Taking over the Ugly Doubt, the Stupid Body, my Beautiful Bastard - the Fictional Triptych An architectural handbook containing 6 responses to 6 feminist essays
Architecture + Gender: Feminist Design Power Tools Ass. Prof. Dr Hélène Frichot Critical Studies in Architecture KTH Stockholm AT 2013 by Christoph Kuhr
Content 01_Taking over the Inglorious, the Stupid, the Ugly and the Beautiful 02_The Precious Doubt 03_The Body, my Buddy 04_Beautiful Bastards 05_Triptych 06_Fictional Matter Bibliography
Taking over the Inglorious, the Stupid, the Ugly and the Beautiful In her text, „Woman‘s Environmental Rights: A Manifesto“, Leslie Kanes Weisman describes architecture as one tool to manifest the traditional role and inferior position of the woman in a social context ruled and build by white, male individuals.
She mentions the tower as a typology men has formed after his image, implying a similarity to a male phallus and describes the classical home as its counterpart, restricting in its build form the woman to her role as a house wife. She states that these conditions enhance sex role stereotypes and are still persistent in current designs.
Moreover, Kanes Weisman criticises how woman are hindered on numerous occasions in the public realm, creating various barriers and obstacles and claims tremendous discrimination on the housing market. She demands woman to insist on public spaces, buildings, transportation and housing that respond to their needs and lifestyle. She regards such spaces as essential to allow woman social and political participation.
She encourages woman to actively get involved into planning processes to be able to create more adequate environments.
As much as I agree with Kanes Weisman on the need for institutions to support woman and families in their everyday routine, as well as providing help and assistance in special situations and the demand for a barrier free public realm, I am very critical about the ideas on the oppressive power of architecture as stated by her. As she points out, architecture is, among other things, a manifestation of the ideas and intensions of their builders. An artefact of past times, persisting in our todays environment. At the same time, architecture is, despite its heavy materialisation, passive, helpless, even fragile, dependent on the mercy of the generations to follow. It is altered, torn, reused, dismantled, burned, abandoned, reinterpreted. Kanes Weisman gives the example of the traditional home, asserting it to be a spacial metaphor for traditional roles and reinforcing stereotypes and traditional views of family. The first claim might be right, the second is evidently wrong. The traditional house, for example the large amounts of 19. century housing which make the largest part of buildings in our cities, tell in fact a lot about the society from which they emerged. Even more than about the relationship between men and women it tells about class society, poverty and early capitalism. However, these very buildings have proven to be the probably most versatile typology there is, an assembly of generic rooms, providing space to all different kinds of living e.g. flat sharing, much different to the way and the conditions in which they were
originally used and build for, which now are hardly understood. Architecture is the most inefficient mean of power and propaganda. It is constantly misunderstood, reinterpreted, ignored, converted. Architecture is fragile and dull, but eventually beautiful. It carries meaning, but no intention. It has presence, but no power. An empty vessel to be made use of. Claiming its oppressive force rather than reusing, altering and ignoring its past inclinations is a self-victimisation that leaves the activist unnecessarily passive. Instead, existing structures should be taken over, adjusted, inhabited. Blaming the architecture only can be excuse or projection.
Refering to: Leslie Kanes Weisman, ‘Women’s Environmental Rights: A Manifesto’ in Jane Rendell, Barbara Penner, Iain Borden, eds, ‘Gender Space Architecture: An Interdisciplinary Introduction‘, London: Routledge, 2000, pp. 1-5
The Precious Doubt In her introduction to the book, „Feminist Practices - Interdisciplinary Approaches to Woman in Architecture“ Lori A. Brown describes the lack of representation of female architects both in practice and academia, as a motivation for doing the project.
She describes her own experience, working as an architect in a New York firm, where she was facing an tremendous underrepresentation of women and, even more extreme, of ethnic minorities. Encountering similar conditions when becoming teacher at university, she questions the reasons behind this phenomena, given the fact that 50 percent of students in the first semester are female and questions the ability of the profession to act appropriately in a most diverse society.
Furthermore, Brown describes her beginnings of research on this topic which resulted in the „Feminist Practices“ book and exhibition, as well as the specific contributions which make its content, pointing out their specific, feminist perspective.
I was curious about the fact stated by Lori A. Brown that although every second student starting architecture school is female, a significantly lower percentage finishes school and goes into practice. It shows an equal interest in the field, but what makes the female students give up and can a lack of representation have to do with it? Brown herself, who studied on this issue for years, admits to not have a satisfying answer to this. I am for obvious reasons even far less able to provide such, but will instead try to share some insights into the obstacles of being an architecture student. Academical failure in architecture school is almost impossible. No matter how bad you are performing, no matter how much your teachers dislike your project, as long as you are presenting something at the end of the term, it is quite certain you will pass whatsoever. Dropping architecture school has other reasons. And from my perspective it seems that a deep doubt in both, oneself as an architect, as well as architecture itself and the conditions in which it is produced is often the main cause. Paradoxically architectural achievement derives from these very same sources, constantly questioning one‘s own work and ideas, and a will to do better than what and how architecture is produced in our society today. This means, success and failure are very close. I have noticed that it is often friends in which I see the biggest potential are also those who question the idea of themselves becoming architects the hardest.
We have to imagine the good architecture student as a very sensitive being. And I think therefore the individual influences on becoming architects, when not feeling equally represented by their sex in practice and academia, are hard to tell, but can not be underestimated. The book and exhibition by Lori A. Brown can be a good contribution in tackling the gender issue in terms of representation. But what else can be changed to stop thoughtful and critical minds from turning their backs to the field of architecture? I feel that doubt should be given more space and attention. It has to be thought of as something precious, as a virtue rather than an obstacle. The power tool. Referring to: Lori Brown, ‘Introduction‘ Lori Brown, ed., ‘Feminist Practices - Interdisciplinary Approaches to Woman in Architecture‘,London: Ashgate, 2011
The Body, my Buddy In his text ‘The Mutant Body of Architecture’, an introduction to ‘Flesh: Architectural Probes by New York Architects Diller + Scofidio’, Georges Teyssot describes an upcoming age of Disembodiment, using dozens of references to art, film, science, thinkers and the architects D + S themselves. Among the examples given in his text are the extended use of media and technology which will allow the mind to go to and act in remote places and the progressive means of medicine, enabled to alter, exchange and replace parts of the human body. Teyssot then tries to refer these ideas and thoughts about the body to the field of architecture.
We understand architecture as a build form. An embodiment of the ideas and craft of its builders. There are multiple associations one can have between architecture and body. The protective skin, keeping cold and wet away. The clear difference between inside and outside of a defined form. A structural skeleton to which the flesh adheres to. The increasing amount of pipes and machines running invisibly through a building like guts through our bodies. That given, can we imagine an architecture without a body? And would this be a goal, a promise, scary, a disaster?
A superficial glimpse on the homepage of Diller + Scofidio + Renfro already reveals a little horror-show of some sort of disembodied architecture. It shows imaginary depictions of building-like structures, yet unclear about their materiality, structure and reasonable construction, often exposing their insides in an exaggerated and unrealistic way. Their lacks are replaced by intellectual concept. Not body, but games of the mind, which can be feared to remain unknown to the sensual being which might one time inhabit these spaces. Their thinking about disembodiment might have turned into a self fulfilling prophecy.
A different, much more luring approach to an architecture without a body can be found among current Japanese architects. Offices like SANAA, Sou Fujimoto or Junya Ishigami seem to challenge the western concept of a clear definition of inside and outside, aiming at an architecture without borders, but of transitions. All material is being reduced to its minimum, taking away the third dimension of depth, seeking the abstraction of a line sketch. White paint is pushing back materiality. An architecture aiming to disappear. But is such approach a smart and appropriate way of tackling architectural problems in our cultural context and climate, given all the regulations trying to reduce energy consumption for good reasons? Certainly it is not very practical and failure is a most probable outcome.
So why bother and not accept and celebrate the bodyness of architecture. A sensual thing for sensual beings. A physical presence. A shelter. A thoughtful construction. A thing to be enjoyed. A character. An object to relate to. referring to: Georges Teyssot, ‘The Mutant Body of Architecture’ in Elizabeth Diller and Ricardo Scofidio, Flesh: Architectural Probes, New York, Princeton Architectural Press, 1994.
Beautiful Bastards In her text, „A cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and SocialistFeminism in the Late Twentieth Century“, Donna Haraway uses the image of the cyborg to depict both, her identity as a feminist and writer and the state of the human being at the end of the last century, thereby opposing ideological holism in favour of a postmodern heteroglossia.
I was curious about Haraway‘s description of these hybrid beings, those couplings of machine and organism. Impure and completely without innocence, as she points out. What could be their architectural counterparts? For a lack of personal interest, I will not discuss the hypothetical impact of digital technologies on architectural design, but focus on the aspect of the imperfect breeding symbolised by the cyborg versus the seeking for purity of holistic thinking as a key-conflict described in the text, taking a look at the analogue cyborgs of architecture. Classical theory of architecture reduces its history to a sequence of architectural styles, their rise and decline, with a terrible neglect or even despise for the in-between. In doing so, one might argue, one finds a similar search for purity and wholeness as with the prepostmodernist ideologies described in the text.
Now, as we all turned into cyborgs as Haraway explains, it should be easy for us to cherish these dismissed works, full of invention and play. One of those curious breedings which happened to stumble into my life recently is Ragnar Östberg‘s 1918 Carl Eldh‘s Atelier in Stockholm‘s Bellevueparken. A true bricolage full of skilful awkwardness. Combining classicist motifs, such as a colonnade entrance, a tympanum and a rotunda with aspects of rural swedish homes and two extensively glazed atelier spaces, forecasting modernism, into a small wooden house. Truly, a beautiful bastard.1 So, if minimalism, an aesthetic ideology contrary to the cyborg concept, is seeking the pure form to which nothing can be added or subtracted, what are the promises of the both-and approach of cyborg-maximalism then? Possibly, a luring ambiguity and the joy of playful inconsequence. But more than that, the creation of singular objects with distinct character, defined by awkward genius and imperfection. Making each of them a true individual. Thus, while Haraway‘s digital cyborgs are a hybrid of machine and organism, the analogue cyborgs of architecture might appear as a quirky mixture between a house and a being.
But, as the machine-organism cyborg confronts us with much more ambiguous feelings than pure euphoria, should we also be unsettled by the architectural cyborg? Maybe, for it smashes all our hope for a valid form, confronting the architect guideless with an ocean of possibilities. The dilemma that, as Harraway puts it, „one is too few, but two is just one possibility.“ referring to: Donna Haraway, ‘Cyborg Manifesto’ in Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature, London: Free Association Books, 1991, pp. 149-181
1
For further examples of beautiful bastards, one might consider the red buildings by James
Stirling, which are really showing the finger to white modernity, or his Camberwell School Assembly Hall, a true little beast, as well as Sigurd Lewerentz Flower Kiosk in Malmö or the absurd creatures of John Hejduk.
Triptych I think most important is the table. It is a large table in a separate room. The dining room, but not just that. Also the working place and a room to gather. The central space of the flat. The table is long and slightly narrow, proportions are essential.
Consequence is the stupidity of praising architecture students for pushing through one principle, ones they applied it. I am still waiting for the praise I deserve for wearing the same pullover every day. I don‘t know, I think it should either be more of a building, or less of a building.
I am obsessed with chairs. They should all be different, but somehow alike. Like a family of most distinct characters, which still show these awkward resemblances both in look and habit as families share them. You should feel they belong.
Obliging to the tyranny of consequence is to disguise a lack of attitude. I see that, but what is the idea?!
The bedroom is the largest of the rooms. It is lit from two sides and has little in it. I never got the point of a bed. Sleeping with the mattress on the floor feels much more generous to the space. I am not sure about a closet. Its towering figure might dominate. Maybe there is a drawer instead. There is a chair in a corner to put clothes and a lamp next to the bed, but not much else, apart from the books and flowers.
Superstition in concept is only flight from the realities of the everyday. Bold concept has no value in its own right. I really like your models, they are quite helpful.
There is no living room. I wouldn‘t know what for.
Intuition is the only valid form of intelligence. Now, is it a building, or rather a structure?
The kitchenette shows a bricolage of drawers but they find together in pale colour. There is another table in the kitchen. Though, it is smaller and if you sit, you look out into the backyard. It feels more casual, but good.
Do you think you can walk on the roof?
Consistence and explanation is cowardly, as explanation is justification. Neither ugliness nor beauty adheres to those principles.
Maybe it should be like a landscape, you could enter here, it slopes down on this side..
Designing without idea is the ultimate virtue. Bathing, you see a glimpse of sky. inspired by: Jane Rendell, Site-Writing: The Architecture of Art Criticism, London: I.B. Tauris, 2010.
Fictional matter
In her essay, „A Vitalist Stopover on the Way to a New Materialism“, Jane Bennett describes the Vitalist position of German biologist and thinker Hans Driesch as one source of inspiration on her way to a new „thing power“-materialism. Thereby, as she points out, Driesch does insist on the difference between unfree, mechanical and deterministic matter and the vital force of life, but tries to tie them as close together as possible, and, in doing so, poses as one predecessor to Bennet‘s „vital“-materialism which tries to overcome these contradictions.
Moreover, she unveils the ideological entanglement that often goes along with a vitalist viewpoint, contradicting the „critical“ vitalism of Diesch with the „naive“ vitalist ideology of the „culture of life“, advocated by evangelical and Catholic Christians, as well as the Bush administration at the beginning of this century.
As architecture students, we have our very own problems, dealing with matter, though on first sight, much less sophisticated. That is, the obstacle of learning a craft, that ruled out, will speak to its users through its materialised reality only, but about never being in the situation of testing and experiencing one‘s designs in a materialised 1:1 situation. A dilemma from which, I believe, many of our student fooleries derive and, it seems, some architects have never recovered from. Thus, one could say, the architecture student, but also the designing architect is caught in a constant mode of simulation, unable to test its architectural claims first hand, but using all kinds of tools or media, all with different modes of abstraction, to represent what might never exist. But as the pursued result of the architectural process never shows, also the accuracy of the tool can hardly be estimated, leaving the student flying blind through the foggy clouds of architecture. One would classically expect the materialised form to be the one and only goal of the architect, using all tools at hand to pursue it. However, when this goal is out of reach from the very beginning, the tools themselves easily shift into the focus of attention, developing an awkward life of their own.
They form their own fictional worlds in which the architecture students operate, somewhat detached from the realities of materialised architecture, with their very own rules and virtues. In this world, the media, depicting architecture easily turn from tool to fetish, forming the fictional matter of architecture, luring to fuel our vanities. referring to: Jane Bennett, ‘A Vitalist Stopover on the Way to a New Materialism’ in Diana Coole and Samantha Frost, eds. New Materialisms: Ontology, Agency, and Politics, Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2010, pp. 47-69.
Bibliography Leslie Kanes Weisman, ‘Women’s Environmental Rights: A Manifesto’ in Jane Rendell, Barbara Penner, Iain Borden, eds, ‘Gender Space Architecture: An Interdisciplinary Introduction‘, London: Routledge, 2000, pp. 1-5 Lori Brown, ‘Introduction‘ Lori Brown, ed., ‘Feminist Practices - Interdisciplinary Approaches to Woman in Architecture‘,London: Ashgate, 2011 Georges Teyssot, ‘The Mutant Body of Architecture’ in Elizabeth Diller and Ricardo Scofidio, Flesh: Architectural Probes, New York, Princeton Architectural Press, 1994. Donna Haraway, ‘Cyborg Manifesto’ in Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature, London: Free Association Books, 1991, pp. 149-181 Jane Rendell, Site-Writing: The Architecture of Art Criticism, London: I.B. Tauris, 2010. Jane Bennett, ‘A Vitalist Stopover on the Way to a New Materialism’ in Diana Coole and Samantha Frost, eds. New Materialisms: Ontology, Agency, and Politics, Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2010, pp. 47-69.