and pure and perfect competition proposed by Frenchman Léon Walras (1988).

A critique of homogenisation •

•

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The second stage of capitalism is ultraliberalism, which was supposed to guarantee the acquired advantages of the bourgeoisie. This was theorised by Herbert Spencer, an ultraliberal and social Darwinist adept of laissez-faire (Spencer 1850). The third stage of capitalism is neoliberalism, developed as a reform to ultraliberalism.

Critical Theory analysed the effects of capitalism in nineteenth- and twentiethcentury contexts and addressed the dialectics in play at the time. The shift from liberal capitalism to ultraliberalism and neoliberalism exacerbated social tensions and made the expression of dialectics even more intense, or maybe, because of the complexity of the context, very difficult to describe. Political analysts agree the development of the dynamics identified by the Frankfurt School are exacerbated in the contemporary era (Piketty 2014). Today, with the increase of capitalism, the dialectics of social context might be more intense, less balanced, and less predictable than in the period analysed by Critical Theory. Today, the evolution of society and capitalism has become less predictable than, for example, portrayed in Giovanni Arrighi’s cycles of capital models (Arrighi 1994). Today, the effect of the social context on architecture may be more diffuse and complex than it was in the past. Freedom and constraint in the context of capitalism While both positive and negative effects of the first stage of capitalism exist, in contrast, the second stage of capitalism is commonly criticised for its excessive domination of workers and society in general. Critical Theory enables us to understand the dynamics between freedom and domination during capitalism’s different stages. In the early 1930s, “the economist” of the Frankfurt School, Friedrich Pollock, said that there would be no revolution in the future, and that instead, an increasing concentration of political power and economic power, both functionally linked, would materialise. The social conditions under which one could imagine a generalisation of the emancipatory ideals of the eighteenth century are disappearing. In 1933, Pollock wrote “what ends is not capitalism but only its liberal phase. Economically, politically, and culturally, in the future, for a majority of people, there will be even less freedom” (Pollock 1933, 350).1 At the end of the nineteenth century, capitalism concentrated knowledge and skills, since science and knowledge are absorbed by big companies for the purposes of power. To meet their goals, companies had to make massive investments over the long term, and to enable this, everything had to be controlled, including people. From liberal capitalism, society moved to a capitalism that controlled all levels of society. According to Pollock, the individuals were not only crushed by exploitation—that is, domination, as Marx called it in 1845 (Marx 2017)—but individuals were crushed by the whole dynamics of the Industrial Revolution. The form of domination was achieved through an organisational

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system by large and extremely rigid hierarchical chains. In 1845, Marx had not perceived the powerful pathologies which were to result from hierarchical organisations. This development was considered unavoidable to maintain a productive society. The ideals of Reason and Enlightenment were totally turned into their opposites. These ideals became ambivalent and contradictory when combined with social mechanisms of domination.2 At the start of the twentieth century, the third stage of capitalism, neoliberalism, developed as a reform to ultraliberalism. The two great theorists of neoliberalism were progressive theorists Walter Lippmann and John Dewey, who sought to break with Spencer and his social Darwinism (Dewey 2013; Lippmann 2005). Neoliberalism appeared in the 1930s and its hegemony has spread since. Neoliberalism is the return of the State, an educating State, a State that is supposed to establish justice through equal opportunities, a State which re-adapts people to the context of capitalism. While appearing supportive, according to Barbara Stiegler, this readaptation happens in an authoritarian manner (Stiegler 2019). In the 1970s, Michel Foucault foresaw that neoliberalism would govern people by putting them in competition with each other. As a strategic response to the questioning of power by the revolts of 1968, society became a market, thus resulting in a loss of solidarity (Foucault 2004). Both Lippmann’s and Dewey’s thoughts are in fact dependent on that of Graham Wallas, who, in The Great Society (1914), theorises that, because of globalisation, individuals are confronted with an environment to which they are less adapted. According to Lippmann, there is something more and more hegemonic that accompanies globalisation, an ideology without a name, tainted by 1960s thought, soft totalitarianism, Big Brother, a sort of socialism that is still ultraliberalism. In the 1990s, we find this same phenomenon of cultural standardisation through the “making of consent,” with the growing role of social media (Stiegler 2019).3 This description shows how capitalism relates to a form of deregulation of society, coupled with forms of social control. Contradictory effects of capitalism on architecture Mirroring the contradictions inherent to liberalism and neoliberalism, the field of architecture and urban planning contains the same contradictions. The tendency for standardisation creates homogenisation of architectural thought with the viewpoints of the dominant groups spread across the profession. The dominant groups in Architecture and urban planning are multidisciplinary fields, situated at the crossroad of several organisational systems, thus different decision chains: the regulatory context, the client and its organisation, the project team, including building and manufacturing companies, and so on. They use partial information (that they control) to partially transform reality for their own profit. As with the rest of society, dominant groups are more successful in exerting control and

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power and in spreading their ideologies and aesthetics. These influences usually spread from the top of the hierarchy. The influence of dominant groups is exercised through control. Zones of freedom are reserved for the dominant societal class or, exceptionally, put at the disposal of the lower classes to maintain the dream of emancipation. So, one of the effects of capitalism on architecture is the enhancement of control (that is, less freedom) through, for example, zoning in urban planning and defined hierarchies between these urban planning zones. Control is also enhanced through the delineation of property plots. These separations and hierarchies in the city happen while the public dreams of sharing the same spaces as the dominant groups give an illusion of equality. Programmatic rationalisation, which affects spaces directly, is another effect of standardisation in the architectural field. The rationalist organisation of rooms has the tendency to partition rooms, and the success of flow management has the tendency to homogenise space. These are contradictory tendencies but can coexist or even be combined. Critiques of capitalism exist extensively in humanities, and exist, to a lesser extent, in architecture (Deamer 2013; Spencer 2016; Yarina 2017). Academic architecture literature identifies the two tendencies of homogenisation and segregation as part of a critique of capitalism. Gerard Reinmuth and Andrew Benjamin relate the tendency of homogenisation in architecture directly to capitalism. “Any distinction between public and private (no matter how tenuous such distinctions might be) vanishes through their integration in projects organised by the predominating hold of the market.” For them, differences can just be formal. It only allows for differentiation on the level of appearance … Form may change but what informs it remains the same, such that the difference is only registered as ‘variety’ … Resistance to the logic of capital is unthinkable. To think otherwise is to be labelled as ‘unprofessional.’ (Reinmuth and Benjamin 2020, 102) Interestingly, the influence of the “market,” that is of capitalism, is seen as unavoidable, as it infuses design tools, and therefore the use of these tools tends to erase boundaries between public and private space creating homogeneous space. Depending on the authors and the context, the tendencies of homogenisation and segregation are either seen to be created by capitalism or developed as a resistance strategy against it. Tools for a critique of Semi-private-Complex architecture expressing extreme contradictions To the two tendencies of continuous spatial homogeneity and spatial partitioning, we can add another type of architectural expression that combines

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both: Semi-private Complex architecture. Semi-private Complex architecture expresses the extreme dialectics of its context. As a consequence, people are affected by both the complex and contradictory injunctions embedded in the architecture. The injunctions embedded in the Semi-private Complex architecture vary depending on the size of the Semi-private Complex buildings considered. The most interesting example for this discussion of publicly accessible buildings is the large-sized megacomplex interconnecting and intersecting different functions. Megacomplexes are usually connected to transport infrastructure, which increases the level of expressed dialectics. A complex array of constraints and (very few) moments of freedom punctuate the experience of the visitor. People perceive and are affected by injunctions of different entities that own, regulate, or lease the spaces, for example retail shops and brands.4 The tools for the critique of excessive freedom and excessive constraints in capitalism are useful to critique these two similar excessive modes in architecture. The defence of Threshold Architecture is set in opposition to the critique of neutral homogeneous architecture, clustered architecture, and Semi-private Complex architecture. The concept of Semi-private Complex architecture will be one of four categories of architecture discussed in Chapter 14. These categories will enable a precise analysis of the ways in which the concept of Threshold resists homogenisation and segregation, unlike Semi-private Complex architectures.

Notes 1 The original text is: “Was zu Ende geht, ist nicht der Kapitalismus, sondern nur seine liberale Phase. Ökonomisch, politisch und kulturell wird es in Zukunft für die Mehrzahl der Menschen immer weniger Freiheiten geben.” 2 This description enables us to understand an important part of the dialectics of society. 3 Of course, the reality is always much more complex and nowhere will the ideology of neoliberalism appear in its pure form. Neoliberalism, liberalism, and social democracy are combined most of the time. Neoliberalism, although trying to regulate capitalism, has had no major success to date. 4 Similar effects on small-scale architecture can also be identified. As a small-scale project that expresses contradictions through architectural characteristics, the (modernist) house with glass curtain windows (overlooking the city) is at the same time totally open (visually) to the city and totally disconnected from the city through its glass windows. Another example is the repetition of identical houses in a suburban area: the repetition makes the suburban area a homogeneous space, and each family unit is concealed behind walls.

References Arrighi, Giovanni. The Long Twentieth Century: Money, Power, and the Origins of Our Times. London, New York: Verso, 1994.

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Casey, Edward. The Fate of Place. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. Darwin, Charles. On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. London: John Murray, 1866. Deamer, Peggy, ed. Architecture and Capitalism: 1845 to the Present. London: Routledge, 2013. Dewey, John. Democracy and Education (1916). Sterling, VA: Stylus, 2018. Dewey, John. Liberalism and Social Action (1935). Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books, 2013. Durand, Jean-Nicolas-Louis. Précis des Leçons d’Architecture données à l’École Royale Polytechnique,1 and 2. called le Petit Durand. Author, 1809. Foucault, Michel. Naissance de la Biopolitique. Cours au Collège de France. 1978–1979. Paris: EHESS/Seuil/Gallimard, 2004. Kacem, Mehdi Belhaj. “Confinement: Question à Mehdi Belhaj Kacem.” In Inferno 4. December 2020. 14 April 2021 < https://inferno-magazine.com/2020/12/04/ confinement-une-question-a-mehdi-belhaj-kacem/>. Kacem, Mehdi Belhaj. L’Affect. Auch: Tristram, 2007. Lacoue-Labarthe, Philippe. “De Hölderlin à Marx: mythe, imitation, tragédie.” In Labyrinthe 22:3 (2005), 121–133. Lippmann, Walter. The Good Society (1937). London: Routledge, 2005. Marx, Karl, and Engels, Friedrich. Gesamtausgabe (MEGA). Berlin, Boston: Internationale Marx-Engels-Stiftung, 2017. Picon, Antoine. Le Saint-Simonisme. Raison, Imaginaire et Utopie. Paris: Belin, 2002. Piketty, Thomas. Capital in the Twenty-First Century. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 2014. Pollock, Friedrich. “Bemerkungen zur Wirtschaftskrise.” In Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung II:3 (1933), 321–354. Reinmuth, Gerard, and Benjamin, Andrew. “Autonomy-Within Relationality: An Alternative for Architecture After the Global Financial Crisis.” In Interstices: Journal of Architecture and Related Arts 20 (2020), 93–106. Ricardo, David. The Works and Correspondence 1951–1973, 11 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge U. Press, 1973. Smith, Adam. An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, 2 vol. Oxford: Oxford U. Press, 1976. Spencer, Herbert. The Right to Ignore the State. London: Freedom Press, 1850. Spencer, Douglas. The Architecture of Neoliberalism: How Contemporary Architecture Became an Instrument of Control and Compliance. London: Bloomsbury, 2016. Stiegler, Barbara. Il faut s’adapter. Sur un Nouvel Impératif Politique. Paris: Nrf essais, Gallimard, 2019. Wallas, Graham. The Great Society. London: Macmillan and Co., 1914. Walras, Léon. Oeuvres Économiques Complètes, vol. VIII: Eléments d’Économie Politique Pure. Paris: Economica, 1988. Yarina, Elizabeth. “How Architecture became Capitalism’s Handmaiden: Architecture as Alibi for The High Line’s Neoliberal Space of Capital Accumulation.” In Architecture and Culture 5:2 (2017), 241–263.

Part IV

Towards a concept of Threshold Architecture

13 Artworks in public space: the role of Thresholds

This chapter explores the role of thresholds in the experience of art, thus in the experience of artistic dialectics. The artworks considered are architectural-scale sculptures and installations that very likely embody dialectics in spatial characteristics. The physical artistic projects considered tackle the concept of Threshold, even without having an architectural function, as they have an impact on the individual and the collective body. They structure space without classical architectural partitions and question the links between the individual and the collective, and sometimes between public and private space. The capacity for artistic works to structure space can be considered “architectural” when the scale of the artwork is suffi­ ciently large. The studied examples have unique sculptural or immersive spatial qualities which, in part, depend on their physical context. Each work has specific social and political meaning for the audience, who ne­ gotiates their presence in or around the work. Art is interesting for the exploration of the concept of threshold spaces, as art inspires architects and opens up possibilities for architecture. Artworks can sometimes “foresee,” or directly influence, architectural projects. We will discuss some examples. Art’s higher level of freedom allows artistic sensi­ bilities to channel and express the social context in sensitive shapes and their spatial configuration. When creating an artwork in public space, artists are more likely to be inspired by the surrounding environment (especially if it is a site-specific artwork) and the socio-political context. Site-specific public art in an urban context can reveal the dialectics of the socio-political context.

Artworks mediating negotiation between individual space, collective space, and physical context Threshold spaces in performance art: experiments on individual and collective bodies Some performance artwork focuses more on human interactions in space than on the visual aspects of the artwork. There were numerous experi­ mentations of this type within the avant-garde movements of the end of the DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-13

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Figure 13.1 Franz Erhard Walther From left to right, top to bottom: Vier Körpergewichte (counterbalancing body weights) Single Element n°42 of 1.Werksatz, 1968. Exhibition view at CAC Bretigny, France, 2008. Photograph : Steeve Beckouet for CAC Bretigny. © galerie Jocelyn Wolff. Vier Felder (four fields - four people) Single Element n°21 of 1.Werksatz. © galerie Jocelyn Wolff. Kreuz Verbindungsform (Cross Connecting Form) Political, Single Element n°36. © galerie Jocelyn Wolff.

nineteenth century and of the twentieth century, such as the experiments of Rudolf Steiner and Rudolf Laban in Europe. The experience of space has remained a major field of artistic experimentation in performance artworks to the present day.

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German artist Franz Erhard Walther creates artworks that include pieces of knitted fabrics that can be used by the public for performance (Figure 13.1). For Walther, “creating a work from action, defining a work in action, became the fundamental idea of [his] work since 1963: action is a form of the work that is of equal or higher importance than materials in past works” (Walther 1990). Objects and associated gestures make up Walther’s language, and the environment and spaces are also materials of the work: “time, language, body, space, place, history, action became materials, … place, time, space, vis-à-vis, direction, interior/exterior, limit, body, field, construction” are materials of his sculptures (Walther 1990). The combination of objects and performers in Walther’s practice creates a language of gestures and attitudes, and thus a language of resulting spaces around the performers. Rather than a formal language, it is a spatial lan­ guage. Through the combination of possibilities and restrictions of move­ ment and action defined by these pieces, the space between the performers and around the performers becomes structured in a specific way. As the language is shared among individuals, this gestural and spatial language can be the language of the collective body, thus enabling the artworks to have a collective spatial meaning. These sculptural aspects embody negotiation between public and private space, and collective and individual usage. Walther’s performance artworks show that intersubjective communication can occur through the use and experience of items that define degrees of constraint and freedom of movement and action in space. This supports the hypothesis of a “collective body,” that arises from dispersed individuals. Other famous artists link behaviour to sculptures at architectural scale, thus impacting the collective body. Bruce Nauman’s artworks also prompt visitors’ bodily experience. Following performance pieces of the Tasks series (for example Bouncing in the Corner 1 and 2—Upside Down, 1968–1969, or Slow Angle Walk—Beckett Walk, 1968), in which he confronts architecture with his body, Nauman built “Corridor” artworks as walls delimiting narrow spaces (including Live-Taped Video Corridor, 1969–1970, and Green Light Corridor, 1970). In Corridors, what mattered to Nauman was the move­ ment of the visitor within the corridors, and the way the visitor became an element of the whole artwork. Nauman tested the visitor’s relationship with limits and walls, and as such, tested the positioning of their bodies in space. Compared to architecture, these installations are excessively oppressive, creating an environment close to the distressing atmospheres imagined by Samuel Beckett. From one installation to another, the various shapes, heights, materials, and colours (of materials or of lighting) create various sensations. For example, Green Light Corridor from 1970 is a straight corridor with green lighting that visitors can only enter one at a time. Green Light Corridor is an intimate and quite oppressive installation. Prior to entry, negotiation happens between people seeking access to the corridor. Others observe the scene from outside the corridor. Truncated Pyramid

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Room (a project from 1982, recreated in 1998 at the Burghof in Lörrach) is a black pyramidal pavilion with orange lighting. Situated in the public realm, this sculpture with architectural scale enables the negotiation of the presence of people in and around the pavilion. This installation questions the threshold experience through sculptural means. Site-specific installations: threshold spaces and physical context Richard Serra more literally embraces the notion of architectural mon­ umentality in his installations. One example is the installation Clara Clara (1983, and temporarily installed in 2008–2009), in the Jardin des Tuileries, on the historic axis of Paris, which features large Corten steel surfaces. Serra’s interest in monumentality in terms of sites and shapes links his ar­ tistic practice to the realm of architecture. The sculptures Pulitzer Piece: Stepped Elevation, from 1970–1971 in Saint Louis, Missouri, and Shift from 1972 in Canada, are like architectures in the landscape. According to Serra, the sculpture Shift is constructed by considering the minimum distance from which two persons can distinctly see each other. This distance defines the length of a concrete wall. The walls in the landscape reveal the sur­ rounding site, its topography, its morphological qualities, and light. Central to the artwork is the spatial experience of the visitor. Walls delimit space, and at the same time point towards the distance, the upper limit of the wall being perceived as a perspective line. As Rosalind Krauss points out, there is a continuous experience of the successive perception of the lines (as a per­ spective line in particular), the planes, and the volumes of the created spaces. A continuous generation of the dimensions of space is experienced. For Krauss, this sort of transfer of possibilities from one dimension to another is the recognition that the perception of space implies a constant intuition of depth in potential. This intuitive perception is at the heart of Serra’s sculp­ tural enterprise: “And it does this in the most abstract way possible: by the rotation in and out of depth of a plane” (Krauss 1986, 268). Serra’s sculp­ tures have variable impacts on the collective body, depending on their loca­ tion and the duration of their exhibition. Shift is in a remote city outside Toronto. Clara Clara was temporarily positioned in the centre of Paris, in the Jardin des Tuileries, which remains a largely bourgeois area today. Serra’s most impactful sculpture on the public is the set of curved walls in the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao (although not in open public space), that interrelates with the surrounding architectural shapes. Serra’s work, con­ sidered as a whole, has strongly influenced the field of architecture. Serra’s sculptures, as large plans that simultaneously unite and separate space in our perception, are related in terms of language to the “transitive verb” (Serra 1980, 70; Krauss 1986, 267). Similarly, the distance between two persons, considered by Serra for Shift, unites them through mutual gaze while also dividing them. The concept of Threshold can thus be related to the “transitive verb” in the realm of language.

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Dan Graham’s installations also affect our behaviour. His Pavilions are composed of glass or mirror walls and are located inside exhibition spaces or in the urban environment. He develops a more direct social and political criticism than the works by Nauman and Serra. The materials of Graham’s Pavilions were inspired by office building glass facades. At the same time as critiquing them, he also uses their properties in a surprising new way. Graham’s use of these materials reminds us of Benjamin’s Shock theory. Depending on their configuration, the various Pavilions are suitable for hosting specific social interactions within the urban context in which they are situated. The urban context is reflected in the glass walls and becomes part of the experience. An example is the installation From Boullée to eternity (2006) that was located at the Porte de Versailles in Paris, which relates to the broader context of the aesthetics of the Enlightenment. Through extreme tensions between monumentality and invisibility, infinite space and the space of movement and gesture, Graham’s installation is an experimental playground for a collective engagement with architecture. Graham’s installations in public space crystallise the “collective dream” of both physical and historical contexts. A contemporary example of a public artwork that crystallises the “col­ lective dream” is Interloop (2017), created in Sydney by Australian artist Chris Fox. This sculpture is in a public threshold space and has sophisti­ cated spatial characteristics through the transformation of an historical escalator. Interloop hovers above the York Street escalators of Sydney’s Wynyard railway station. This entrance is a public passage between the interior underground and the exterior ground level. The passage is used daily by many tens of thousands of people, especially those going to and from work in this part of Sydney’s CBD. Through its large scale, people feel that they are in the sculpture’s space. The sculpture, composed of two in­ tertwined strips of remnant escalator that define complex spatial character­ istics, is suspended just above those using the escalators. The intertwined strips are the former timber treads of the original station escalators. For the visitor, this sculpture relates to the moving treads they are travelling on, and to the passage’s whole space. The reuse of historical elements of the original escalators, remembered by Sydneysiders from the past, has an affective im­ pact on people. Post-installation, Fox received numerous messages from people touched to see these timber treads used in the sculpture (Fox 2018b). Computational tools were used to design the shape of the intertwined strips and the necessary elements of assemblage. By combining historical material with contemporary design and assemblage techniques, this installation ex­ presses links between past, present, and future. According to Fox, “whilst paying homage to the past, it also, simultaneously, looks forward to the future … The vast twisting accordion-shaped sculpture reconfigures the heritage escalators into a stitched form” (Fox 2018a). It acts as a metaphor for the transformations of Sydney and, in particular, for the neighbourhood around Wynyard Station and Darling Harbour. The sculpture prompts a

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thought process about the urban fabric and its history. Through its twisted shapes, the sculpture expresses dialectics of continuum (of circulation and movement) and interruption (of the use of the timber treads, and of the shift to computational design tools). Because it is situated in a singular “dream­ like” threshold space, the visitor’s bodily and mental experience of the sculpture is enhanced. Visited regularly by commuting masses, the artwork affects the physical and mental experience of the crowd. Since it acts on the “collective body“ of the Sydneysiders’ community, it has a political meaning.

Threshold spaces as a dispositive, mediating the relation between the visitor’s spatial experience and the context We can observe that an artwork’s potential to impact the collective body depends on the artwork, its location, and its accessibility to the public. The French term Dispositif means “dispositive,” “display,” “device,” or “ap­ paratus.” Michel Foucault identifies things as “dispositive” that have a political meaning as they affect the body and mind. Foucault defines the dispositive as: a thoroughly heterogenous ensemble consisting of discourses, institu­ tions, architectural forms, regulatory decisions, laws, administrative measures, scientific statements, philosophical, moral and philanthropic propositions—in short, the said as much as the unsaid. Such are the elements of the dispositive. The dispositive itself is the system of relations that can be established between these elements … which means assuming that it is a matter of a certain manipulation of relations of forces, either developing them in a particular direction, blocking them, stabilising them, utilising them, etc. The dispositive is thus always inscribed in a play of power, but it is also always linked to certain coordinates of knowledge which issue from it but, to an equal degree, condition it. This is what the dispositive consists in: strategies of relations of forces supporting, and supported by, types of knowledge. (Foucault 1980, 194–196; 1994, 299) The definitions of “metaphor for the changes of the social context” and dis­ positive are similar. The difference between the two is the scale of effect, in that a “metaphor for the changes in the social context” is a technical and aesthetic product of society, which in return has an impact on society, where an artwork can be called a “dispositive” if it has an impact on just a small group of people. Foucault famously defines the Panopticon (theorised by Jeremy Bentham) as a dispositive. The Panopticon is a “metaphor for the changes in the social context,” as, in Surveiller et Punir, Foucault links the political and societal context of the Enlightenment and the Panopticon, the latter being the resulting architectural system of the context (Foucault 2010, 228–264).

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Another difference is that the “metaphor for the change in the social context” has a social impact not only through conscious means but mainly through unconscious means. For example, there is a difference between the experience of someone walking in a Paris Arcade (in a distracted way, ac­ cording to Benjamin) and someone looking at a sculpture in a museum. The person looking at a sculpture is willing to feel, empathise with, and/or react to the meaning of the artwork. That is, the social impact on the viewer is more conscious. The political impact depends on the number of people affected and the types of awareness they experience. In order not to create any confusion with “metaphor for the changes in the social context,” we will use the word “dispositive” when we focus on the characteristics of the artwork. This aligns with how Deleuze considers the Foucauldian dispositive as the concrete part of his concept of “diagram:” The diagram is no longer an auditory or visual archive but a map, a cartography that is coextensive with the whole social field. It is an abstract machine. It is defined by its informal functions and matter and in terms of form makes no distinction between content and expression, a discursive formation and a non-discursive formation. … There are as many diagrams as there are social fields in history. … So, there is a correlation or mutual presupposition between cause and effect, be­ tween abstract machine and concrete arrangements (it is for the latter that Foucault most often reserves the term ‘dispositif’). (Deleuze 1988, 34–37) The dispositives considered above are artworks that prompt a negotiation between public and private space, and/or collective and individual space. The artwork as dispositive has a meta-level of experience: it makes us think about negotiation of space. The sculptures at architectural scale by Nauman, Serra and Fox, are dispositives. The Berlin Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (2005) by Architect Peter Eisenman (and Serra in the early stages of the project) is a dispositive and is considered by some authors a “sociosculptural” architecture because of the spatial experience (negotiation of public/private, and individual/collective space) (Grenzer 2002). This is a perfect example of a “sociosculptural” artwork that is a metonymy of the tragedies of World War II. Examples of threshold spaces as dispositive The study of artwork aids in the development of tools for analysis of what can be termed “sociosculptural” architecture; that is, architecture that is sculptural for the purpose of its function. Buildings that have sculptural qualities are sometimes criticised for this emphasis on aesthetics. The Fundação Serralves and Hoenheim-Nord tram terminus and car park

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exemplify architecture that has the sculptural qualities of threshold spaces that are dispositives. Previously, we saw how Álvaro Siza’s sculptural architecture of the Fundação Serralves is a “sociosculptural” architecture mediating the rela­ tion between the visitor’s space and the physical context. We described how the threshold space of the entrance of the museum orchestrates crossings and encounters between people accessing the museum and people wan­ dering in the garden. Beyond their photogenic qualities, Zaha Hadid’s architecture displays a field of spatial intensities which makes it sculptural. Hadid is known for her very expressive, complex architectural designs that seem unconstrained by gravity. For example, her early project for the Hoenheim-Nord tram ter­ minus and car park (1998), constructed on the outskirts of Strasbourg in 2001, is an open building as sculpture that structures space. This tram terminus is, despite the sobriety of the means employed, a key element in the urbanisation of this area. The terminus is made up of three concrete planes, assembled in a canopy with a shape reminiscent of folded paper, which rests on thin, slightly inclined metal posts. The experience of the building alternates between that of the inhabitable space of the building (where the architectural features define the boundaries of space around the visitor), and that of the open space of the city. These experiences coexist and alternate. The three planes define the architectural space while main­ taining a perceptual link with the environment that is enhanced by per­ spective lines. Constructed in an area that was formerly featureless, the presence of the tram terminus creates spatial polarities. The building entices negotiation between public and private space (the most private practices are the ones of people sitting on their own or in small groups under the canopy with the specific purpose of catching a tram) and collective and individual space (the canopy and platforms foster individual behaviours or small groups, whereas other people are perceived as the public traversing the area). In comparison with a usual tram stations, Hadid’s tram terminus is an architecture as dispositive. As dispositives, some threshold spaces strongly enhance social interactions. In the same way as the sculpture examples we considered above, we can identify sculptural buildings that emphasise the negotiation of public space. Beyond aesthetics, this negotiation has functional benefits in architecture. The topological shapes of the Yokohama Ferry Terminal (YFT) create an array of spaces with sculptural qualities that affect the movement and be­ haviour of the visitors. These sculptural qualities are diverse and variable throughout the YFT. Twists in the deck create complex junctions between interior and exterior. They entice visitors to move around the outer deck and then through the building. Numerous threshold spaces enhance en­ counters between people taking a ferry and people wandering on the deck and through the semi-public spaces of the building. Visitors can regularly negotiate alternating collective and individual experiences. This

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intertwining of spaces of different statuses and usages creates what we have called “tensions” between spaces, enabling social interactions and frictions. The sculptural shapes of the Museo d’Arte Contemporanea di Roma (MACRO) by Odile Decq have a “functional” purpose, creating spatial tensions and introducing new ways of moving through the building. We have already identified architectural qualities in Decq’s designs beyond outward appearances. Decq’s architecture of negotiation and friction in threshold spaces orchestrates encounters and collective events. The MACRO is an architecture as dispositive that particularly enhances social interactions. SANAA’s 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA) displays singular threshold spaces enhancing encounters at the periphery of the mu­ seum. The intertwined public areas and museum zones are designed to pro­ voke interaction between user groups. Above, we mentioned the analysis by Hans Ulrich Obrist, “Similar to Cedric Price’s vision of ‘Magnets,’ these corridors of in-between-ness seem to have the function of ‘triggers,’ that is, they are designed to stimulate new patterns of movement and flow in the museum rather than occupy space” (Obrist and Sejima 2002, 34). And so, we can conclude that the YFT, the Museo d’Arte Contemporanea di Roma (MACRO), and the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA), exemplify architecture as dispositive that strongly enhances social interactions.

Framed views and threshold spaces One version of architecture as dispositive occurs when view cones are conceived as fundamental elements of the architectural project, thus giving a meaning to the relations between different spaces of the architecture. Views can be framed from the exterior or from the interior. That said, views of different spaces work mainly from the interior because of lighting con­ ditions and glass reflection. The practice of framing views relates pre­ dominantly to the artistic component of architecture. The pre-eminence of vision in Western culture and the cross-pollination between the fields of cinema and architecture during the twentieth century have created archi­ tectural experiences based on framed views of the surroundings. Aesthetics of framed views and threshold spaces Framed views create a sense of narrative during a transit along a pathway through a building. A frame to the exterior constructs and deconstructs our vision of the physical context of the building. Interior frames construct and deconstruct our vision of one internal space in relation to the other spaces within the building. Frames can include windows, doors, and other more uncommon frames. According to Anne Faure, a distinction needs to be made between types of windows. She considers two types of experience

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related to two main types of windows: the traditional window of normal proportions favoured by Auguste Perret, and the horizontal window fa­ voured by Le Corbusier. The traditional window is an anthropomorphic window, more closely adapted to the human morphology in a standing position, according to Perret. The limit between interior and exterior is clearly perceived, and the traditional window creates “a spatial and senti­ mental exclusion relation” between the space inhabited by the visitor and the space situated behind the window (Reichlin 1987, 122). The experience is clearly one of a threshold. In contrast, Le Corbusier’s long horizontal window erases the threshold (Reichlin 1987). Through the horizontal window, space is experienced as continuous between interior and exterior. For example, Faure identifies similarities between the experience of the large Corbusian windows used by Rem Koolhaas and the immersive ex­ perience of cinema (Faure 2011). Outward views are not solely determined by the shape and orientation of a window. The framing created by a window needs to be considered in the context of the spatial organisation of the architecture, and the visitor’s journey through the building. Thresholds can then be defined by a combi­ nation of the visitor’s journey, the interior space, the frame, the outer space, and the framed exterior elements. These aesthetic spatial choices affect people and prompt thought processes about the framed views. Frank Lloyd Wright (1867–1959) was a major pioneer of the design of framed views. Numerous studies describe the succession and coexistence of frames in his architecture towards the interior and of the exterior landscape (Ostwald and Dawes 2020). Wright defines “organic” architecture in his article In the Cause of Architecture as “architecture that develops from within outwards in harmony with the conditions of its being as dis­ tinguished from one that applied from without” (Wright 1914, 406). Wright designed architectural shapes that expanded interior space and in­ tertwined it with exterior space. This practice was influenced by screens that frame views in Japanese architecture and by his desire to anchor his architecture in distinctive American landscapes, in particular those land­ scapes of the American Southwest. Wright’s architecture as “spatial con­ ception of interpenetrating planes and abstract masses” influenced the development of Western architecture and its international spread in the twentieth century (Curtis 1996, 113). Architecture became an instrument of vision of the landscape or cityscape, through singular spatial characteristics that intertwined interior and exterior. In Composition, non-composition, Jacques Lucan described the tendency for porous partitions and view cones to prevail in modern architecture, as well as the ways in which Wright, Le Corbusier, and other modernist architects have influenced the field of architecture from the early twentieth century until the present day (Lucan 2009). Choreographing passages through architecture while staging specific view cones for each space of a building is, in some ways, a generalisation of the idea of Threshold Architecture.

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An example of framed views and threshold spaces as an experience of the collective dream of Berlin’s history A recent example of architecture as dispositive based on frames is the Dutch Embassy in Berlin, constructed by OMA/Rem Koolhaas1 in 2003. The views from interior corridors sight several buildings in the city (TV tower, Altes Stadthaus, a National Socialist building) and several elements of the natural landscape, such as the Spree River, in a montage of architectural frames. The historical context of Berlin influences the experience of the building. This Embassy is composed of private spaces for the embassy’s adminis­ tration and the ambassador, and by semi-private spaces for people engaged in administrative procedures or invited to events and gatherings. While this building is not a public space, embassies in general are public symbols in cities. Even though the spiral pathway is not a public space, it recalls Benjamin’s writings on the experience of the Arcades. Koolhaas, a screenwriter for the cinema as well as an architect, created an architecture that is influenced by cinematic montage (Kimmel 2012). The succession of framed views participates in the spatial and temporal meaning of cinematic-like experience. Through this montage, the visitor sees the city as a series of fragments. Koolhaas’s architectural promenade produces a narrative that relates to the history of Berlin, especially of the Wall, which he started researching in 1971 (Koolhaas 1997a; Koolhaas 1997b). Koolhaas’ design process revolves around the concept of emptiness in Berlin, in reference to the void created after World War II (the loss of people and physical voids after the destruction of buildings and construction of the wall). By developing this research on the concept of void, he produces a synthesis of the urban morphology of the Berlin “block” with its interior void, and the Modern building in the middle of the plot. The outcome is an intertwining of volumes and voids. Koolhaas radically opposes any prin­ ciple of facade composition and fosters the experience of the building as a passage (of the visitor, and of the view). These passages are organised in a spiral path, which starts in the basement and ends on the terrace. The city enters physically and perceptually into the building (physically through an access ramp, and perceptually through corridors and windows) in a suc­ cession of carved “voids” functioning as cones of vision (Yaneva 2009). These voids constitute the cones of vision on the several above-mentioned elements. The history of the city becomes architectural material. The city of Berlin symbolically “enters” the building and becomes the primary subject of the experience of the building. The Embassy embodies negotiation be­ tween collective and individual space: individuals in the spiral pathway and the collective of people of the embassy; individual Dutch citizens in the “collective body” of Berliners, and any individual visitor engaging with the symbolic images of the collective history of Berlin. Through the intertwining of interior and exterior, and the embodiment of negotiation, we can see that the pathway is singular and forms a series of threshold spaces. The Embassy’s

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thresholds have the function of simultaneously connecting the visitor with exterior objects and separating the visitor physically from the viewed exterior items. This combination of connection and separation enables critical thinking through the bodily experience of threshold spaces and frames. The social meaning relies mainly on the symbolic or indexical signs pointed by the frames. Koolhaas creates a dispositive of thought about the city, and more broadly the German history of the twentieth century.2

Museums as threshold spaces around art Having considered sculptures and sculptural architecture that connect and, concomitantly, separate the visitor physically from viewed exterior items, it is possible to envision museums in a different way. Museums can be considered as an array of threshold spaces that both connect and separate the visitors from the exhibited artwork. In so doing, the architecture of museums directs our vision and prompts critical thinking through the experience of artworks in architectural spaces. Artworks can be of different types, some being more sitespecific than others, and thus more spatially related to architecture. In the case of a site-specific artwork, architecture and artwork are necessarily inter­ twined. The combination of artwork and architecture functions as an array of threshold spaces. Artworks can be considered as media of collective dreams that deal with dialectics of the social context, and the architecture orchestrates visitors’ bodily and mental experiences. The array of artworks can be considered as the hyper-singular core of a museum. The Centre Pompidou, Fundação Serralves, Fundação Iberê Camargo, MACRO, 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, and Shrem Museum of Art can be considered Threshold Architectures that intertwine the hyper-singular experience of artworks and public space. The architecture of the museum is a mediator between the artworks and the public, in public (or semi-public) space.3

Threshold Architecture as Pharmakon The manner in which we have considered museums leads us to differently consider all Threshold Architecture that combines and intertwines a Semiprivate Complex part and public space. Pharmakon is defined in Greek phi­ losophy as a composite of three meanings: remedy, poison, and scapegoat. We shall leave the third meaning aside. The first and second senses refer to the everyday meaning of pharmacology, deriving from the Greek source term phármakon, denoting any drug. A pharmakon produces an effect, in our case an effect on the visitor. Bernard Stiegler analyses the application of the con­ cept of pharmakon to any technical objects. All technique is ambivalent, being both an instrument of emancipation and alienation (Stiegler 2010, 19; Simay 2021). This idea can be applied to some artworks and architecture.

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The Dutch Embassy in Berlin is an architecture that frames different symbols of the traumatic history of Berlin. The Embassy’s architecture as dispositive works like a Pharmakon by connecting visitors with the symbols of Berlin’s traumatic history, and at the same time, separates visitors from these symbols via frames and corridors as thresholds. For museums, when exhibition spaces lead to artworks that deal with tragedies and crises, the exhibition spaces act as buffer zones that create distance between artwork and visitor. That is, museum threshold spaces act as Pharmaka. Threshold Architecture intertwining Semi-private Complex spaces and public space can also be considered as a pharmakon, because like the pharmakon, it embodies contradictory effects. Threshold Architecture is a physical, mental, or behavioural setting that can be responsible for changes in individual and collective consciousness.

Notes 1 OMA is an architectural and urban planning agency, led by seven partner ar­ chitects: Rem Koolhaas, Ellen van Loon, Reinier de Graaf, Shohei Shigematsu, Iyad Alsaka, David Gianotten, Chris van Duijn and Jason Long. The agencies are located in Rotterdam, New York, Beijing, Hong Kong, Doha, Dubai, and Australia. In this chapter, I highlight Rem Koolhaas, who was particularly in­ volved in the design work of the Dutch Embassy in Berlin. 2 Koolhaas has developed similar research in other cities and social contexts and has applied his research to architecture in these specific contexts. The example of the city of New York is his most iconic research. Koolhaas aims to elicit paradigm shifts in society through architectural means (Koolhaas 1978). 3 We could note that museums are less attractive to the public than shopping centres (as hyper-semi-private architecture), but the gap seems to close itself in some cases of sensational exhibitions.

References Curtis, William J. R. Modern Architecture since 1900. London: Phaidon, 1996. Deleuze, Gilles. Foucault. London, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988. Faure, Anne. “Le Cadrage comme Outil de Perception: la Villa Lemoîne de Rem Koolhaas.” In Biserna, Elena and Brown, Precious, eds. Cinéma, Architecture, Dispositif. Pasian di Prato: Campanotto Editore, 2011. 180–183. Foucault, Michel. “Le Jeu de Michel Foucault (1977).” In Dits et écrits, vol. III. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. 298–329. Foucault, Michel. “The Confession of the Flesh.” In Gordon, Colin, ed. Foucault: Power/Knowledge: selected interviews and other writings 1972–1977. New York: Pantheon Books, 1980. 194–228. Foucault, Michel. Surveiller et Punir (1975). Paris: Gallimard, 2010. Fox, Chris. “For the Love of Art.” Presentation during the festival Raising the Bar. Sydney (2018b). Fox, Chris. “Interloop.” In Chris Fox website. 2018a. 14 April 2021 https:// chrisfox.com.au/interloop/.

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Grenzer, Elke. “The Topographies of Memory in Berlin: the Neue Wache and the Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe.” In Canadian Journal of Urban Research 11:1 (2002), 93–110. Kimmel, Laurence. “Un Bâtiment comme Appareil de Vision d’une Multiplicité d’Images-Fragments du Paysage et de l’Histoire de Berlin.” In Appareil. 2012. 14 April 2021 http://journals.openedition.org/appareil/1395. Koolhaas, Rem. “Imagining Nothingness.” In Koolhaas, Rem, and Mau, Bruce. SMLXL. New York: Monacelli, 1997a. 54. Koolhaas, Rem. “The Terrifying Beauty of the Twentieth Century.” In Koolhaas, Rem, and Mau, Bruce. SMLXL. New York: Monacelli, 1997b. 204–211. Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious New York. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978. Krauss, Rosalind. The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths. Cambridge, London: The MIT Press, 1986. Lucan, Jacques. Composition, Non-composition—Architecture et Théories, XIXe – XXe siècles. Lausanne: Presses Polytechniques Romandes, 2009. Obrist, Hans Ulrich, and Sejima, Kazuyo. “Sanaa on Kanazawa: Roving Curator Hans Ulrich Obrist Catches up with Kazuyo Sejima of Sanaa Architects.” In Make 92 (January 2002), 34–35. Ostwald, Michael J., Dawes, Michael J. “The Spatio-Visual Geometry of the Hollyhock House: A Mathematical Analysis of the ‘Wright Space’ using Isovist Fields.” In Nexus Network Journal 22 (2020), 211–228. Reichlin, Bruno. “La ‘petite maison’ à Corseaux. Une Analyse Structurale.” In Le Corbusier à Genève 1922– 1932. Projets et Réalisations. Lausanne: Payot, 1987. 122–134. Serra, Richard. “Interview: Richard Serra and Liza Bear.” In Richard Serra: Interviews, etc.; 1970–1980. New York: Yonkers, The Hudson River Museum, 1980. 65–73. Simay, Philippe. “Vers une Thérapeutique des Ambiances.” In L’Usage des Ambiances – une épreuve Sensible des Situations. Paris: Hermann, 2021. 49–58. Stiegler, Bernard. What Makes Life Worth Living: On Pharmacology. Cambridge, UK: Polity, 2010. Walther, Franz Erhard. “Der Andere Werkbegriff (The other conception of (art) work).” In Romain, Lothar, ed. Bis jetzt. Von der Vergangenheit zur Gegenwart, Plastik im Außenraum der Bundesrepublik. München: Hirmer, 1990. 327. Wright, Frank Lloyd. “In the Cause of Architecture.” In Architectural Record (May 1914), 405–413. Yaneva, Albena. Made by the Office for Metropolitan Architecture: An Ethnography of Design. Rotterdam: 010 Uitgeverij, 2009.

14 Design principles of Threshold Architecture, and theoretical implications

Does this research on threshold spaces have practical applications, and can we propose arguments in favour of including these spaces in design? The previous chapters do not seek to present universal arguments for the design of threshold spaces. Nevertheless, depending on the physical and programmatic context, arguments can be made for the inclusion of thresholds in design if appropriate to the specific context. Threshold spaces as metaphors for changes in society may exist through an unconscious or diffuse collective dynamic. Thus, no purposed approach to building a threshold space ensures that an impactful threshold space will result. Impact on the crowd is a parameter that designers cannot fully control.

Fundamental principle of Thresholds: Relational Autonomy In previous chapters, a recurrent principle appeared in our exploration of various examples of architectures and artworks through the lens of the concept of Thresholds: “relational autonomy.” The concept of “relational autonomy” was defined in the humanities in the 1980s, in particular in the medical care sector. In his article “Relational Autonomy, Liberal Individualism, and the Social Constitution of Selves,” John Christman generalised the concept to social life: Philosophical suspicion of the normative presuppositions of liberalism has often focused on the alleged hyper-individualism of the conception of autonomy and the autonomous person operating at its centre. Communitarians, feminists, theorists of identity politics, and others have claimed in different ways that the model of the autonomous agent upon which liberal principles are built assumes a conception of human identity, value, and commitment which is blind to the embeddedness of our self-conceptions, the fundamentally relational nature of our motivations, and the overall social character of our being. Feminists have been especially vocal in the claim that the idea of autonomy central to liberal politics must be reconfigured so as to be more sensitive to relations of care, interdependence, and mutual support that define DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-14

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A concept of Threshold Architecture our lives, and which have traditionally marked the realm of the feminine. Emerging from this discussion is a view of the autonomous person that is structured so as to fully embrace this social conception of the self. ‘Relational autonomy’ is the label that has been given to an alternative conception of what it means to be a free, self-governing agent who is also socially constituted and who possibly defines her basic value commitments in terms of interpersonal relations and mutual dependencies. (Christman 2004, 143)

So, when it comes to human interactions and social life, relationality is key. The question is then which kind of relations are prompted by threshold spaces? “Variations of intensities,” that have been discussed in previous chapters require a certain continuity of space and, at the same time, a distinction between spaces. Given the benefits of linking public buildings to public space described in previous chapters, thresholds enhance public space and prompt social interaction.1 The concept of Threshold is underpinned by relational autonomy in terms of spatial characteristics and relations between people. In threshold spaces, there is a relation between spaces, and at the same time, a certain autonomy between spaces. There are visual links between people and possibilities for people to interact, and at the same time, a certain autonomy between individuals or groups of people outside, inside, or in the threshold. The relational autonomy of threshold spaces is about relations. Threshold design requires spatial openness and functional openness appropriate to the context (cultural context, size and density of the city, connection with surroundings), to the programme (size and function of the building) and the chosen aesthetics of spaces. Design of threshold spaces should be developed keeping in mind the way the spaces will affect people, including effects such as enabling and prompting improvised interactions between people, and enabling the reconfiguration of people’s presence, movement, and action, as individuals, groups, and collectives. Relational autonomy is also about autonomy. Firstly, spatial autonomy, since thresholds are spatially delineated through porous partitions. Secondly, architectural identity, defined through similarities and differences in relation to the contiguous public interiors and potentially also the openair public space. Architectural details are important when they affect the two aspects of spatial relationality and spatial autonomy. The level of detail and amount of furniture can sometimes weaken the spatial characteristics of architecture, but some designers manage to make details and the presence of multiple items of furniture coexist with spatial “clarity.” We saw this in the example of SANAA’s 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, where technical details play a major role in the perception of space (Chapter 4). In

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this example, SANAA’s subtle aesthetics are embedded in large-scale partitions and in the “micro-singularities” of the resolution of details. There is value in relational autonomy for: • • • • • • •

architecture for culture some services areas and retail shops age-specific architecture (for youth, the elderly, and so on) architecture for intimate practices architecture for death-related practices in the context of counter-terrorism strategies, and more generally, for the link between a building for a community and public space.

In all of these cases, “relational autonomy” is a core aspect that displays subtle variations in specific cases and in specific contexts. The list above is not exhaustive and there are other potential functions that could benefit from threshold spaces. What is apparent from the underpinning concept of relational autonomy is the benefit that threshold spaces represent for relations between groups or communities. This is particularly so for the benefits for people in need and marginal communities. This key idea of community benefit will be developed more fully in the next chapter.

Design principles for threshold spaces This section summarises a number of design principles that recurred in previous chapters. For clarity, at the risk of being slightly reductive, these will be discussed generally without considering exceptions. The design process for threshold spaces of a public building should preferably consider the multiple scales of particular spaces. There are general principles for dimensioning and spacing elements of public space (on a macro scale) which differ from principles for the dimensioning and spacing elements of threshold spaces and interiors (on a micro-scale) (Varna and Tiesdell 2010, 586). Threshold spaces display more “nooks” and subspaces than public space does, usually defined by furniture, such as a welcome desk or a coffee counter. The successful development of a public building threshold requires continued consideration of the multiple scales of spaces throughout the design process. The scale of spaces, the location of spaces in relation to one another, links to the surrounding context, and the type of passage and views from one to another, all need to be considered, in the context of a specific programme and other aspects of the social context. Best practice for considering the links of design with the social aspects of the programme and of the wider context for the design of threshold spaces relies on standard, site-specific architectural methodologies. There are no definite themes or design stages required for successful expression of the dialectics of the context. The better approach is to consider pertinent

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elements of the context and appropriateness and accuracy of their translation in the final design. There are two slightly different approaches to considering the context for the design process: •

•

Trying to embrace aspects of the general socio-political context during the design process. The aim is to ensure the socio-political context influences the design of the building as much as possible to create a singular building that can respond to the social context. This is a choice and not a necessity. Embracing aspects of a particular part of the social context—for example, the aspects visible in the close surroundings. This part of the social context can, consciously or unconsciously, relate to the broader socio-political context.

Diagramming tools help manage large, complex sets of information about context. Instead of applying an architectural programme rationalistically as a list of spaces, it is worth using a tool that can create a sketch-like representation of dialectics as “fields of forces” that “apply” to architecture. Diagramming tools (either analogue or digital) enable representations of presence (including potential group or collective presence), movements, usages, view cones, and additional qualitative information. Diagramming enables designers to check the functional openness of public space and the representation of frictions between people. 3D computational design is a tool that can provide a dynamic, sketch-like representation of “fields of forces” and their translation in design. Some existing computer tools not only model a flow of people like particles in a pipe but also consider the dynamics of subgroups and other human behaviours. The future of digital modelling of people’s movement and behaviour, if appropriately developed and used, is very promising for addressing interactions between people in spaces. To meet the goals for thresholds outlined through this work, it is best to use tools for designing spatial thresholds that work in three dimensions (Boettger 2014). Using these tools, the social aspects are translated into architecture’s spatial organisations. The spatial approach comprises the 3D-mapping of adjacencies and intertwining of spaces to avoid rationalist partitioning and the erasure of boundaries. This spatial design process, because it is based on a visitors’ perception of space, helps avoid the current pre-eminence of stylistic and photogenic approaches, such as architectural “facadism.” A spatial focus in the design process can be achieved by considering a topology of envelopes. An approach using 3D envelopes keeps designers aware of spaces during the design process. Instead of using computer tools that prioritise the exterior viewpoint on (usually) sketched cubes as objects (a shortcoming of the 3D drawing interface), the spatial approach requires tools that focus on a visitor’s perception of spaces. To take a spatial approach, an appropriate use of existing digital design tools, such as

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Sketchup, Rhinoceros, Archicad, or Vectorworks, requires alternate views from both the interiors and exteriors of spaces. Some techniques, like the use of semi-transparent ghosting of envelopes, also enable this coexistence of two viewpoints. The envelopes approach is especially useful during the first stages of the design process. In the future, it should be easier to design sketch-like envelopes (that are not squares) with digital design tools. An emphasis on the spatial design process rather than the objective approach of architecture may well inspire the technical evolution of existing design tools. It would prove greatly beneficial if these future tools could refine envelopes’ boundaries and geometry continuously. If this capability was available in computer design tools, it could minimise the way design is determined by flaws in 3D drawing interfaces. As we discussed in Chapter 11, robotic partitioning has potential for the future of design of architectural boundaries. Considering transient partitioning, including robotic partitioning, during the design process, requires representation tools that embrace seasonal, daily, or continuous dynamism. Digital tools are more likely to appropriately embrace these dynamics. 3D representations of dynamic envelopes, rather than just plans and sections, are favoured. An easy shift from 3D to plan and section would be even better.

Threshold Architecture in relation to other categories of architecture These design principles for threshold spaces allow us to identify Threshold Architecture as a category of architecture. The Threshold Architecture category can be compared to other “landmark” categories that have a political impact. Threshold Architecture is thus a “landmark” in the landscape of various architectural strategies. The list of categories below may not be exhaustive; however, it presents four types of spatial strategies that help situate and define Threshold Architecture in the landscape. No threshold: Autonomous Architecture The firstcategory we should consider is Autonomous Architecture, defined as the creation of a subsystem that does not rely on the ruling socio-political system, and that can evolve in autarky. This category of architecture influences some contemporary “political” architecture. In some contexts, there is a legitimate reason to create urban planning based on this idea. Political autonomy is usually presented as valid or appropriate at the scale of a territory or of urban planning (Lahiji 2016). Autonomy at architectural scale is a principle contrary to the concept of Threshold. The practice and research of DOGMA (Pier Vittorio Aureli and Martino Tattara) exemplifies the defence of the idea of autonomy as separation of the building from public space. Aureli’s thesis, published as The Project of Autonomy: Politics and Architecture Within and Against

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Capitalism (2008), offers a manifesto that establishes autonomy as the real critical practice. Between conceptual positioning and formalism, “In the eyes of many of its major proponents, from Italy to the United States, autonomy went with an ideal of criticality” (Picon 2010, 47). For Aureli, the physical separation from public space is the expression of the autonomy of the architectural discipline. The withdrawal of architecture from public space means there is no positive reason to connect buildings with public space or a possibility for architecture to enhance public space. Disabling public free access to interiors is a pessimistic approach to public space. The view that thresholds should not be encouraged is a wish for concealment of space which presents risks discussed in previous chapters. Given we consider that publicly accessible architecture is desirable and possible, we can see that an autonomy of architecture approach provides no advantages in terms of usage and functioning of public space. Autonomy may present a conceptual advantage, as a manifesto and provocation; however, it is not a positive and constructive approach since Autonomous Architecture destroys the social relations that could contribute to resisting capitalism. A key critique of DOGMA’s radical viewpoint is that it is mainly formalism. In the essay “Toward the Archipelago,” Aureli identified Mies van der Rohe’s Federal Centre in Chicago as an island in the city, that “constitutes one of the highest examples of absolute architecture, for [these architectures as islands] make clear its separateness, provoking the agonistic experience of the city. The city made of agonistic parts is the archipelago” (Aureli 2011, 42). According to Gerard Reinmuth and Andrew Benjamin, “the broader relational context therefore remains unthought. At play here is an aesthetic rather than an ontological state of affairs” (Reinmuth and Benjamin 2020, 98–99). “The radical indifference to programmatic concerns and its attendant project of space-creation refuses the possibility of even the creation of interstitial spaces that recalibrate programmatic demands” (Reinmuth and Benjamin 2020, 104). In critiquing DOGMA, Reinmuth and Benjamin defend what they call “Autonomy-within relationality.” As a Benjaminian philosopher, Andrew Benjamin defends the principle of relationality in a way that is aligned with Walter Benjamin’s writings: What we suggest is the necessity to acknowledge the ubiquity of relationality, while allowing for autonomy understood as the suspension of predominating logic at work within a given network of relations. That is, to work in the market is to acknowledge predominating logic and accept the need to work with them, leaving in play the possibility of a limited autonomy — a form of aikido that results from making judgments about the terms of engagement with this logic and redirecting them in some way. We call this approach autonomy within relationality. (Reinmuth and Benjamin 2020, 105)

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However, the counterexamples given by Reinmuth and Benjamin, such as buildings by Peter Eisenman, are similarly based on architectural shapes rather than use. The approach through shapes makes every opening towards outside appear as a surrender towards a context that is rejected. In Aureli’s argument, autonomy is a rejection of the capitalist context that, according to him, one cannot negotiate with. The potential advantage of architectural autonomy, which can be considered with reference to Walter Benjamin’s writings, is the Shock it creates and the conceptual provocation it constitutes for a visitor. This Shock, and the awareness it potentially creates in people, could lead to political change. This describes a scenario, because it affects the crowd, that is political. No threshold: example of an autonomous approach through unowned property One artist who exemplifies strategies of autonomy is Maria Eichhorn, with her critical viewpoint on the financial crisis and its effect on public and private space. The agonistic gesture in the case of Eichhorn’s artwork is to remove a plot of land and its house totally from the market and make it “unowned.” It is a conceptual artwork that uses the concept of threshold in an original manner. Eichhorn set up an empty house as a public sculpture, Building as Unowned Property, in Athens as part of documenta 14 (2017). Her intent was to reveal the dialectics of the socio-political context. Eichhorn described and documented the purchase of a heritage house in Athens in order to remove it from the market and stop the speculation process around the property (Eichhorn 2017). Building as Unowned Property is a work in progress. Eichhorn’s artwork consists of converting the status of the building into that of unowned property. Acting within the existing Greek legal framework, the property is designated for public use, to be legally converted into a property that de facto does not belong to anyone. Once its status has been changed in this way, the building will exist in the city much in the same way that a sculpture does in public space, disputing fixed notions of public and private property vis-à-vis the impact of the economic crisis on the urban space. (Szymczyk 2017) At first, there appears to be a “threshold aspect” in Eichhorn’s conceptual process. The process of Building as Unowned Property acts from outside and within the market to critique the market. This occurs at the threshold of the market. The pure version of this idea is impossible, as there is always an entity that owns the land in the actual system (whether a City Council, State or Federal Government), when it becomes public property. The aim of

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a potential unowned property is to create value for no one in particular and at the same time for the public, that is, for everyone. However, the process is mainly one of agonistic removal of a plot of land from public space and from private space. The dynamics of public space are stopped in the case of the intermediate state of the closed house, even if the house is materially maintained. While it is locked, the building becomes neither “institutional public space” nor “insurgent public space” (Hou 2012, 97). Having a closed house and inaccessible garden as public space is not aligned with the function of public space inherited from the nearby Ancient Greek Agora. The concept of the artwork initiates a thought process about the actual economic and political situation. In this sense, the artwork creates another kind of public space when it is discussed by the public, referring to the discussions and debates that were happening on the Ancient Agora. According to Jürgen Habermas, public talks act like the unfolding of a public sphere when individuals can come together in free discourse and identify societal problems, and through that discussion influence political action (Habermas 1989). Public debate acts like the interface between the conceptual sense of the artwork and the economical action on reality. Even if the political action of acquisition for public or unowned property is not realised, the conceptual potential of the artistic process is at its highest in this intermediate state of the artwork. This artwork exemplifies how autonomy does not solve social issues and does not give a solution to the subsistence of public space, but provokes people and potentially prompts action. No threshold: Open and Fluid architecture The second category is Open and Fluid architecture, that is, architecture that is spatially so open and circulation so fluid that spaces are not distinguishable. Open and Fluid architecture creates homogeneous space. This is political because of the absence of frictions between people (a more insidious effect on the politics of a city). Open and Fluid architecture is an extreme counterpoint to excessive segregation; it also has negative implications for public life. Examples of this type are less critically analysed in academic literature, and any critique of them is made more difficult because of the moral values of spatial openness (and other values mentioned in chapter 12). No threshold: Semi-private Complex architecture, including phantasmagorias The third category is Semi-private Complex architecture. The adjective “complex” means that multiple entities that regulate, watch, own, or lease the spaces (for example, retail shops and brands), define the sense of the spaces. People perceive and are affected by injunctions, expectations, and

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constraints imposed by these different entities. The injunctions can have the mask of attractive displays, architectural shapes, and atmospheres. Semiprivate Complex architecture expresses the contradictory requirements of society in such an intense and complex way that the freedom of a visitor disappears. Semi-private Complex architecture, especially when it is pervasive, has an impact that is of a different nature to Threshold Architecture. It imposes an organisational system on people and captures them in the manufactureddream linked to the aim of the building. These buildings are efficient at capturing people in the logic of the ruling class or mainstream. An increase in the intensity of the dialectics of the social context (with the increase of capitalism), leads to more Semi-private Complex buildings. Since the building is publicly accessible, there is an illusion of public space intruding into the building, but the overlaying of semi-private “circles” (similar to those in Figure 2.2 from Chapter 2) influences the sense of space and erases any semi-public space, thus erasing any threshold space. Semi-private Complex architectures are usually megacomplexes that connect and intersect different functions. They are usually connected to transport infrastructure. Today, examples of Semi-private Complex architecture include airports (Koolhaas 1995; Degoutin and Wagon 2018), shopping centres or amusement parks (Berdet 2014), and other megacomplexes. Airports, for example, exert such an expression of extreme dialectics that the visitor has no free agency in these spaces, and the existence of a threshold space is impossible. The airport is a Semi-private Complex architecture because of all the constraints and logic in play that impact its spatial organisation. Stéphane Degoutin and Gwenola Wagon used performance art to unveil these dialectics. Here is an extract of their findings: The international airport concentrates several promises of our civilisation: instantaneous circulation, unlimited consumption, total rationalisation, absolute surveillance. It embodies the ambition to master the world. But it is also the place where these promises come up against their contradictions. The promise of traffic clashes with the fear of an accident or the threat of an attack. … To keep its promises of fluidity, the airport is becoming ever more clustered, since fluid circulates better in a pipe without holes. The thwarted dream of perfect mobility then resolves itself into widespread surveillance. But this comes up against the impossibility of completely cancelling out the danger. … The airport is the place of a permanent one-upmanship: ever more traffic entails ever more risk, which requires ever more monitoring, which always gives rise to rationalisation, which calls for ever more relaxation in ever more spas, and which encourages them to relieve themselves by always more shopping. ‘Crystal palace’ for contemporary traffic, the airport concentrates contradictions. It links fluidity and prohibitions… … The energy expended in countering terror only fuels the imagination of terror. (Degoutin and Wagon 2018, 11, 16, 100)

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Like Degoutin and Wagon’s descriptions of the negative consequences of the contradictory requirements for airports, Semi-private Complex architectures are generally assessed negatively in terms of their potential for emancipation. Semi-private Complex architectures can be considered as “symptoms” of a capitalist society that controls the public through physical features and psychological means. These architectures do not usually enable agency and do not relate to any resistance strategy. The dream these architectures support is a manufactured dream for commercial benefit. There is a distinction between the emancipatory dream and the manufactured consumerist dream that has a determined and controlled purpose, such as purchasing an airplane ticket to reach a dream destination. In the example of the semi-private core of the YFT, the consumerist dream is to purchase a ferry ticket to cross the sea and reach a dream destination. Alternatively, an optimistic view inspired by Benjamin’s Shock theory could also make us consider Semi-private Complex architectures differently. When Semi-private Complex buildings create a Shock, the “crisis of the experience” (see Chapter 3) creates an awareness of social interactions and the socioeconomic context. For example, the intense manipulation of people and constraints on people orchestrated by the spatial layout and different functions and signages prompts a reaction. When aiming at social benefits, the positive assessment of a Semi-private Complex architecture is, in my opinion, rarely positive. Threshold Architecture can display a complex array of semiprivate spaces, but public space prevails When we look back at the examples we identified as Threshold Architecture that attracted the public, we can see that they all have a semi-private core and that they are all intruded on by public space. Some of the semi-private cores encapsulated a consumerist dream. Through vistors’ freedom of action and thought in nearby public space, the consumerist dream changes and becomes a “creative emancipatory dream.” Public space is the place of freedom, to think and to act, that enables the visitor to avoid being captured in the tensions of the semi-private “core.” This “functioning” of Threshold Architecture has been described in various examples: • • • •

The Yokohama Ferry Terminal intertwines a classical ferry terminal with public space. The Lockhart River retail shop intertwines a classical retail shop with public space. The CMG Qianhai Global Trade Centre intertwines a megacomplex and the public “three-dimensional trajectory” and Skybridge. The different museums considered in previous chapters intertwine public space with the space in which we experience the dialectics of

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the artworks. Although the space of the artwork is not a Semi-private Complex, as we saw in Chapter 13, the core of the museum comprises “hyper-singular” artworks dealing with the dialectics of the social context. Threshold Architecture can be situated in relation to the architecture categories above: •

•

Unlike Autonomous Architecture, Threshold Architecture relates to a resistance strategy without opting for autonomy from the sociopolitical system. Unlike Semi-private Complex architecture, Threshold Architecture enables agency, because of the importance of semi-public space and the link to public space.

These conclusions regarding Threshold Architecture show that Threshold Architecture is related to the concept of the pharmakon discussed in Chapter 13. Since Semi-private Complex architectures can be considered as “symptoms” of a capitalist society, Threshold Architecture can be considered as a mild “symptom” of the dialectics of society. Threshold Architecture is a cure, and at the same time a remedy, thanks to the preeminence of public space and the freedom it allows. Threshold Architecture being considered as a pharmakon confirms that the effect of Threshold Architecture is ambivalent and depends on each context. Even if we did not identify architectures that are major contemporary metaphors for changes in society, the various examples of Threshold Architecture we discussed can be considered as metaphors for (more local) changes in communities. They create effects on visitors for the duration of their experience, and can affect communities in the longer term.

Threshold Architecture as resistance and Threshold Architecture as adaptation Threshold Architecture simultaneously connects and separates. Threshold Architecture has been mainly depicted as a resistance strategy in this book; however, the positive or negative assessment of its political impact depends on each context. According to Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, there is no such thing as a solution, in terms of the infrastructure of social life, to the tragic developments of contemporary societies. According to Kacem, “banishment” is the major (and maybe the best) response to the “structure of adaptation to Capital.” Banishment (mise au ban in French) relates to those who are on the margins of Capital, in a position of “exclusive inclusion, or inclusive exclusion” (Kacem 2006). This position can be related to the concept of Threshold. The interest we have is

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that “banishment” can then be considered as a resistance strategy to Capital, or its opposite, that is, adaptability to Capital. According to Kacem, finding a balanced strategy between resistance and adaptation is, tragically, impossible. No (architectural) strategy could be a remedy to the structures of adaptation to Capital and exclusion from Capital. But architecture, like art, according to Lacoue-Labarthe, tries to find the best strategy through the “improper” or “unclean,” which relate to the concept of singularity we discussed: Art is always the invention of an improper, to arrive at an appropriation. This is about bringing the clean into the unclean and showing this very conflict. It works like the paradox: the more I deprive myself to appropriate myself, the less I manage to appropriate myself, or the more I effectively deprive myself. This mechanism, which is ideally an effective dialectical mechanism, cannot be successful. And the great adventure of modern art is to understand this impossibility. The dynamic of ‘I deprive myself to appropriate myself’ is stopped. This is the very mechanism of madness. (Lacoue-Labarthe 2005, 130)2 At least, by trying the “improper” strategy of Threshold Architecture, society avoids the consequences of the structure of social tragedy: excessive constraint or excessive freedom. “Tragedy has a political function, purging the two fundamental affects of sociability: - pity, which is the propensity for fusion, and - terror, which is the propensity for separation. As in all tragedies, only one law dominates, no balance has been sought between the two.” (Kacem 2020) The consequences of excessive freedom (under the aspiration of fusion) and excessive partitioning (under the assignment of terror) have been described in Chapters 11 and 12. Threshold Architecture is an imperfect but balanced resistance strategy to tackle the dialectics of social psychic life. As mentioned at the beginning of the book in reference to Rancière, the “sheer pace of the differences in intensity” of the threshold spaces cures any (excessive) “social fever.” By trying to avoid total openness or total separation, Threshold Architecture may become a resistance strategy, or might fail to do so, and become a strategy for adaptation (to Capital, the ruling class, or the mainstream). Singapore, Hong Kong, and Bangkok have interconnected threshold spaces that do not necessarily ensure democracy. If the resistance

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strategy fails, and a Threshold Architecture becomes an adaptation strategy rather than a resistance strategy, then maybe that Autonomous Architecture is the best political strategy.

Resistance through a network of threshold spaces When isolated, the impact of threshold space and Threshold Architecture on the life of people is quite small. Making a resistance strategy successful may have to involve an ensemble of projects. The Arcades are not isolated but connected. There may be a lesson from the way the Arcades have been planned in Paris. The Arcades have a major impact on the life of Parisians of the nineteenth century, because they are not only one building, but a series of buildings, in sometimes adjacent Parisian blocks. As a generalisation of the network strategy of the threshold spaces in Dalston by muf (Chapter 8), a network of threshold spaces in the city can enhance civic life better than one threshold space. The intentions, logic, and impact of the threshold spaces are enhanced when set in a network. The network can be created through existing circulation paths, or new circulation paths created in the context of the project. The urban scale of this array of threshold spaces can be like that of the Arcades. The idea of an archipelago of threshold spaces is set in opposition to the idea of autonomous, island-like buildings. We seek a richness and variety of spaces that is similar to the one identified by Benjamin and Lãcis in the streets of Naples. Is there a contemporary innovation or enrichment in contemporary threshold spaces? In contrast with the strategy of autonomous architecture, DOGMA uses another strategy called Confetti (DOGMA 2021, 17). A Confetti is a small-scale architectural intervention in the project site, at the scale of an urban room. The type of Confetti favoured by DOGMA is the Platform, an elevated and formally delimited public square. Through the design of Confetti, a porosity, even an immersion, is established with the exterior space, thus revealing a more optimistic positioning of the architects regarding the possibilities of action and political effect through architecture. The Confetti strategy opens a space for debate on more precise and contextual aspects of capitalist space, in particular on the possibility of real public space. Through the array of threshold spaces in the city, a portrait of civic life can be drawn, as a metonymy of social life in the city. The portrait of a city through threshold spaces is more accurate than a portrait of civic life through open-air public spaces because open-air public spaces express specific dialectics less than threshold spaces do. An array of threshold spaces comprises all facets of civic life. These threshold spaces represent civic life not only through public space, but also through all of the functions of the various architectures we have discussed: museums, libraries, markets, retail shops, youth centres, aged-care facilities, sex clubs, funeral parlours, and so on. All these aspects are part of public space, as expressions of rules and norms, behaviours, and beliefs. If we expand the analysis and

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generalise it to all thresholds between public and private space (including inhabitations and private buildings, for example), the portrait becomes even more accurate. The presence of thresholds fosters democracy, and the portrait of the city through threshold spaces confirms or denies that the city functions in a democratic way. The portrait of a city through its threshold spaces depicts collective negotiation processes in the city. This is especially so for the negotiation of presence of communities and in all different components of civic life.

Notes 1 Sabine Knierbein has a similar conclusion in her book chapter ‘Public space as relational counter space,’ based mainly on Henri Lefebvre’s writings. 2 The artistic montages defined by Adorno illustrate what Lacoue-Labarthe considers improper and unclean. For Adorno, the artistic montages “want to admit their powerlessness in the face of the totality of late capitalism and inaugurate their suppression.” The artistic montage is the “intra-aesthetic surrender of architecture to what is heterogeneous to it. The negation of synthesis becomes a principle of formation” (Adorno 2004, 91). Though their intertwining of spaces, threshold spaces share these characteristics and have a similar impact to the artistic montage.

References Adorno, Theodor W. Aesthetic Theory. London, New York: Continuum, 2004. Aureli, Pier Vittorio. The Possibility of an Absolute Architecture. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2011. Aureli, Pier Vittorio. The Project of Autonomy: Politics and Architecture Within and Against Capitalism. Hudson: Princeton Architectural Press, 2008. Berdet, Marc. Eight Thesis on Phantasmagoria. 2014. 14 April 2021 < https:// journals.openedition.org/am/225>. Boettger, Till. Threshold Spaces: Transitions in Architecture. Analysis and Design Tools. Basel: Birkhäuser, 2014. Christman, John. “Relational Autonomy, Liberal Individualism, and the Social Constitution of Selves.” In Philosophical Studies: An International Journal for Philosophy in the Analytic Tradition 117:1/2 (2004), 143–164. Degoutin, Stéphane and Wagon, Gwenola. Psychanalyse de l’aéroport international. Cognac: ed. 139, 2018. DOGMA. El Croquis 208: DOGMA 2002–2021. Madrid: El Croquis Editorial, 2021. Eichhorn, Maria. Building as Unowned Property, Conversion of a Building’s Legal Status, Legal Studies, Documents, Building, and Plot at Stavropoulos 15, 11252 Athens. Zürich: Migros für Gegenwartskunst, Athens: documenta 14, 2017. Habermas, Jürgen. The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society. Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1989. Hou, Jeffrey. “Making Public, beyond Public Space.” In Shiffman, Ronald, Bell, Rick, Brown, Lance J. and Elizabeth, Lynne, eds. Beyond Zuccotti Park: Freedom

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of Assembly and the Occupation of Public Space. Berkeley: New village Press, 2012. 89–98. Kacem, Mehdi Belhaj. “Confinement: Question à Mehdi Belhaj Kacem.” In Inferno 4. December 2020. 14 April 2021 < https://inferno-magazine.com/2020/12/04/ confinement-une-question-a-mehdi-belhaj-kacem/>. Kacem, Mehdi Belhaj. La Psychose Française. Les Banlieues, le Ban de la République. Paris: Gallimard, 2006. Knierbein, Sabine. “Public Space as Relational Counter Space.” In Tornaghi, Chiara, and Knierbein, Sabine, eds. Public Space and Relational Perspectives: New Challenges for Architecture and Planning. London: Routledge, 2014. 42–64. Koolhaas, Rem. S M L XL. New York: The Montacelli Press, 1995. Lacoue-Labarthe, Philippe. “De Hölderlin à Marx: Mythe, Imitation, Tragédie.” In Labyrinthe 22:3 (2005), 121–133. Lahiji, Nadir Z., ed. Can Architecture be an Emancipatory Project? Dialogues on Architecture and The Left. London: Zero Books, 2016. Picon, Antoine. Digital Culture in Architecture: an Introduction for the Design Profession. Basel: Birkhäuser, 2010. Reinmuth, Gerard, and Benjamin, Andrew. “Autonomy-within Relationality: An Alternative for Architecture after the Global Financial Crisis.” In Interstices: Journal of Architecture and Related Arts 20 (2020), 93–106. Szymczyk, Adam. Plaque of the Artwork Building as Unowned Property. Athens: documenta 14, 2017. Varna, George, and Tiesdell, Steve. “Assessing the Publicness of Public Space: The Star Model of Publicness.” In Journal of Urban Design 15:4 (2010), 575–598.

15 Implications of threshold spaces for communities

Anna Tsing argues that the Holocene was the long period when refugia, places of refuge, still existed, even abounded, to sustain reworlding in rich cultural and biological diversity. Perhaps the outrage meriting a name like Anthropocene is about the destruction of places and times of refuge for people and other critters. … ‘My’ Chthulucene, even burdened with its problematic Greek-ish rootlets, entangles myriad temporalities and spatialities and myriad intra-active entities-in-assemblages—including the more-thanhuman, other-than-human, inhuman, and human-ashumus. … The symchthonic ones are not extinct, but they are mortal. One way to live and die well as mortal critters in the Chthulucene is to join forces to reconstitute refuges, to make possible partial and robust biological-cultural-politicaltechnological recuperation and recomposition, which must include mourning irreversible losses … to keep living and dying well possible in ‘our times.’ Donna J. Haraway (2016, 100–101, 105, 192)

With an emphasis on public space where we meet and interact with “others,” this section is topical in an era of mass migration, global mobility of people and, for some, pervasive anxiety within public space (Castles et al. 2014). Cities around the world are becoming more diverse. In the US for example, the present political and historical climate, including fear of terrorism, has made urban public places inhospitable to diverse cultural practices and identities of gender, class, religion, culture, ethnicity, and nationality. According to Setha Low, one way to integrate our diverse communities and promote social tolerance in this new political climate is to make sure that urban public spaces remain public; that is, inclusive and culturally diverse (Low et al. 2006).

Threshold space between community space and public space In the same way, as we discussed public buildings for youth and the elderly, the Threshold approach can be extended to architecture for any community. The Threshold approach enables the expression of specificities of DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-15

Implications of threshold spaces 211 groups or communities and their diversity to the general public in public space. What is the impact of Threshold Architecture on the links between communities and the public? Following on from the description of qualities of threshold spaces in public space and for public space, this chapter investigates the benefits of threshold spaces for communities, and thus for social life. It focuses on threshold spaces in public space, thus further developing some of the ideas discussed in Chapter 8.1 As threshold spaces enhance public space, they create benefits for society. This chapter explores these benefits and discusses the specific role and impact of threshold spaces for communities in public space. We will use an open and extended definition of “community”: “open” meaning that one person belongs to multiple communities, and “extended” meaning that we add “work” and “socioeconomic status” to the definition of community. This chapter will discuss how thresholds activate “inter-community” relationships more than normal public space does. We will see that this is paradoxical, as public space is more open (both spatially and functionally) than threshold space. The publicness of open public space is enhanced by the proximity and mix of multiple “publics” with differences in gender, socioeconomic status, and ethnicity. The presence of communities on the edges of public space increases their visibility within public space, and thus their acceptance within the broader society. The concept of Threshold addresses debates about communities In a diverse society comprised of different cultural groups, different community viewpoints and expressions coexist. On one side, the defence of universalism inherited from the Enlightenment strives for a common baseline of values, rights, and responsibilities. The main critique of universalism advocates that such a baseline cannot exist without tensions between the supremacy of the dominant or majority group and minority groups (Martin and Nakayama 2007, 34–35). Another critique of universalism is linked to the conception of public space as a sum of individuals, that is, the individualistic model. “In societies where radical individualism has continuously been a principle, there is no doubt that social relations will be increasingly fluid. Permanence may be an unaffordable, or even unwanted, luxury” (Madanipour 2003, 142). On the other side, communitarianism advocates that human identities are largely shaped by different kinds of constitutive communities (or social relations) and that this conception of human nature should inform our moral and political judgments as well as our policies and institutions. Some urban planners value communitarianism, as they see that it enables mutual support and social bonds in communities. They hope that a community can establish interpersonal encounters inside the community, preventing individual alienation.

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A concept of Threshold Architecture The best that urban planning and design can do is not to pretend that it can create cohesive units, but that it can positively contribute, albeit in a limited way, to the development of social relationships rather than merely accepting the alienation of the crowds. (Madanipour 2003, 141)

The critique of communitarianism is excessive segregation, which potentially increases confrontations between communities and creates stigmatisation.2 This chapter aims to provide a critical yet constructive approach to sensitive issues regarding the expression of communities in public space. According to urban planner Kurt Iveson, “The first step is to redefine the public sphere not as a single universal sphere with a set of universal values, but as a sphere where there is more than one set of values or more than one public” (Iveson 1998). A threshold as an area of public space can facilitate different uses of public space, and thus enhance co-presence. By designing a threshold space in which social encounters are potentially intensified among a small community group, the community group is present in public space, with the threshold enabling them to have a non-segregated presence in public space. In this chapter, we will retain our optimistic approach to thresholds, and consider them as resistance to the individualistic model of public space. Thresholds enable exchanges between the public and a specific community, thus echoing society’s challenge to “reconcile equality and difference” (Cusset 2018, 148). In the examples of Threshold Architecture discussed in this book, these semi-private “community spaces” are accessible to the public. Therefore, one function of threshold space in community spaces is the interaction between specific communities and the public. The spatial dimension of community “Community” is defined as a group of people living in the same place, having a particular characteristic, or having attitudes, belief and/or interests in common (Iveson 1998; Varna and Tiesdell 2010). It is normal to consider that a semi-private community space addresses one or multiple groups or communities that share similar: • • •

demographic characteristics, such as gender, ethnicity or age (for example, aged-care facilities, youth centres, universities, and so on) attitudes and beliefs activities and interests—in art, theatre or concerts, sport, games, sexual practice, or mourning, for example.

To which we can also add: • •

work (for example, museum staff, market stall-holders), and socioeconomic status.

Implications of threshold spaces 213 We will consider that individuals belong to multiple communities at any one time. Identity is multiple and fluctuant, and each person chooses whether or not to express it. Ali Madanipour defines social identity as the link between community identity and city space. This is not something fixed, but a process: Social ties are dependent on (and a constituent of) how individuals develop their identities. Social identity is a process, which systematically establishes and signifies the relationship of similarity and difference between individuals, between communities, and between individuals and communities (Jenkins 1996). One of the important components of social identity is its spatial dimension, i.e. where we live, how we move about in the world around us, where we can or cannot go, etc. Through their use of space: individuals establish a relationship of similarity and difference with others, i.e. identifying themselves with some people and areas of the city and distinguishing themselves from others. (Madanipour 2003, 138) Preferring the notion of culture to the notion of ethnicity, this book discusses cultural communities.3 Expressions of culture can be linked to the built environment (Rapoport 2000, 129). Considering this, we can extend this concept to include links to public space. That is, we can say that cultural communities and their expression of culture can be linked to public space and that these communities may value and use these public places in different ways.

Theoretical implications: empowering communities through Thresholds The actuality of Critical Theory The Critical Theory of the Frankfurt School remains relevant today as a theoretical framework, as it places emphasis on communities and minorities in society: “Critical Theory works dialectically, that is by searching out contradictions in social arrangements in which, for example, certain groups are systematically excluded from power or from the free access to information that structures rational debate” (Blackburn 1994, 88). According to Julia Christ, the force of Critical Theory remains today and is especially useful in dealing with identities (Christ 2019). Christ says that: intellectuals should embrace the heritage of Critical Theory of the Frankfurt School by taking the question of identity as line of attack or

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A concept of Threshold Architecture criterion for the critique of society. In the same way that philosophers from the Frankfurt School criticised the absence of distance between the viewer and the artwork in times of mechanical reproducibility of artworks, leading to the fact that the work no longer disturbed people (people saw what they had already seen, what they already knew, what they already thought), we must ask ourselves whether intellectual work today also aims to produce this same distance within the subject itself. (Christ 2019)

This presence of a community in a threshold of public space creates a “distance” in the gaze and experience of the public by integrating a “less familiar culture” into public space. Critical Theory makes us aware of what this “distance” can produce. This critical formulation of Critical Theory is still valid today. Architectural design of public spaces needs to challenge the viewpoints of people who do not like change in social hierarchies, and who prefer to hide minorities which, according to them, do not have the right to be obviously present and to express their culture in public space. Designers are able to create public spaces that differ from the common, neutral public space that predominates where no specific identity is visible. A better design that “creates a distance” between the viewer and the expression of society that is in front of them, has a revolutionary potential and thus an emancipatory potential for communities. Architecture can be analysed critically today for the way it creates a distance between the subject and itself. In the context of this chapter, the purpose is not to analyse style or other formal aspects but to analyse the social function of spaces. Architecture that aims to serve communities and express their presence in public space, creates this distance between the subject and itself. The philosophical tools of Critical Theory are useful for challenging the dominant discourse and perceptions of public and private spaces through the discourse and perceptions of minorities. Dialectics between the majority, or mainstream, and minorities The word “minority” defines any small community in society that is different from society at large because of its social status, economic status, political beliefs, race, religion, or gender. This chapter tackles social status, economic status, and race. Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari have written about the awareness of disparity that arises when people witness the gap between marginal communities and the powerful or mainstream. The powerful hope to stay powerful, and seek to maintain a viewpoint that matches this hope. The powerful or mainstream and the marginal share different sets of signs, attitudes, and behaviours, that Deleuze and Guattari call “regimes of signs.” These “regimes of signs” comprise the “signifying regime” of signs (SRS) of

Implications of threshold spaces 215 the powerful or mainstream and the “post-signifying subjective regime” of signs (PSRS) of the minority (1987, 157). The “regime of signs” enables us to discuss the expression of marginal communities in relation to the power of the mainstream. Thresholds have political implications for interactions between the communities and the daily politics of the powerful or the mainstream. In the context of thresholds, through the interaction or intertwining of the SRS and PSRS in the social system, the system transforms itself in a creative way, especially becoming less hierarchical. The minority as PSRS is empowered. The community can “deterritorialise” in its community space, and then can “reterritorialise” in public space. The architectural implication of the possibility of this reterritorialisation is a continuity from open-air public space to the community spaces, through thresholds. The range of PSRS expressed by the minority is set in play with the SRS through this continuity with public space. Thresholds ignite the civic dialectics of the city. The growth in awareness of the difference between the minority and the powerful or mainstream in public space can potentially lead to the social emancipation of communities. The gap between powerful or mainstream and marginal communities is often an economic gap. The economic dimension to sharing public space, and especially amenities in public space, has political implications. Thresholds transgress the usual hierarchy of access to available amenities according to given economic and social status. According to Rancière (as we saw at the end of Chapter 8), the visibility of the gap initiates politics, and the rupture of the gap creates a public “scene,” where new modes of citizenship governing the relations between rulers and those being ruled are introduced, thus changing symbolic identities (Rancière 1999, 36). Through thresholds, a rupture is created in social hierarchies, as minorities of all kinds, and lower economic demographics, have easier access to public space. This easier access confers symbolic power. In this sense, the ideas around symbolic and economic value exemplify the significant political potential of thresholds. Through the potential of thresholds to rupture the gap between the powerful or mainstream and marginal communities, the logic of productivity based on a hierarchical economic system is disrupted. Thresholds provide an escape from the traditions of public behaviours and the habits of thought that we tend to repeat. Thresholds are places where the logic to which a subject is habitually subjected are removed. Thresholds are also a provocation against the growing control and policing of society, as seen in Chapter 9. The concept of Threshold as a feminist issue As a prelude, the potential of empowerment through a philosophical Threshold position is exemplified by Hélène Cixous’ personal experience:

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A concept of Threshold Architecture In fact, it was writing that made me become a woman. I was in darkness, as I believe all women are in their childhood. When discovering what assault on borders, intolerance of closure, of the definitive, of death, there can be in writing, i.e. when discovering that power which does not want to die, which cannot die, I realised that, somewhere, I was somehow dead as a woman. (Cixous 2018)

We can consider the female community, including anyone who identifies with the female community, whatever one’s gender. We will not tackle the subject of architecture that is specific to women as, until now, there has been no spatial nor aesthetic criteria that have been validated (all cliches can be deconstructed). There is no such thing as architecture for the female community. But there are feminist issues that architecture can tackle. The first issue is the presence of women in physical public space. The second issue is to make public architecture inclusive to all. Nancy Fraser is the main theorist of the contemporary stream of Critical Theory who engages with feminist theory. Fraser states that the female community can constitute a community inside or at the threshold of public space, which can thus be empowered when “re-territorialising” in public space. Fraser shows that the public sphere, as Habermas conceives it, can only be an ideal insofar as those who partake in it are already equal. Acting as if inequalities did not exist is not enough to establish real parity and equal participation in the public sphere. Fraser developed a feminist critique of Habermas’s theory by showing that, due to power relations exercised in public space, the emancipation of certain groups is made impossible. For Fraser, the emancipation of these groups depends on being able to deliberate separately. Fraser defined the concept of “Subaltern Counterpublic,” that deliberate among themselves at specific moments (Fraser 1990). These communities can be dominated in public space because they do not master the vocabulary and are subject to a whole series of devices that keep them in a subordinate position. This temporary non-mixing was already put in place by feminists in the 1970s. It provides a way to neutralise power relations in an open-to-all public space. According to Fraser, there is a need to neutralise these power relations, of which Habermas is not sufficiently aware. The underlying criticism is that Habermas’s rationality is too disconnected from social reality and social inequalities. It follows that the challenge is to create architecture that addresses every community and does not conform to the principles of a male-dominated society. A feminist perspective on architecture is thus an intersectional perspective on architecture. As seen in Chapter 4, Odile Decq’s architecture has implications for architecture’s intersectional perspectives. Decq, it must be acknowledged, professes not to be preoccupied by a feminist agenda. “I am not a feminist. I don’t want to fight only for [feminism] but I became the one in front

Implications of threshold spaces 217 because of the way I speak: I am very direct” (Decq et al 2019, 31). Still, while her architecture can be analysed independently of gender, it remains the case that her designs do manifest a feminist dimension (as certain designs by men also do). The postmodern influence of Decq’s architecture and the emphasis on the emotional experience of architecture, as discussed in Chapter 4, suggests that research refining our understanding of feminist and anti-patriarchal practices of architecture is fruitful. “Anti-patriarchy” is understood as a critique made by all (men, women, and LGBTQI people) against the patriarchal organisation of public space. Decq challenges homogeneity and segregation in architecture and urban planning through postmodern principles that enable alternative, underrepresented narratives of public space, in public space. The critique of homogeneity and segregation in Decq’s architecture is instantiated in her singular public buildings. The critique of segregation is a critique of spaces that are rationalistically partitioned, especially between public and private, interior and exterior. This posture offers a feminist critique of the politics of public and private space: without addressing this explicitly in her discourses, Decq’s practice suggests counter-patriarchal solutions to the orchestration of public interaction in civic buildings. According to Seyla Benhabib, “The very logic of discourses permits us to challenge the traditionalist understandings of the public/private split.” In architecture, the principles of spatial organisation enable us to challenge traditional hierarchies and the organisation of public and private space. With the risk of oversimplification, let us just remember that the main challenge is to free some women from the seclusion of private space and to enable access to public space. Fraser’s and Benhabib’s feminist approaches consider a mediation between public and private space that challenges strict distinctions (Fraser 1989; Fraser and Naples 2004; Benhabib 1998). Feminist constructions of architectural language offer the potential to subvert conventional patriarchal understandings of the public/private split. The real challenge here is to enhance the agency of women in a civic architectural context that, while eschewing strict distinctions, upholds the integrity of both public and private space. Decq’s architecture challenges historically dominant architectural types, especially those promoting rationalist partitioning or homogeneity, and as such represent design expressions that are significant in democratic and feminist terms.

Design enabling visibility and non-stigmatisation in public space The design challenge linked to diverse value and use is non-identitarian design. The challenge is to design spaces that do not show obvious signs and symbols of only one community identity, so that these spaces can stay truly public. Interculturalism involves allowing different cultures to express themselves in the same public space, where people can meet and participate

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as equals (Sandercock and Attili 2009). Interculturalism requires nonculturally specific street seating areas. Michail Galanakis examined how public spaces facilitate social inclusion and intercultural communication, and present socio-spatial practices and processes that transcend ethnocultural divisions (Galanakis 2013). In this book, we concur with Galanakis in concluding that transcending traditional public and private boundaries through threshold space helps facilitate social inclusion. Thresholds are not defined permanently through specific “identitarian” design but enable multiple “pockets” for individual or group gatherings, and their interaction. Can threshold spaces enhance the presence and expression of communities in public space? The overarching challenge for designers is to minimise segregation of communities on the margins (at home or in assigned identitarian public spaces) that potentially leads to stigmatisation. A fluid link between semiprivate space and public space can, in some cases, avoid segregation. Principles for minimising segregation have been defined by Setha Low, Dana Taplin, and Suzanne Scheld in Rethinking Urban Parks: Public Space and Cultural Diversity. The authors revisited themes emerging from William H. Whyte’s classic 1980 study of Manhattan’s plazas. The authors’ lessons for promoting and sustaining cultural diversity in public space reflect their explicit concern “with truly public spaces” with an inclusive, culturally diverse, and therefore assertively democratic character (Low et al. 2006, 195). They propose design of spaces where people feel they can use the space without feeling conspicuous or looked down upon by people of different cultural groups. In short, a “successful” multicultural environment is one where various groups’ sense of comfort is combined with good physical design to create an atmosphere that can nurture many preferences; a place that fosters social interaction while simultaneously creating distinct spaces where individual cultures can be emphasised and celebrated. The non-profit organisation Project For Public Spaces identifies facilities that enhance multiculturalism: While studies of public places conclude that groups have the tendency to self-segregate, the same studies point to certain elements of the built environment where divisions dissolve and people naturally come together. Public markets [see Chapter 5 of this book], playgrounds, boardwalks, streets, and beaches are arguably the most successful types of “multicultural places” because they can foster the kind of organic interaction between people that place makers, social scientists, and cultural theorists consider so critical to the development of communities across social divides. (Knapp 2018)

Implications of threshold spaces 219 Another example of threshold space is provided by Karin Peters in Thieme Park in the city of Nijmegen in the Netherlands (Peters 2010, 421). In Thieme Park, Peters identified a group of Muslim women who feel at ease in this park, as it is organised like a threshold where they can go unaccompanied (Stodolska and Livengood 2006): Muslim women stayed in the park without men, such as a Turkish woman who often visited the park with her mother and children. Both parks acted as transitional spaces that allowed strangers and passers-by to interact, which was valued positively. Thieme Park functioned as an everyday space that forms the connective tissue that binds daily life together and served as primary intersections between the individual and the city. (Peters 2010, 429) Some might say that this group of Muslim women should access the “bigger public world;” however, their presence in this threshold space enables them to potentially negotiate their presence in other public spaces. Another, initially invisible, challenging issue is the potential fear or apprehension of communities about being present and using facilities in public space and thus in the public gaze. This apprehension can be due to uneasy physical access to facilities and the inequitable distribution of resources but is also an issue of psychological access. Similar to the under-participation of some communities in specific sports, such as golf (Gobster 1998), some communities have a tendency not to occupy public space. Community groups may find it more comfortable to organise gatherings at home rather than in public space due to cultural prejudices and the attention brought on them when in public space. Good design has limits addressing this issue; however, designers should strive to enable the presence of any community groups whenever those groups desire it. The role and impact of threshold spaces on the presence and expression of communities in public space Threshold spaces have a key role to play here. One specific ethical value of thresholds spaces is the participation of minorities in public space, including the enhancement of the visibility of community members that are typically under-represented in public space. An appropriate design response could be an amenity in a Pocket Space, that can be the driver for the increased presence of people usually absent (or not visible) in public space, aiming at equality, sympathy, fraternity, and awareness of diversity and difference in society. Tensions are inherent to public space, and tensions from the co-existence of multiple communities is inherent to public space. Enhancing multiculturalism could enhance practices and uses of public spaces that are contradictory. Threshold spaces are places for negotiating these contradictions, and thus negotiating identities and value systems, and building

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subjectivities. According to Wood and Gilbert, “the negotiation of multiple cultural identities (between and amongst ’different’ and dominant groups) occurs in public spaces and institutions” (Wood and Gilbert 2005, 685). Threshold spaces for communities enable them to perform the inextricable link between publicness and privacy, since privacy requires performance in public to be recognised and discussed. In particular, the expression of cultural communities in public space, including private aspects, enables recognition of these communities (Herzfeld 2009, 157). Communities’ aspirations need to be as much as possible discussed and not dismissed, and open-air places of debates and Pocket Spaces make this possible. In increasingly diverse cities, designing shared public spaces allows “identities and value systems to be in negotiation” (Galanakis 2013). As part of public life, different worldviews can contest each other, through oral debate or the negotiation of presence and movement in public space, which enhances civic life in the long term. Threshold spaces for communities can prompt new behaviours and lead designers to adopt new principles. Enhancing the presence of diverse communities in public space appears to be a tool of resistance against the disappearance of public space. The expression and negotiation of cultural differences in public space is a democratic reaction to top-down policies (Hou 2010; Kaakinen 2011; Galanakis 2012). It has an impact on everyday life and could have an impact, in the long-term, on reviewing laws, policies, and norms that permeate our lives and dictate what should be public and private. To summarise, there are both upsides and downsides for everybody with the presence of minority communities in a public space threshold: •

•

•

•

The first upside occurs when the threshold space provides visibility and inclusion to a community that was previously marginalised, with no access to public space before access to the threshold. The second upside is that the community can nurture its specificities and build its subjectivity. Thresholds are spaces for community expression and thus prevent dilution (or homogenisation) of community cultures in public space. This function is especially important for minorities. The third upside is that this intertwining of cultures can be a resistance against identity politics. Thresholds can act against the concealment of a marginal community that would otherwise express itself in separate spaces and buildings. A downside is that the threshold may publicly appear as marginal, leaving those with power at the centre.

A stranger in the city’s thresholds To finish this chapter, we will discuss the experience of a stranger to the city. In doing so, our viewpoint shifts from the perspective of a community

Implications of threshold spaces 221 to the perspective of an individual. Most of us have experienced the situation of arriving in a new city, or in a different country, and of having looked for a spot to rest. The most comfortable spot for a stranger is in public space, where anonymity prevails. In most countries, public libraries can be appropriate spots to rest, get some information and engage with people. When there are no turnstiles and the access is free, the public library is a threshold. The public library is a fit place for the stranger and their condition and status. The condition that Georg Simmel attributes to the stranger is one that is both inside and outside (Simmel 1999). This condition enables the stranger to reach a kind of understanding that sometimes eludes locals. The stranger, like the Benjaminian flâneur, can gather signs of the city, especially from its public space and its threshold spaces. Through this collection of signs, perceived in a state of distracted perception, the stranger can feel the dialectics of the social life of the city. The signs are the behaviours and actions of people, and the architectural and other urban signs of the city. This is a condition that Benjamin especially appreciated, and through which he nurtured his thoughts about the dialectics of the cities he analysed, such as Paris, Berlin, Marseille, or Naples. If segregation prevails in a city or country in relation to a specific community, then threshold spaces within this community are not visible. If strangers arrive in a city that lacks urban and architectural thresholds, they do not sense the dialectics of city life. Also, strangers cannot negotiate their presence in places other than open-air public space. The existence of thresholds in a city is evidence of the potential for negotiation and politics in a society.

Notes 1 This chapter could have tackled the question of community buildings, but no relevant architectural example has so far been found. It seemed that the political issues related to a specific community required special attention, before discussing secondary parameters for the integration of a community, such as architecture. This would require further development. 2 Social engineering promotes small-scale neighbourhoods to confront the anonymity of the metropolis, which some analysts see as a threat to the moral and social order (Madanipour 2003, 130): As society was becoming increasingly individualised, there was a need for new modes of social integration. As social fragmentation found clear spatial manifestations, in the growth of suburbia and in social segregation of social groups, it was thought that a spatial solution should also be found. By bringing people together in distinct neighbourhoods clustering around focal public spaces and institutions, it was thought a foundation was being laid for the creation of new communities out of displaced individuals. The origins of modern urban design and most of its activities should be studied in this context, to be partly an attempt against social fragmentation and its spatial manifestations. (Madanipour 2003, 136)

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The critique of communitarianism is linked to the critique of the segregated community model. Segregation may create further social fragmentation, rather than social cohesion, through the creation of visible spatial and social barriers. “Rather than being a community of communities, the society may become the site of exaggerated differentiation, which leaves it with more fractures than before.” Instead, we should support “the development of common platforms and shared experiences” (Madanipour 2003, 137). 3 What is ethnic identity, and does it matter? (Chandra 2006). As summarised by Marta Sitek:“The term ‘ethnicity’ means: ‘a group of people with shared origins or social background, shared culture and traditions that are distinctive, maintained between generations, and lead to a sense of identity’” (Senior and Bhopal 1994, 327). However, many researchers believe that ethnic identification is a multilayered labelling process frequently based on a subjective belief, and as such it can engage people both within an ethnic group, and outside of an ethnic group (Espiritu 1992). Moreover, some theorists state that individuals may have multiple ethnic identities that operate with different salience at different times (Sedikides and Brewer 2001). … For these reasons, most current investigators engaged in cross-cultural research tend to recognise culture as a proper research variable and a meaningful factor affecting environmental perception and preference (Lewis 2010). Lewis states that “beyond shared physical attributes, history and geographic origin, culture is the substance of ethnicity and is the foundation from which ethnic identities are being constructed” (Lewis 2010, 222). Culture is “a system of learned or socially transmitted beliefs, behaviours, norms, attitudes and forms of expression that are deemed appropriate for a group or community” (Lewis 2010, 223). Culture can be characterised as a unique and intersubjective perceptual filter (shaped by a system of concepts, beliefs, and values) through which people experience and appraise both their social as well as physical worlds.Lewis 2010” (Sitek 2011, 8–9).

References Benhabib, Seyla. “Models of Public Space: Hannah Arendt, the Liberal Tradition, and Jürgen Habermas.” In Landes, Joan B., ed. Feminism, the Public and the Private. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. 65–91. Blackburn, Simon. The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994. Castles, Stephen, de Haas, Hein, and Miller, Mark J. The Age of Migration. New York: The Guilford Press, 2014. Chandra, Kanchan. “What is Ethnic Identity, and does it matter?” In Annual Review of Political Science 9 (2006), 397–424. Christ, Julia. “Adorno et Benjamin en Guerre contre la Kulturindustrie (Adorno and Benjamin at war against the Kulturindustrie).” In Les Chemins de la philosophie. 19 November 2019. 14 April 2021 < www.franceculture.fr/emissions/leschemins-de-la-philosophie/lecole-de-francfort-24-adorno-et-benjamin-en-guerrecontre-la-kulturindustrie>. Cixous Hélène. “Interview.” In France Culture—Les Chemins de la Philosophie—Manon Garcia, philosophe féministe. 5 October 2018. 14 April 2021 < www.franceculture.fr/emissions/les-chemins-de-la-philosophie/professionphilosophe-manon-garcia>.

Implications of threshold spaces 223 Cusset, François. How the World Swung to the Right. South Pasadena: Semiotext (e), 2018. Decq, Odile, Sanz, Salvador Gilabert and Mínguez de Molina, Beatriz. “Conversando con … Odile Decq.” In Expresión Gráfica Arquitectónica 24:36 (2019), 18–35. Deleuze, Gilles and Guattari Felix. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987. Espiritu, Yen Le. Asian American Panethnicity: Bridging Institutions and Identities. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992. Fraser, Nancy, and Naples, Nancy A. “To Interpret the World and to Change It: An Interview with Nancy Fraser.” In Signs 529:4 (2004), 1103–1124. Fraser, Nancy. “Rethinking the Public Sphere: A Contribution to the Critique of Actually Existing Democracy.” In Social Text 25/26 (1990), 56–80. Fraser, Nancy. Unruly Practices: Power, Discourse, and Gender in Contemporary Social Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989. Galanakis, Michael. “The Living Rooms our City-centres ought to be. Olohuone, an Urban Experiment in Helsinki Railway Station.” In Journal of Arts and Communities 3:2 (2012), 115–133. Galanakis, Michail. “Intercultural Public Spaces in Multicultural Toronto.” In Canadian Journal of Urban Research 22:1, Special Issue: Diversity and Public Space in Canadian Cities (Summer 2013), 67–89. Gobster, Paul H. “Explanations for Minority ‘Underparticipation’ in Outdoor Recreation: A look at Golf.” In Journal of Park and Recreation Administration 16 (1998), 46–64 Haraway, Donna J. Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene. Durham: Duke University Press, 2016. Herzfeld, Michael. “The Performance of Secrecy: Domesticity and Privacy in Public Spaces.” In Semiotica 175 (January 2009), 135–162. Hou, Jeffrey. “‘Night Market’ in Seattle: Community Eventscape and the Reconstruction of Public Space.” In Hou, Jeffrey, ed. Insurgent Public Space Guerrilla Urbanism and the Remaking of Contemporary Cities. Abingdon, New York: Routledge, 2010. 111–122. Iveson, Kurt. “Putting the Public back into Public Space.” In Urban Policy and Research 16:1 (1998), 21–33. Jenkins, Richard. Social Identity. London: Routledge, 1996. Kaakinen, Iinka. Quest for Space: Streetvendors and the Use of Public Spaces in two Latin American Cities. Helsinki: Unigrafia, 2011. Knapp, Courtney. Project For Public Spaces. 2018. 14 April 2021 < www.pps.org/ article/multicultural-places>. Lewis, John L. “Interethnic Preferences for Landscape Change — A Comparison of First Nations and Euro-Canadian Residents.” In Landscape Journal 29:2 (2010), 215–231. Low, Setha, Taplin, Dana and Scheld, Suzanne. Rethinking Urban Parks. Public Space and Cultural Diversity. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2006. Madanipour, Ali. Communal Space of the Neighbourhood, in Public and Private Spaces of the City. London, New York: Routledge, 2003. Martin, Judith N., and Nakayama, Thomas K. Experiencing Intercultural Communication: an introduction. New York: McGraw-Hill Humanities/Social Sciences/Languages, 2007.

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Oikarinen-Jabai, Helena, and Galanakis, Michael. “Embodied Diversity: Let Me Show You My Shadow.” In International Journal of Diversity in Organisations, Communities and Nations 5 (2007), 63–68. Peters, Karin. “Being Together in Urban Parks: Connecting Public Space, Leisure, and Diversity.” In Leisure Sciences 32 (2010), 418–433. Rancière, Jacques. Disagreement: Politics and Philosophy. Minneapolis. London: University of Minnesota Press, 1999. Rapoport, Amos. “Science, Explanatory Theory, and Environment-Behavior Studies.” In Wapner, Seymour, Demick, Jack, Yamamoto, C. Takiji, and Minami, Hiroufmi, eds. Theoretical perspectives in environment-behavior research: underlying assumptions, research problems, and methodologies. New York: Plenum Publishers, 2000. 107–140. Sandercock, Leonie, and Attili, Giovanni. “Towards a Cosmopolitan Urbanism: From Theory to Practice.” In Where Strangers Become Neighbours. Berlin: Springer Science+Business Media, 2009. 193–229. Sedikides, Constantine, and Brewer, Marilynn B., eds. Individual Self, Relational Self, Collective Self. Hove: Psychology Press, 2001. Senior, Peter A. and Bhopal, Raj S. “Ethnicity as a Variable in Epidemiological Research.” In British Medical Journal 309 (1994), 327–328. Simmel, Georg. “The Stranger.” In Lemert, Charles, ed. Social Theory: The Multicultural and Classic Readings. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1999. 181–184. Sitek, Marta. Meaningful Design in a Multicultural Community, Master of Arts in Planning Thesis. Waterloo: University of Waterloo, 2011. Stodolska, Monika and Livengood, Jennifer. “The Influence of Religion on the Leisure Behaviour of Immigrant Muslims in the United States.” In Journal of Leisure Research 38 (2006), 293–320. Varna, George, and Tiesdell, Steve. “Assessing the Publicness of Public Space: The Star Model of Publicness.” In Journal of Urban Design 15:4 (2010), 575–598. Wood, Patricia K. and Gilbert, Liette. “Multiculturalism in Canada: Accidental Discourse, Alternative Vision, Urban Practice.” In International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 29 (2005), 679–691. Wood, Phil, and Landry, Charles. The Intercultural City — Planning for Diversity Advantage. London: Earthscan, 2008.

Conclusion

Threshold spaces enhance public space The main conclusion of this book is that threshold space between semiprivate and public space enhances public space. Threshold spaces act productively on the politics of public space in two key ways: •

•

By easing access to and visibility in public space for all. The impact is even more important for individuals, groups or communities that are usually invisible. By causing a recalibration of boundaries between public space and private space. Threshold spaces also facilitate a negotiation between individual and collective use.

Threshold spaces are spaces of social expression To demonstrate this, we have considered the importance of the spatial characteristics of architecture, linked to behaviours and usages. The political value of architectural space is linked to the fundamental matter of architecture: that is, space. Only architectural intentions that are grounded in spatial characteristics that frame and affect behaviours are considered political. As such, the Threshold approach is anchored in the social aspects of architecture. Threshold spaces have been our focus since they present an extended array of usages. Because of the differences in status of spaces, which we have called “tensions” between spaces, an extended array of dialectics of social context are expressed by threshold spaces. As such, threshold spaces have a high potential to be political. It is no wonder that Walter Benjamin was particularly interested in threshold spaces when observing and commenting on cities such as Paris or Naples. The book defines the concept of Threshold Architecture as architecture that is mainly composed of threshold spaces. The Parisian Arcades are our prime example of a Benjaminian Threshold Architecture. By enabling negotiation and friction between people using the spaces, Threshold Architecture has a higher potential than non-Threshold Architecture to be a “metaphor of its social DOI: 10.4324/9781003133889-104

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context,” since, in the threshold, a visitor can transition from one behaviour to another from within the wide range of public/private and individual/collective behaviours. This individual/collective negotiation of presence, movement, and behaviour is political. Additionally, a visitor can witness a “theatre” of behaviours by others in the space. An important array of social issues can be expressed in the behaviours inside Threshold Architecture, and are expressed in the physical characteristics of this architecture. By disappearing, threshold spaces tell us something about our society We cannot identify any contemporary Threshold Architecture that is as iconic as the nineteenth century Parisian Arcades identified by Benjamin. Pervasive, Semi-private Complex architectures, such as shopping centres and airports, reveal aspects of their contemporary contexts. However, these are not public spaces, since they are too constrained (even the foyer is very controlled). While we did not identify major contemporary metaphors for changes in society in the various examples of Threshold Architecture we have considered, we have identified metaphors for (more local) changes in communities. This lack of (iconic) threshold spaces should not be seen as a failure. We recall that Benjamin was already interested in the Parisian Arcades because they were a metaphor of the end of an era. The Parisian Arcades were also disappearing (were no longer being built) at the time Benjamin wrote his Arcades Project. Similarly, threshold spaces are the focus of this book because they are disappearing in our contemporary era and their disappearance reveals something about our social context. The first reason is the pervasion of Semi-private Complex architecture. The second reason for their disappearance, which has been identified in this book, is the excessive array of rules and guidelines (especially regarding safety and security) that restrict the publicness of public space and the accessibility of semi-private buildings. Another reason for the lack of contemporary threshold space is the tendency towards homogenisation of space, leading to the loss of difference between public and private space. Our analysis of threshold spaces, although they are disappearing, tells us something about our society. Threshold spaces as resistance Paradoxically (that is, in a dialectic way), threshold spaces are a remedy for the tendencies of excessive constraint, especially via rules or guidelines, and excessive homogenisation of space. Benjamin is the key figure for the optimistic assessment of cultural items that create a “crisis of the spatial experience.” We have shown that Threshold Architecture can be especially efficient in our contemporary society, for tackling a number of issues related to public space, each issue depending on the function of the building. Threshold spaces and Threshold Architecture can encourage people to

Conclusion 227 encounter other cultures, other communities (including people in need), people from other social classes, and people with different sexual practices. They can also enable them to mourn where death-related practices are not denied. In addition to encouraging these activities, other architectural programmes such as architecture for culture, some architectures of service areas and retail shops, age-specific architecture (for youth or the elderly, for example) also enhance the politics of public space through thresholds. All of these activities and programmes contribute to public life in the city. Thresholds express social aspects in various ways: their presence in the city reflects social needs and can influence the behaviour of people, they can surprise or provoke people, or they can make them react or resist a given spatial organisation, and so on. These various ways of expressing social aspects are part of the metonymic relation between the architecture of threshold spaces and their social context.

Categories of architecture: Semi-private Complexes, Autonomous Architecture, and Threshold Architecture Threshold Architectures can be metaphors for changes in society. The conditions for this have been listed and discussed. Threshold Architecture can be supported by a collective dream that translates the aspiration of society at the time of conception and construction of the project. We have discussed and positioned Threshold Architecture in relation to three other categories of architecture: •

•

•

The Architecture of Semi-private Complexes, where commercial logics predominate, with the side effects that this entails, and that, in short, “kill” public space. When Threshold Architecture is “adapted” to the contemporary socio-economic context dominated by capitalism, then it becomes a Semi-private Complex. This category includes Benjaminian phantasmagoria. Semi-private Complex architectures like airports, and some megacomplexes and shopping centres, are political, but these architectures are too spatially constrained to be public spaces and are usually totally privately owned or managed, restraining the possibility of threshold space. Semi-private Complex architectures can be considered symptoms of our society, as they cannot resist a decline in public space. They usually comply with, and contribute, to tendencies of segregation (from public space) and homogenisation of space (fluid flow of people through these spaces). Open and Fluid architecture. Compared with Semi-private Complex architecture, this architecture is spatially so open and circulation so fluid that spaces are not distinguishable. Open and Fluid architecture creates homogeneous space (as mentioned in chapter 12 and 14). Autonomous Architecture. If real public space no longer exists, this strategy is to disconnect the building from the exterior space. When the context no longer enables the existence of Threshold Architecture “as

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Conclusion resistance,” then a form of radical resistance is to withdraw it from public space. In my view, no positive effect can arise from this foreclosure, because the exterior space becomes even more impoverished through the absence of porosity with semi-private spaces.

To sum up, threshold spaces have two characteristics. The first is the existence of a social aspect that enables resistance against the split between the Collective and the Individual that occurred in the Late Modern period, and more generally a resistance to the segregation of activities. The second is a resistance to the homogenisation of space (that is, a loss of private space and a loss of real public space). As such, thresholds offer a resistance to social and political extremes— that is, resistance to an excess of Law or an absence of Law in public life, with capitalist determinism being the most influential contemporary form of social and political extremes. The architectures of threshold spaces that have been identified as “metaphors” for their social context are a combination of Semi-private Complex architecture and publicly accessible space. I thus defined the paradoxical political condition of some Threshold Architectures as “adaptation”. When Threshold Architecture encompasses a manufactured consumerist aspect, then it is hybrid and has the status of a pharmakon. One part supports a manufactured dream, and another part, infused by public space, can support free collective dreams. In contrast to Semi-private Complexes, Threshold Architectures in this case reverse the logic of phantasmagorias. By putting the reality of social interactions, work, and the means of production in public view, architecture does not have the “mask” of phantasmagoria. Threshold Architectures can potentially represent a way to break free from this phantasmagoria. The Yokohama Ferry Terminal, for example, combines a ferry terminal (a very controlled space with restricted access) with large areas of public space. Retail architecture that is connected to public space, and as such enhances public space through threshold spaces, would provide another example. In the logic of the pharmakon: it provides a cure for the destruction of public space, by using aspects of what destroys public space. Critical Theory enabled us to identify these contradictions in the concept of Threshold. I hypothesized that “good” Threshold Architecture has an emancipatory potential put at the service of a resistance project, in particular resistance to the disappearance of “real” public space. The existence of diverse thresholds in a city is a sign of living politics in a city. We seek a richness of urban fabrics similar to those identified by Benjamin and Lãcis in the streets of Naples. The various architects mentioned in the book participate in this contemporary innovative enrichment. This book has provided a methodological framework that can be used to generate new insights into architecture's capacity to reflect and affect the socio-political life of contemporary urban societies.

Index

Adorno T.W 7, 21, 40, 140 advantage 150, 159, 161, 166, 173, 200–201; see also benefit agency 15, 21, 25, 33, 38–39, 106, 156, 160, 203–205, 217; see also empower agonistic 200–202; see also autonomy Arcades 1–3, 4, 6, 8, 25–26, 27, 33, 35, 38–39, 42–44, 66, 75, 191, 207, 225–226 Arendt A. 7, 14, 110–111 Artigas V. 89–91 Aureli P. V. 199–201 Autonomous Architecture 199–200, 205, 207, 227; see also autonomy autonomy 160, 195–197, 199–201, 205; see also agonistic autonomy 87, 105, 151, 160, 195–197, 199–202, 205; see also Autonomous Architecture benefit 3, 8, 14, 39, 44, 74, 87, 100, 119, 123, 129–130, 149–150, 152, 161, 163, 166, 169, 188, 196–197, 204, 211; see also advantage Benhabib S. 217 Benjamin W. 1–7, 20, 22, 25–27, 31, 33–34, 40–41, 43–44, 60, 66, 103, 105, 132, 139, 141, 156, 185, 187, 191, 201, 204, 207, 221, 225–228 Berdaguer C. and Péjus M. 161–162 Berdet M. 6, 203 Bilbao T. 142, 144–147 challenge 8, 19, 33, 42, 44, 60, 62, 71, 74, 77, 78, 83, 104, 107, 109, 110, 124, 131, 134, 136, 150–152, 158–161, 164, 166, 212, 214, 216, 217, 218 Christ J. 213–214

Christman J. 195–196 Cixous H. 215–216 community, communities 8–9, 14–15, 34–35, 40, 53, 61–62, 74, 77–78, 79–83, 86–88, 90, 91–93, 95, 99–100, 107, 113, 118–124, 138, 142, 144–145, 147, 150, 160–161, 170, 186, 197, 205, 208, 210–222, 225–227 contradictions 6, 13, 26, 39–40, 150, 172, 174–175, 203, 213, 219, 228; see also tensions crisis: of the gaze 19; crisis of the experience 40, 204, 226 critical practice 151–152, 159, 200 Critical Theory 6–8, 28, 39–41, 173, 213–214, 228 cultural architecture 47, 67–68 Dacheux É 14, 100 Davis M. 14, 100, 131–132 Decq O. 53–62, 67, 78, 189, 216–217 Degoutin S. and Wagon G. 203–204 Deleuze G. 18–19, 100, 187, 214 democracy, democratic 7, 19–20, 27, 43, 50, 76, 90, 100, 103, 105–106, 118, 124, 129, 132, 149, 206, 208, 217–218, 220 Déotte J.-L 2–3, 5–6, 20, 43 dephased 2 dialectics, dialectical 6–9, 25, 28, 35, 42–44, 50, 66, 82–83, 105, 128, 138–141, 149–150, 152–153, 155–156, 158–159, 172–173, 176, 181, 186, 192, 197–198, 201, 203–207, 213–215, 221, 225 dispositive 52, 53, 73, 186–189, 191–193

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Index

DOGMA (Pier Vittorio Aureli and Martino Tattara) 199–200, 207 Eichhorn M. 201 emancipation, emancipatory 8, 39–43, 59, 124, 155, 166, 172–173, 175, 192, 204, 214–216, 228 empower 88; empowering 213; empowerment 74, 215; empowered 215, 216; see also agency Engwicht D. 123–124 envelope 13–14, 17, 19, 22, 28, 30–37, 52, 55, 57–59, 64, 67, 108–109, 156, 166, 198–199 event 31, 38, 58–59, 61, 65, 80, 100, 103, 104–109, 120, 144, 171–172, 189, 191 field of forces 30–32, 155, 158 Fior L. 119–120; see also Muf FOA (Foreign Office Architects) 28–32, 34–35 Foucault M. 105, 140, 174, 186–187 Fox C. 185, 187 Francis-Jones Morehen Thorp Pty Ltd (Fjmt) 88–89 Fraser N. 41, 216–217 freedom 19–21, 35, 38–40, 42, 44, 56, 58–62, 86, 91, 105, 141, 149–150, 161, 164, 170–173, 175–176, 181, 183, 203–206 Freud S. 2, 5, 41, 143 Galanakis M. 118, 121, 218, 220 Goetz B. 19–20 Graham D. 185 Guattari F. 19, 214 Habermas J. 7, 14, 41, 99, 104, 132, 202, 216 Hadid Z. 76, 150, 188 Haraway D. J. 211 Harvey D. 14 Herzfeld M. 7–8, 220 Herzog & de Meuron 71–72, 89 homogenisation 8, 108, 149–150, 152, 165, 169–176, 220, 226–228 Horkheimer M. 39, 41, 140 Hostile Vehicle Mitigation (HVM) 134–136 Huyghe P.-D 19 hyperconnectivity 169–170; see also open and fluid

ideology 169–170, 174 intersection, intersect 3, 5, 27, 31, 80, 89, 108–109, 153–156, 159, 176, 203, 216, 219; see also intertwining, intertwine inter-subjectivity 14 intertwining, intertwine, intertwined 3, 6–7, 13, 16, 19, 21, 25, 32, 34–35, 42–43, 47, 50, 61, 64–65, 67, 72, 74–75, 95, 99, 103, 122, 140, 143–144, 153, 155–157, 161, 165, 185, 189–193, 198, 204, 208, 215, 220; see also intersection, intersect Iredale Pedersen Hook Architects (IPH) 92–96, 142 Iveson K. 75, 212 Janssens A. V. 165 Johnson Pilton Walker (JPW) 135 Kacem M. B. 171, 205–206 Kevin O’Brien Architects 77–78 Knierbein S. 208 Koolhaas R. 108, 190–193, 203; see also Office for Metropolitan Architecture (OMA) Lacoue-Labarthe P. 172, 206, 208 Le Corbusier 53, 58, 190 Lesan M. 75–76, 111 Levisky Arquitectos Associados & Dietzsch A. and Brody Bond D. 116–117 Lina Bo Bardi 47–50, 67, 105–106 Low S. 150, 210, 218 Lucan J. 190 Lukács G. 18, 28 Lynch K. 15 Madanipour A. 2, 14–16, 104, 110, 124, 150, 211–213, 221–222 Marx K. 6–7, 28, 40–41, 173–174 Memmott P. 13 Mendes da Rocha P. 90, 103 Merleau-Ponty M. 18–19 Mossman M. 82 Moulène J.-L 152–159 Moussavi F. 28, 34–35 Muf 118–122, 207; see also Fior L. Murcutt G. 118 Nauman B. 183, 185, 187 non-hierarchical 19

Index 231 O’Brien K. 77–83 Office for Metropolitan Architecture (OMA) 108–109, 191; see also Koolhaas R. open and fluid 31, 202, 227; see also hyperconnectivity openness 13, 17, 51, 58, 75–76, 87, 89–90, 92, 95, 107–108, 121, 130–136, 196, 206; spatial openness 15, 20–21, 76, 121, 196, 202; functional openness 15, 21, 95, 121, 196, 198 partitioning 2–3, 60, 75, 138, 159, 162, 164–165, 170–171, 175, 198–199, 206, 217 Pharmakon 192–193, 205, 228 Piano R, Rogers R., and Franchini G. 50–51 Picon A. 151–152, 169 political, politics 3, 8, 14, 17, 19, 27–28, 30–31, 33–35, 38, 42–43, 45, 50, 56–57, 60–62, 65, 73, 75, 83, 90, 99–100, 104–106, 110–111, 113, 118, 123–124, 138–139, 141–142, 147, 150–153, 155–157, 160, 169, 171–173, 181, 186–187, 195, 198–199, 201–202, 205–207, 210, 214–215, 217, 221, 225–228 Pollock F. 173 public space 1, 3–4, 7–9, 13–16, 26–35, 38–44, 47–61, 65–67, 71–76, 79–81, 86–90, 92, 99–114, 116–124, 129–132, 138–147, 164, 169–172, 181, 188, 191, 196–198, 199–202, 204–205, 207, 210–212, 214–221, 225–228 publicness 1, 4, 14–16, 49–50, 62, 75, 89, 95, 100, 103–104, 108, 113, 119–120, 129, 211, 220, 226 Rahm P. 113, 161–166 Rahm P. and Décosterd J.-G 163 Rancière J. 7, 60, 99–100, 104, 123–124, 129, 206, 215 Reinmuth G. and Benjamin A. 76, 151, 175, 200–201 Reisner Y. 57–58, 62, 64–66 Relational Autonomy 195–197 resistance 2, 8, 18, 35, 57–58, 90, 108, 113, 128, 138, 175, 204–207, 212, 220, 226–228

retail shops 75–76, 197, 202, 207, 227 Ricciotti R. 109 Ruby A. 57–59 safety 89, 123, 129–132, 134, 136, 170, 226; see also security SANAA (Sejima, Kazuyo, and Nishizawa, Ryue) 62–67, 189, 196–197 Scaglione G. P. 56–59, 61 Schwarte L. 68, 104–105, 108, 110 security 89, 107, 129–136, 226; see also safety segregation 2, 7, 71, 75, 91, 107, 123, 138, 149–150, 152, 169–171, 175–176, 202, 212, 217–218, 221, 227–228 Semi-private Complex 175–176, 193, 202–205, 226–228 semi-private Pockets 116 Sennett R. 14, 100, 138, 150 Serra R. 52, 184–185, 187 service areas 16, 71–74 Simay P. 192 Simondon G. 2, 140 singular, singularity 4–6, 25–27, 31–34, 43, 58, 62, 64, 66, 103, 105, 108–109, 141, 151–153, 155–156, 158–159, 189–192, 198, 217 Sitek M. 112, 222 Siza Vieira Á 17–18, 47, 50–54, 67, 188 Snøhetta 101–102 social context 1, 4–6, 14, 27–28, 31, 35, 38–39, 104–106, 128, 159, 166, 173, 192, 198, 203, 225–228; metaphor for the changes of the 43, 50, 52, 61, 105, 186–187; metonymy of the 34, 61, 187, 207 SO-IL 66–68 space 1–3, 5, 13–14, 17, 20, 25–28, 32, 33–34, 42, 45, 49, 57, 62, 99–105, 110–111, 116–117, 121, 149–150, 156, 169–171, 181–186, 192, 197–199, 207–208, 210–213, 225–228; see also public space Split 2–3, 43, 138–140, 217, 228 Stiegler Ba 174 Stiegler Be 192 stigmatisation 123, 212, 218; nonstigmatisation 217 Straus E. 18 Stygian 140–142

232

Index

tensions 6–8, 13, 25–34, 42, 57–60, 82–83, 100, 159–160, 173, 189, 204, 211, 219; see also contradictions Third Space 81–82 threshold 1, 3–9, 13–20, 25–28; Threshold (concept) 3, 8, 81–83, 215–217; Architecture 38, 42–43, 88–96, 103, 176, 192–193, 199, 204–208, 211–212, 225–228 topology, topological 6, 9, 19, 30–31, 34–36, 60, 64, 67, 103, 109, 151–158, 188, 198 Varna G. and Tiesdell S. 15, 197, 212 visibility, visible 7, 14, 16, 19, 71–75,

89, 90–91, 100, 102, 119, 120–121, 123, 129, 139, 142, 149–150, 162–163, 172, 198, 211, 214, 215, 217, 219–221, 225 Walther F. E. 182–183 Wanderlust (Johanna Brummer and Heini-Emilia Saari) 72–73 Wijesurendra A. 91–92, 96 Wood P. K. and Gilbert L. 14, 117–118, 220 Wright F. L. 90, 190 Zaera-Polo A. 28–32, 34–35