Going Underground. A reconfigured perception of underground space.

+ Berta Garriga

G o i n g Underground A reconfigured perception of underground space

Going Underground A reconfigured perception of underground space + Berta Garriga

MArch Urban Design The Bartlett School of Architecture

London, 2017 - 2018 University College of London

Design Thesis Report Berta Garriga 17131334 RC11: Anthropogenic Topographies, Threshold Evolutions Ana Abram, Aisling O’Carroll History and Theory Rae Whittow-Williams

Special thanks to Rae Whittow-Williams for her supervision and support.

Thanks to the Bartlett School of Architecture and our

tutors, for pushing day to day and encouraging us to think beyond the conventional.

How can designers reconfigure the perception of the underground and enhance human experiences within subterranean spaces?

+ FIG.1. Texture I - Geological Model, author’s own, 2018.

Contents + Preface. Shifting Ground

8

+ Introduction. Going Underground

11

+ Part I

RETURNING TO SHELTERS The Underground Today

13

Returning to Shelters

15

Sustainable benefits of Going Underground

20

DEATH OF NATURE Notes on the Underground

25

Death of Nature

27

Introduction to Underground Urbanism

Discussion: Underground planning challenges

+ Part II

23

Function and Significance

30

Discussion: Disparity between reality and fiction

37

Metaphor and Imagery: Mental Landscape

+ Part III

18

32

THE WEIGHT OF STONE Notes from the Underground

41

The Weight of Stone

43

Underground Design

53

Psycho-geology of the Underground

46

+ Conclusion. Change of Paradigm

62

+ Notes

67

+ Bibliography

68

+ List of figures

71

+ Preface Shifting Ground This thesis report is presented as a complement to the design project: a re-

configured perception of the underground based on the definition of ‘space’ in architecture and the strong implication on designers for human experience of these

spaces. The design project has explored a specific symbiotic relationship between landscape and human environments, understanding the impacts of urban develop-

ment in landscape processes and vice versa. In particular, groundwater extraction sites for public supply have accelerated the sinking process of unstable and changeable geology, destabilizing hydraulic pressures while the city’s massive weight com-

pact the soil from above. Land subsidence consequent from the over extraction

of aquifers together with the increasing contamination of groundwater resources result in a multidimensional chaos. Once assumed the impact of this infrastructural

system on landscape subsidence, the project suggests using water wells strategically as a tool to shape and observe the landscape. The resulting deep sectional model of

this intervention is nothing more than a gradual approximation of the land surface to the rock strata. By understanding this geological process as an urban process, the design project proposes a responsive and dynamic approach for ecological and

infrastructural development of this shifting ground. Subsurface geology is steadily materialised from the surface enabling underground experiences. For this reason,

the present thesis report provides a clear framework to understand various perspectives of underground space over time from history, literature and philosophical

standpoints, in order to delimit the ambivalence of underground space in the design project. This critical analysis of the perception of underground space will also contribute to the emerging discussions about the future challenges of the underground –and urban development.

10

+ FIG.2. Shifting Ground, author’s own, 2018.

11

12

+ Introduction Going Underground “What are the consequences when human beings dwell in an environment that

is predominantly built rather than given?” (Williams, 2008, 1) During the late nineteenth century, a new thought emerged: environmental consciousness. Humans have influenced the faces of the Earth so far; “the human environment has always

been, to some degree, artificial” (Williams, 2008, 1). Within the era of the Anthropocene, technological environments have clearly dominated the natural environment, in so far as ‘technological progress’ sometimes means the ‘destruction of nature’.

Paradoxically, humankind fears similarly both nature and technology, on account of the lack of perceived control of the environment. Fears of nature fall back onto

the increasingly frequency of natural disasters and the inability to predict with conviction. Fears of technology stand on the growing complexity of systems that are beyond human comprehension. In order to encompass nature’s unpredictability and

technological complexity, the underground system has been used literally and metaphorically to embed both paradigms.

This Going Underground thesis report is a suggestion to reconfigure the under-

ground system as a new space for future inhabitation. In doing so, the report will

provide a strong focus on the definition of ‘space’ in architecture and the qualities that these need to take into consideration to enhance human experience in the underground environment. Going Underground provides a holistic vision of how the

underground system has been experienced over time and how this should be incorporated in the design process of subterranean spaces. Furthermore, this paper aims to understand how the underground has been moulded by ‘technological progress’ and how these have negatively shifted our perceptions of ‘being underground’.

Nature and technology are strongly associated in underground space; however, + FIG.3. Texture II - Geological Model, author’s own, 2018.

13

this is arranged in the form of technology battling nature’s disruptions. Within this

confrontation in action, humankind has consequently lost engagement with underground space. How can designers reconfigure the perception of the underground and enhance human experiences within subterranean spaces?

Taking into account this intent, the thesis report is organised into three sections.

The first section will explore the idea of Returning to Shelters –how architectural de-

sign is returning to the primitive idea of building human shelters in order to protect humankind from natural disasters and technological pressures– and how underground space can contribute to more sustainable and resilient cites. In the second

section, Death of Nature, this paper underlines divergent interpretations of the underground throughout history and how these spaces have been negatively experienced in the past as completely inorganic environments (Mumford, 2010), fearsome

spaces related to hell, and burrows for outcasts of society. In the last section, The

Weight of Stone, these adverse experiences throughout history are examined with

regard to human perceptions of ‘being underground’ within dark and enclosed environments, and how the design of these spaces is crucial to reconfigure the negative perceptions of the underground towards new urban experiences.

14

+ PART

I

Returning to Shelters: The Underground Today Part one provides a general overview of

the underground today in urbanism and how better planning and management

of subterranean spaces can contribute to more sustainable and resilient cities.

Returning to Shelters “Humanity’s earliest constructions were burrows rather than buildings. The wish to return to dark, enclosed safety of the womb is so primitive as to be premythic” (Williams, 2008, 190). Human found security from nature in self-contained environments,

“providing shelter from a hostile natural world” (Williams, 2008, 190). In prehistoric times, the natural environment was perceived as a threat hence humanity found

safety underground: “the underground was a comforting refuge from natural dan-

gers above ground” (Toth, 1993, 170). The cave is the first artificial environment lived in by man, the prime notion of measurable interiority within a space disassociated from the exterior world.

Throughout history, this sense of intimacy and protection within underground

space was shifted sharply into the basis of modern industry (Williams, 2008). The underground became the most significant evidence of technological progress, the ver-

itable motor of modern cities: the underground contains the primary infrastructure

that made urban life possible. However, “there is a tendency to utilize underground

space for the less ornamental purposes of civilization” (Wells, 2017, 46) and the underground has been used as a hiding place to accommodate anything that urban

civilisations wanted to keep out of sight. This fact leads to a certain unpredictability and incertitude of an entirely underground network.

Today, the underground is recovering its relevance in urbanism as a potential

space for urban experience. This fact is not only driven by rapid urbanisation and

resulting needs of space in congested cities but also motivated by the second major

challenge facing the world: natural disasters and the changing climate. Sustainable urban development calls for resilient cities with a new approach to climate change

adaptation: how can underground space contribute to both rapid urbanisation and city resilience? (Cornaro & Admiraal, 2012) Recent projects such as the Helsinki Un-

17

+ FIG.4. Texture III - Geological Model, author’s own, 2018.

19

GOING UNDERGROUND

derground Master Plan in 2010 or the virtuous SMART Motorway tunnel in Kuala Lumpur in 2003 have demonstrated that underground space can contribute not

only with an additional spatial and service layer, but also as a form of sustainable urban development.

Introduction to Underground Urbanism “Urban Underground Space (UUS) use has been growing significantly in the world’s

biggest and wealthiest cities” (Bobylev, 2016, 40). “The world’s urban population living in urban areas is estimated to exceed 61 per cent by 2030” (Godard, 2004, 1)

following the staggering 50% recorded in 2010. As cities are expanding, so is the

pressure for underground construction. The intensification of UUS development in cities is driven not only by the lack of surface space but also by the need for a

better environment: traffic, pollution, waste disposal, and economic feasibility. Underground space has therefore been designated by some to solve the predominant

urban problems of modern civilisations. However, encouraging a better environment on the surface by exploiting the UUS without vision and planning can lead to non-sustainable development with negative consequences.

Until the end of the twentieth century, the use of underground space has been

developed without measure according to urban requirements, open to the ‘first

come, first served’ principle. Underground urbanism has evolved in the present century as a new discipline intended to enhance underground planning and con-

tribute to better forms of sustainable urban development: providing liveable cities and preparing the world for the impact of climate change. With this intention, a

new worldwide committee has been setup to address underground urbanism: The International Tunnelling Association Committee of Underground Space (ITACUS).

This organisation not only looks at how the use of underground space can help cities to meet sustainable challenges, but also explores how the next generations of infrastructures should become more ecological (Broere, 2016).

For the first time, underground space is not just addressing a lack of surface

space but contributing to enhance cities to be more resilient and inclusive. Arup

has recently discussed in a workshop entitled ‘The Social Value of Underground

Space’ organized by Think Deep association in London 28th September 2017, “how a

20

RETURNING TO SHELTERS

coordinated, citywide underground planning has been missing” (ibid., 18) and “what

factors must planning of the underground consider” (ibid., 26). These factors are far

more centred on promoting social values and sustainability rather than solving the needs of space for future development. Arup remarked: “Which uses are needed

more in certain locations and why? What effect will geology have on these uses/ proposals? What form should underground planning/guidance take? Which uses should be prioritized and why?” (ibid., 26)

+ FIG.5. Extract of Helsinki’s Underground Master Plan, 2010. Dark grey: existing underground spaces, grey: planned underground spaces, light grey: rock resources reserved for the construction of underground facilities, lightest grey: rock surface less than 10 m below the ground surface.

21

GOING UNDERGROUND

Helsinki has released the first Underground Master Plan (UMP) to control underground construction work, ensuring “an environmentally sustainable and aestheti-

cally acceptable landscape, anticipated structural longevity and the maintenance of opportunity for urban development by future generations” (Vähäaho, 2014, 387).

The master plan safeguards existing underground spaces, reserves areas for future development, and establishes a complex interrelated connection between existing and future subterranean facilities.

The relevance of master planning Helsinki’s vast subterranean resources is the strategic decentralisation of the underground demand in the inner city, and the allocation of new reservations according to geological conditions: “deepest public

underground spaces have been taken into consideration when presenting free rock resources” (Vähäaho, 2014, 394). The reconfiguration of planning to bedrock conditions can reduce the cost-effective feasibility of underground structures and their footprints. Helsinki is the first city in the world to use a sustainable urban development model based on geology.

Another characteristic of this innovative planning is the self-containment of ma-

jor underground facilities for municipal and other technical services (energy, water supply and telecommunications) in large-scale closed networks (Vähäaho, 2014).

These facilities are connected underground by utility tunnels, comprising different

functions in one single infrastructure. The most noticeable advantage of this ar-

rangement is the flexibility gained with a global planned networked system allowing different routes as necessary with multiple links and optimising energy generation with major transmission networks. This strategy not only enhances a model of sus-

tainable urban development, but also empowers Helsinki as a model of a resilient city.

Sustainable benefits of Going Underground Public perception of the potential uses and related benefits of underground space

is very limited (Godard, 2004). “The benefits offered by underground structures are

directly based on certain specific qualities of underground space” (ibid., 3). Although

underground development provides opportunities to use urban space more effec-

22

RETURNING TO SHELTERS

tively, it requires high initial investment for construction compared to similar structures built on the surface (National Research Council, 2013). For this reason, “more

is known about monetary lifecycle costs and benefits, while less is known about long-term environmental or social impacts” (ibid., 125). Nevertheless, the inherent quality of underground space is that it constitutes a ‘space’ itself hence its usage has a variety of advantages.

The first undeniable benefit of underground development is that it “provides

the opportunity to use the surface space for other purposes such as green space” (National Research Council, 2013, 129). This means not only that underground devel-

opment liberates the surface for more recreational uses, but it also suggests locating underground those activities that are difficult or not suitable to accommodate on

the surface. Consequently, the underground can “protect the surface environment

from risks and disturbances inherent in certain activities” (Godard, 2004, 3). Examples of unobtrusive urban mass transit systems, water treatment plants, gas storage

facilities, nuclear waste, landfills and other large infrastructures are placed under-

ground reducing their overall environmental impact to neighbouring residences.

In fact, “the underground is the only safe location for storage of nuclear waste and

other hazardous or undesirable materials” (Roberts, 1996, 385)

Secondly, “congestion in urban areas has been dramatically reduced by the use

of the underground” (Roberts, 1996, 385). According to recent papers, if the trend

of the automobile industry continues growing at the same rate, in 2025 the number of automobiles will be four times the current quantity. Ray Sterling described in

a conference held in July 1995 in Minnesota (Roberts, 1996): “Major infrastructure

projects have profound impacts on the shape of development on a local, regional,

and national scale. Public infrastructure can lead the form of development rather than be a follower”. Underground transit systems not only provide safe, efficient, and inconspicuous transportation but can ameliorate the influence of highways and other infrastructural systems on the urban form.

The third sustainable quality of the underground is that is highly adaptive to all

types of climates: “the temperature within the soil or rock offers a moderate and

uniform thermal environment compared with the extremes of surface temperatures” (Godard, 2004, 4). Underground installation provides a wide range of energy savings and preserve products from extreme temperatures. In addition to this, underground structures are discrete and protected within the geological medium. For this

23

GOING UNDERGROUND

reason, the subsurface becomes a suitable space for those activities with high levels of energy consumption-emission, and likewise require a certain level of privacy. Examples of underground space for bulk storage of food, governmental documents, digital data and geothermal energy are being for widely used today.

+ FIG.6. Pionen data centre, 2008; located 100ft below ground in a former Cold War nuclear bunker, Stockholm, Sweden.

Lastly, the underground is well known as an emergency shelter against the mete-

orological effects of climate change. For thousands of years, it has provided humans

refuge and indispensable natural resources (National Research Council, 2013). Recently, it has been demonstrated that subterranean infrastructures are more inherently resilient and less susceptible to the effects of earthquakes than surface struc-

tures: they “offer better natural protection against environmental elements” (Broere,

2016, 247). Underground facilities are embedded in a solid mass where the majority of vibrations and external forces can be cushioned by geological strata. “It has been

demonstrated by several recent earthquakes that tunnels behave very well in earthquakes” (Roberts, 1996, 385). For this reason, underground infrastructure is intrinsi24

RETURNING TO SHELTERS

cally resilient. In addition to this, there are vast obsolete underground constructions

from past military purposes, catacombs, air shelters and mineral extraction which in terms of sustainability, could be used for multiple purposes. “Well maintained, resil-

ient, and adequately performing underground infrastructure, therefore, becomes an essential part of sustainability” (Nation Research Council, 2013, 68)

Discussion: Underground planning challenges Urban underground space plays a vital role in creating more liveable cities: it con-

tributes to a better environment and can offer resilient infrastructures. Although the Underground Master Plan approach demonstrated by Helsinki is not yet a worldwide practice, future planning and responsible management of underground space

can reconfigure the spatial dialogue between competing functions and hence de-

velop a model for sustainable development. In this way, planning below the surface should incorporate multi-functional purposes rather than leave the use to the ‘first come, first served’ principle.

The SMART tunnel built in 2007 in Kuala Lumpur is a clear example of multi-pur-

pose development that utilises underground space. The 13.2m diameter tunnel combines a 4km dual-deck motorway with a 9.7km storm water bypass construc-

tion. The dual-purpose SMART tunnel is divided into three sections and works on a three-mode system: it exchanges the use of the channels between motorists and

floodwater according to weather conditions. The SMART tunnel not only integrates an intelligent technology allowing the infrastructure to operate in different manners,

but it also conjointly solves two problems with one single infrastructure: mitigating flash flooding in Kuala Lumpur and reducing traffic jams during daily rush hours.

Planning on the subsurface has three potential challenges. First, underground

planning cannot be seen and it is severely restricted to geophysical constraints. For

this reason, and despite the necessity of planning against uncontrolled development, guidelines for underground space design cannot be universal in their appli-

cation and will require a rigorous understanding of the geological context of each

location. Second, “the underground interferes with natural processes which occur at

vastly different time scales than life on the surface” (Cornaro & Admiraal, 2012, 7).

Subterranean planning should take into account the human implications on natural

25

GOING UNDERGROUND

processes, although the precise influence of these is hard to measure. Accordingly,

programming underground space in consonance with the geological medium is

essential, hence ecology and biodiversity should be incorporated into the design of these spaces. Finally, underground space faces social and psychological challenges.

Above ground, humans have control of their surrounding environment and can

freely move in open space, whereas underground structures have restricted visibility

and there is no access unless it is dug out or excavated. This distinction between above-below perceptions carries different interpretations throughout history, being notably related to political, social and cultural contexts. For this reason, planning for

Going Underground should take into account human perceptions of underground

space and reconfigure assumed preconceived notions of negative values through its design.

+ FIG.7. Construction of the SMART tunnel in Kuala Lumpur, Indonesia, 2007.

26

+ PART

II

Death of Nature: Notes on the Underground Part two is structured as a historical framework of underground space,

exploring the evolution of subterranean function, significance, metaphor and

imagery in relation with historical, political and social contexts.

Death of Nature Since the beginning of mankind, civilisation has been developing techniques and creating the necessary tools to allow human settlement on Earth. The origin of the broadest definition of technology coincides with the invention of all primary tools and techniques that modified nature for human existence. However, the peak of

technology as an engineering subject is revealed during the fifteenth century with the enchantment of mining and subsequent introduction of mechanization. In Tech-

nics and Civilization, Lewis Mumford (2010) describes the mine as a model of the inorganic environment created and lived in by man: “it is a dark, a colourless, a

tasteless, a perfumeless, as well as a shapeless world: the leaden landscape of a perpetual winter” (ibid., 70). Mumford raises his discussion to the disenchantment

of the world and Death of Nature, when nature is subjected to scientific rationalism

and, therefore, tools and techniques solely rely on forming Humans Empire rather than holding the meaningful nature of the Earth.

Before the scientific revolution, nature was seen as a nurturing mother (Toth,

1993), but with the march of mining operations and failures in the construction of complex subterranean structures, nature was then perceived as a source of hazard.

This version of nature was significant in opposition to technology, which was the

unique source of safety (Williams, 2008). In addition to this, technological upheaval

inevitably involved the configuration of a new social order: subterranean labourers were distinguished literally and metaphorically from upper society. “Subterranean

life was experienced only by those at the bottom of social ladder; the underground lost its ‘nurturing mother’ mystique” (Toth, 1993, 175). Underground space became the excellence of an artificial environment disconnected from nature; a region of

sorrow and death. During the end of the nineteenth century, relevant literature nar-

ratives displayed this association between technology and social degeneration in 29

+ FIG.8. Texture IV - Geological Model, author’s own, 2018.

GOING UNDERGROUND

the underworld: Victor Hugo in Les Misérables (1862), Jules Verne in A Journey to the

Centre of the Earth (1864), and H.G. Wells in The Time Machine (1895).

The significance of the underground has changed drastically throughout history

according to physical and intangible factors. The underground is both a physical

place and metaphor for social change: ”the boundaries between fantasy and reality

became vague and blurred in regard to the subterranean” (Lesser, 1987, 5). The im-

agery of the underworld not only connotes divergent interpretations over time, but also it is remarkably ambivalent: luxury-poverty, attraction-repulsion, horror-quietude, and progress-destruction.

Function and Significance Subterranean space has served for multiple functions (habitation, mining, sepulchral, military shelters, transportation networks, storage and space for utilities) and

associated with divergent significances over time (artificial environment, technological progress, pillar of modern society and social refuge). The occupation of underground space has changed throughout history greatly in accordance with the evolution of human settlement and technological progress (Williams, 2008). As a

case in point, the cave was the first form of human inhabitation and the first usage of underground space when technology –understood here as the application of

scientific knowledge for practical purposes– was revealed with the simple usage of survival tools. The construction of these early tools was possible during prehistoric mining with the extraction of stone, ceramics and later, metals. Over time, human settlement changed simultaneously to more complex mining processes, as

the requirement for new materials in above-ground construction was rising at the same speed as modern machinery evolved. This is the primary evidence of underground-technology interdependence.

The most noticeable transition in the significance of the underground occurred

between late 1700s and 1800s during the Industrial Revolution (Toth, 1993), where hand production methods shifted to new manufacturing processes. From this pe-

riod, the underground was converted to the basis of modern industry (Williams,

2008): the use of underground space for hidden amenities. Major technological events and design of new infrastructural networks occurred during this epoch: the

32

DEATH OF NATURE

+ FIG.9. Brunel’s Thames Tunnel, 1825-1843: the first tunnel driven beneath a body of water, London, UK.

33

GOING UNDERGROUND

invention of the steam engine to drain groundwater from mines, the installation

of modern sewage systems allowing distinction between water mains for public sup-

ply and wastewater for treatment (e.g. Haussmann and Belgrand subterranean Paris

development in 1850), the initiation of subway transportation –originated in 1863 in London between Paddington and Farringdon– and the origin of undergrounding1 –originated in 1812 for the detonation of mining explosives in Russia, in 1850 for

telegraph signals across the English Channel and in 1880 for insulation of DC ‘’street pipes’’ for electricity by Thomas Edison–.

In Notes on the Underground, Rosalind Williams (2008) suggests that excava-

tion projects were in part a quest of technological power from the sciences of the nineteenth century –geology, palaeontology, anthropology, and archaeology–. She

believes that “excavation projects were a supreme emblem of what the age under-

stood as progress” (ibid., 53) and the installation of the infrastructural systems underneath the urban surface meant that, for the first time in history, “excavation became a part of everyday life: mining came out of the hinterlands into the heart of the city” (ibid., 52). Here, she argues not only how subterranean constructions became testimonies of technological environments, but how underground space developed a dual ambivalence among the middle class of society: on one hand, excavation was seen as a form of technical dominance of humans and engineering heroism; on the other hand, evident dangers of underground construction and failures in the advancement of technology, enabled mining as a form of punishment for subterranean labourers (Toth, 1993), emerging a new social order and distinction. During the end of the nineteenth century, underground significance was both experienced as a triumph of the manufactured environment and as the social degeneration of subterranean society.

Metaphor and Imagery: Mental Landscape For centuries, the underworld has been used in literature and history as a versatile environment on which imaginations avidly feed: “It is the perfect dark, unknown,

and foreboding terrain” (Toth, 1993, 169). Frightening philosophical and psychological notions of the underground have been passed through generations, evolving

metaphorically as a “mental landscape, a social environment, and an ideological

map” (ibid., 169).

34

DEATH OF NATURE

In The Life below the Ground, Wendy Lesser (1987) portrays the universal usage

of the underground as a metaphor for the human condition: “the underground is

itself an excellent metaphor for metaphor. It is, on the one hand, a real place in the world, and on the other hand it is an idea or a feeling: the physical place seems in-

herently suggestive of the spiritual or literary connotations, and those connotations

in turn enrich our experience of the material object” (ibid., 3). Subterranean spaces

have been used as metaphors of hell, crime, poverty, madness, socio-technological change, scientific and philosophical truth, intellectual inquiry, source of knowledge and environmental consciousness.

+ FIG.10. Bridge over Chaos, 1824-1826; John Milton’s Paradise Lost engravings. Underworld represented as the essence of the sublime: Satan’s return to hell. Incomprehensible depths, inky eternity, and chaotic reunion between Satan, Sin and Death.

The origin of the underworld imagery began during the Middle Ages with the

earliest mining operations. Before the scientific revolution, the underworld was a

sacred entity: ritual operations and religious ceremonies were held before sinking a mine (Toth, 1993). In the Renaissance, however, descending to the underworld was

35

GOING UNDERGROUND

transformed into narratives as a heroic discovery of a hidden inner world: “an ad-

venturous, mad or unlucky traveller discovers and underworld, which he enters and

from which he sometimes fails to reemerge” (ibid., 171). William Beckford’s Vathek

(1787) is a literary example of this heroic discovery. Here, the underworld is portrayed as eternal despair, a demoniac underground. Vathek is “the first truly atro-

cious hell in literature” (ibid., 171).

+ FIG.11. The Gothic Arch, 1761; selection from Giovanni Battista PIranesi’s imaginary prisons.

At the beginning of the first industrial revolution, subterranean imagery had

the first turning point where underground images were transferred to technology

in general (Williams, 2008). “Technology provided new images of the underground,

and some literature began to depict the depths as source of knowledge and philosophical truth” (Toth, 1993, 172). Natural sciences were dependent on underground

imagery to metaphorically dig into the ‘truth of nature’, discovery of ‘deep time’ –the assumption that “time is correlated with space, that digging down into the earth 36

DEATH OF NATURE

is also going back into the past” (Williams, 2008, 23). Throughout the eighteenth century, excavations were metaphors for proud changes, the abstract progress of

civilisation (Toth, 1993). During this same epoch, the initialization of artificial lighting introduced a mysterious and diabolic sublimity into underworld imagery. Under-

ground space was no longer represented as ugly, repulsive, slimy dark, but as a form of sublime tension in an infinite artificial environment. The imaginary prisons of Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720-1778) are an architectural approximation of an overwhelming sense of enclosure and artificial infinity (Williams, 2008) (fig.11).

The nineteenth century brought a new serial of underground interpretations.

The underground was a space of sorrow and death not only in a metaphorical sense, but literal for subterranean communities. In the Mole People, Jennifer Toth (1993)

describes the social underground where “people striving to survive and maintain a

modicum of dignity have been trapped physically beneath the surface rather than trapped by social circumstances” (ibid., 173). Descending to the subsurface was

here portrayed as a quest of social truth and awareness of plausible vertical cuts

of society (Williams, 2008). With Les Misérables (1862), Victor Hugo represented the unbreakable ties between above-below societies in an evil and dangerous underground. In this epoch, fears of discovering an inner world shifted towards fears

of building an inner society: “The technological possibility of building underground

society brought concerns of social engineering, and with them, a profound fear that technology was growing beyond society’s control” (Toth, 1993, 174).

During the late nineteenth century and beginning of the twentieth, the under-

ground became less frightening and more attractive with the increase of its utilisation for social benefits (Toth, 1993). The introduction of underground transportation

and subterranean tourism allowed middle and even upper classes to experience the underground: “subterranean images became familiar sights” (Williams, 2008,

81) and “in the cultural language of imagery, the middle classes began to establish

connections between the new technological infrastructure and the new structures of society and consciousness” (ibid., 81). The advancements in safe artificial lighting systems replaced the first set of images –those of diabolical artificial sublimity– from

the eighteenth century, with a second set of images of magic illuminated enclosures (Williams, 2008). The technological-aesthetic fantasies of Jules Verne in A Journey to

the Centre of the Earth (1864) reflected these splendid underworlds (fig.12). Gradually, technological environments reconceptualised their aesthetic principle from sub37

GOING UNDERGROUND

limity to the beauty of a magical paradise: “the image of artificial infinity gradually

shed its aura of terror and assumed the mantle of enchantment” (ibid., 95). The inorganic beauty of the underworld created an ambivalent state of both nervous tension and pleasure, returning fantasy into the subterranean iconography.

+ FIG.12. Illustrations by Edouard Riou in Jules Verne’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth, 1864.

Today, the underworld remains as mental landscape but is seldom portrayed

as a magic paradise. Jennifer Toth defines that the underground “carries a mosaic

of contemporary social and political images: revolution, avant-garde newspapers, organised crime left-wing terrorism, and drug trafficking” (Toth, 1993, 176). In con-

trast, Rosalind Williams uses the subterranean metaphor as a form of environmental

consciousness particularly from the twentieth century –the awareness that we are in a very real sense not on the earth but inside it– “Until now, we have not felt

like underground dwellers because the natural system of the globe has seemed so large in comparison with any systems we might construct. That is changing. What is 38

DEATH OF NATURE

commonly called environmental consciousness could be described as subterranean consciousness” (Williams, 2008, 212).

Discussion: Disparity between reality and fiction Underground space conveys multiple functions, significances, metaphors and images throughout history. “Subterranean iconography connects the historical expe-

rience of excavation and the literally interpretation of underworlds as technological environments” (Williams, 2008). However, there is a conspicuous disparity between actuality and imagination, between the physical and the mental landscape.

In subterranean history of the nineteenth century, the physical excavation oper-

ation was defined as “the advancement of knowledge and the conquest of exter-

nal nature” (Williams, 2008, 204). The modern clean sewers of Paris or the Brunel’s

tunnel under the river Thames are bold examples of the scientific and technological progress of the century. These advancements in technology also enabled a new

social distinction between capital and labour, between the rich and the poor work-

ing class2 that was both reality and fiction. In The Time Machine (1895), H.G. Wells portrays this social vertical topography, where labouring classes were deep beneath

the wealthiest part of society. The labouring classes were depicted as the veritable motors of the modern life above ground. The physical underground was both a form of engineering triumph and a place for outcasts of society.

In the imaginative literature of the last century, however, the reasons of Going

Underground were far more sombre (Williams, 2008). These stories are motivated primarily by the disastrous events of the century and the incessant human quest for

security. Fictional disasters that drive humanity underground are well documented. These disasters are not only natural but ecological catastrophes “in which na-

ture collapse because of excessive human demands” (ibid., 197). The reason for constructing underground space in the first place is to find security from nature’s

risks and imperfections. Subsequently, contemporary images of the underground represent ‘progress as destruction’, ‘nature as political’ and ‘catastrophe as revo-

lution’ and sculpture the ideal shelter “against all terminal threats to the natural

world” (ibid., 208). Underground burrows represented by Paolo Soleri3 during the

end of the twentieth century, addressed the ecological anxiety of scarce resources

39

GOING UNDERGROUND

+ FIG.13. Arcosanti - arcology, conceptual drawing by Paolo Soleri, 1969.

40

DEATH OF NATURE

41

GOING UNDERGROUND

and the need to self-contain urban life to evade natural, ecological and military disasters (fig.13). As Rosalind Williams points out in Notes, “technology maximizes

the benefits of nature (sunshine, rainfall, mineral deposits) and minimizes its harmful potential (droughts, high winds, floods). Since the industrial revolution, howev-

er, the construction of a primarily technological environment has overturned these assumptions. The category of disaster no longer implies nature’s assault against technology’s shelter. Indeed, the pervasive fear of the twentieth century is not what it can do to us, but what we might do to it” (ibid., 189).

Subterranean spaces can express a positive view of technology with the con-

struction of safe shelters against natural and ecological disasters, but they have also been portrayed as fearsome technological environments that are beyond society’s control. Similarly, subterranean iconography has had a shifting aesthetic trans

valuation transmitting ambivalent perceptions throughout generations –from ugly,

repulsive, slimy dark, to sublime artificial infinitude to inorganic beauty– (Williams, 2008). The underground has taken on, therefore, an immense cultural dimension.

42

+ PART

III

The Weight of Stone: Notes from the Underground Part three explores how human experience underground spaces and how they perceive ‘the weight of stone’. This

last section unfolds both pleasant and

dreadful characteristics of subterranean environments that perforce should be

considered in the design process of these spaces.

The Weight of Stone As mentioned in part two from this thesis report, underground space conveys different interpretations throughout history. Most of these interpretations have brought

negative culture-based associations in regard to the subterranean. Several studies

have demonstrated that human experiences in subterranean spaces are not different from those occurring within enclosed interior spaces above-ground. However,

public perception is more demanding in the underground due to this cultural sub-

conscious imagery and the fact that these spaces are ‘under’ the ground, perceiving the weight of stone.

Despite this, most of the negative associations in underground space can be

solved with better design solutions. However, better material design solutions are not enough to change human perception. Intangible sensations are subjective in

general, they depend on the occupant and his personal experience within the space:

“perception of underground structures may depend on the culture, environment, and experience people have” (Lee, 2017, 2) and “the ways people think, feel, and

behave are closely tied to individuals’ bodily interactions with the physical environment” (Lee, 2017, 6).

Gaston Bachelard with The Poetics of Space (1994) and Juhani Pallasamaa with

The Eyes of the Skin (2012) are pioneer narratives of the ‘architecture of the senses’

–design of experiences rather than spaces–. This thesis report recognises the necessity of changing the way of thinking and seeing the underground (Labbé, 2016), and

suggests reconfiguring underground perceptions by emphasising sensorial experiences: intimacy, solitude, silence, warmth, imagination, excitement, curiosity, and magic.

45

+ FIG.14. Texture V - Geological Model, author’s own, 2018.

47

GOING UNDERGROUND

Psycho-geology of the Underground Underground spaces are inevitable dependent on the geological environment, which by all means that geology will have an intrinsic influence on human experience within these spaces. Psycho-geology has recently arisen as a new discipline to understand the interaction between human perception and geology. The Institute of psycho-geology has given the following definitions about this new subject: 1.

“A branch of geosciences that deals with the interplay between the human mind and geology, not in an analytical,

medical, or academic sense, but in the way that rocks and other geologic phenomena influence humans thoughts and actions”

2. “Study of the laws and specific effects of the geological envi-

ronment, consciously organised or not, on the emotions and behaviour of individuals”

+ FIG.15. Jura no. 10-24, 2016; selection from Dan Holdsworth’s series ‘Continuous Topography’ presented for the exhibition in Basel, Switzerland. Awe-inspiring point cloud representation of the ‘future archaeology’ in the Anthropocene: infinitude of geological time.

48

THE WEIGHT OF STONE

Not only geology influences how human experience subterranean spaces. Hu-

man needs in relation to space in general together with historical culture-based associations to the underground, have deployed both negative and positive perceptions of the subsurface.

Difference and similarity between overground and underground space Overground space and underground space are apparently opposites: whilst the first

is open and without encumbrance deployed, the latter is solid, unseen, and only exists when it is dug out (Labbé, 2016). Above-ground constructions are usually more

natural and spontaneous, while on the contrary, underground installations require deliberated effort and planning. In Tunnelling and Underground Space Technology,

Monique Labbé compares 3D conceptual models to frame this difference: “when

we are trying to build a 3D model of a town, we first draw the volumes and pay no attention to what is happening between these volumes; we think of the town

as a group of buildings, with what remains between their volumes as public space.

Underground, it is the opposite: the volumes are blind, they have to be opened

or sliced to know what is happening, although dug out space is by essence public space” (ibid., 154).

Overground construction is inevitably in contact with the exterior, hence derives

over-confidence from visual and physical benefits of this: it is possible to circulate and have control over the environment. Excluding natural caves, underground

structures seem less natural and are more humanness. They are indeed, restricted to human demands and apprehended as service areas. Both spaces are similar in the sense that “human being is the same when he is above-ground or down below”

(ibid., 154). Despite this, public is more demanding in regard to underground space due to the lack of exterior environment and therefore, high expectancies on the human artifice. Moreover, the underground is all interior space: it only exists from

the time a human being enters it. In contrast, there is almost no preexisting interior space above-ground, unless it is built (Labbé, 2016).

Negative psycho-geological perceptions of the underground environment The idea of being underground conducts several negative associations (Carmo-

dy & Sterling, 1987) even in the solely definition of the term: underground, below

49

GOING UNDERGROUND

ground, subsurface, subterranean. These terminologies themselves connote a clear separation between above-below environments and particularly, mean being under

the ground line. ‘Being under’ any circumstance has intrinsic negative psychological and physiological effects on the human psyche. Furthermore, following the different distinctions between above-below constructions previous mentioned, under-

ground space is constructed by digging out a solid mass. Rosalind Williams wrote in Notes on the Underground, how excavators would confess feeling as intruders when entering into a chamber closed and sealed by many centuries ago. Feeling of

foreignness in relation to the subterranean intensifies negative psycho-geological perceptions of the underground environment.

Considering also Lewis Mumford (2010) aesthetics principles described in his

book Technics and Civilization, the mine is irredeemably ugly, the opposite of beau-

tiful when the principle of beauty is based on organicism (Williams, 2008). Rosalind

Williams continues: “such organic beauty can never be found in the underground

environment which is devoid of life and form” (ibid., 82). A mythic underground is dampness, darkness and formless space.

According to the psychological study carried out by Lee E.H et al. in 2017, there

are four major psychological factors affecting human engagement with these dark

spaces: isolation, lack of perceived sense of control, negative culture-base associations, and lack of perceived sense of security.

First, underground structures are enclosed environments with limited natural

light and exterior views. The lack of daylight and sense of contact with the exterior world creates a feeling of entrapment and isolation. It has been demonstrated that natural light produces positive feelings and connotes warmth (Carmody & Sterling,

1987). Isolation can be perceived from an entirely disassociation with either outdoor climate or human interaction.

Second, the underground is windowless. “Windows provide a direct view for ob-

serving weather conditions” (Carmody & Sterling, 1987, 59) and can be performed to

control the amount of light or ventilation desired in a room. Windowless spaces do not only have lack of perceived sense of control over environmental conditions, but

also provoke uneasiness, claustrophobic reactions and fears related to safety: “even

with virtual window people felt much safer, implying that mere perception of win-

dows can determinate how occupants feel and behave” (Lee et al., 2017, 4). There is

a tendency of feeling that windowless spaces are more prone to structural collapse, 50

THE WEIGHT OF STONE

fire or flooding (Carmody & Sterling, 1987), as well as feeling that evacuation may

be impeded. Another problem derived from windowless environments is the lack of landmarks. Walls and ceilings obstruct navigation and, therefore, result in lower sense of control (Lee et al., 2017).

+ FIG.16. Underground workers in the elevator. Shot from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis film, 1927. Association between working class and subterranean environment.

Third, the underground has been historically associated with negative cultur-

al-based attributions as discussed in this report: death and evil (Lesser, 1987), death and burial (Williams, 2008), cave societies or primitive cultures (Mohirta, 2012) or

living space for impoverished communities (Toth, 1993). These attributions are often negative and convey feelings of awe in the subconscious imagery.

Last, there is a lack of perceived security4 in hidden and hiding spaces (Lee et al.,

2017). Subterranean scenery has been used as hiding places for offenders. Difficulties for way finding in the underground encourage criminal intents (Lee et al., 2017).

51

GOING UNDERGROUND

Other factors influence negative psycho-geological perceptions of the under-

ground environment: risk of radon pollution, high levels of humidity and damp con-

ditions, unhealthy feeling, restrictions of space, physical constraints of the space itself –small interior space, low ceilings, narrow and dark entrance– (Carmody &

Sterling, 1987); association with technical use, lack of greenery and natural features, and lack of stimulation –static conditions and uniformity in lighting and interior design– (Lee et al., 2017).

Positive psycho-geological perceptions of the underground environment Although people perceive underground spaces negatively in general, several studies

have shown that they also have positive reactions to this environment. These studies

have been addressed in regard to underground workplace. Hughey & Tie revealed in 1984 that the majority of surveyed underground workers, felt satisfied about their work environment based on five factors: climate control, unique work environment,

few distractions, safe location, and miscellaneous –low cost, convenience of loca-

tion and similar traits–. Carmody & Sterling in 1987 conducted another study in an underground workplace, which results showed that surveyed workers marked the

uniqueness of their work environment as favourable. Küller & Wetterberg reported in 1996 that subterranean workers did not report their spaces as less pleasant than

above ground ones, contrary to prior studies. Indeed, this study demonstrated that occupants of these spaces had strong affection towards their environment (Vila, 2012).

Despite these contemporary studies, positive affections to underground work

environments are mainly subjective and will change according to the type of activity and personal experience related to these spaces.

Ambivalence in the underground environment Psycho-geological subjectivity in the underground environment is an important issue for designing these spaces and cannot be entirely reflected in scientific studies.

Throughout this report, several ambivalences existing in the underground percep-

tion have been discussed. For example, whilst Mumford found mines so repugnant –sensations of power, deprivation, vacuity, solitude and silence–, his coetaneous Ed-

mund Burke found them so admirable: infinite, magnificent and sublime in nature (Williams, 2008).

52

THE WEIGHT OF STONE

+ FIG.17. The eye of the Pantheon in Rome, 113-125 AD. The eye, or oculus, is the only source of natural light. Furthermore, the thickness of the dome declines with altitude. The Pantheon is, without doubt, an example of infinitude, sublimity and perception of the weight of stone.

53

GOING UNDERGROUND

As discussed, sublimity in external nature played a key role in the emergence of

modern geology during the nineteenth century. Perceptions of immerse scale –time

and space– arouse the ideal of constructing an awe-inspiring space (Williams, 2008).

Underground spaces can redirect negative cultured-based associations from past experiences and empower the idea of sublimity in awe-inspiring spaces.

The idea of enclosed structures has not always been a negative quality in archi-

tecture. Romans builders constructed indestructible interior spaces to represent the authority of civilisations and its independence from nature (Williams, 2008). Some of

these spaces were self-contained structures, not necessary underground, but based

on the same principle of a windowless environment. These close systems were awe-inspiring spaces that demand isolation. The Pantheon in Rome built in 113-125 AD is a prime example of this inspiring sense of enclosure and windowless (fig.15).

Architecture and the senses in the underground environment Several literatures have portrayed the sensory overload experienced in underground spaces. In Entering the Stone, Barbara Hurd provides an awe-inducing tour through the natural history and spiritual territory of caves. She explores feelings through

the dark on caves and their peculiar power over human imagination. Throughout her narratives, she describes how entering the stone enables deluge of sensations

and particularly, how she founds distraction through the dark. Inside the caves, in a

mystic silent environment, she encounters her memories and intimate secrets in ret-

rospect: “It’s the sequence I want to keep in mind, the undulating wave of something

rising out of nothing, dissolving again, the practice of paying attention to the lull.

The viscera of absence call us to grope where we can’t see, where the normal con-

straints, the habits, identities, and the definitions by which we live might lift, disperse

momentarily, leave us in enormous space. Here the imagination twist and searches, fumbles, gets ready to say what we can’t quite see” (ibid., 170).

In a different conjecture, Gaston Bachelard explores in The Poetics of Space, the

idea of intimate immensity. Bachelard argues that our perception of ‘immensity’ and

the ‘consciousness of enlargement’ are mere results of an ‘inner immensity’ rather than an external condition of the space. This means that, our experiences of the

space itself, are marked with psychological impressions of it: “Immensity is within

ourselves. It is attached to a sort of expansion of being that life curbs and caution

54

THE WEIGHT OF STONE

arrests, but which starts again when we are alone. As soon as we become motion-

less, we are elsewhere; we are dreaming in a world that is immense” (Bachelard, 1994, 184). Bachelard’s intimate immensity is what Barbara Hurt experienced when exploring the caves.

This intimate immensity can also be found in any dark interior space above-

ground. The difference between intimate spaces above and below, is the perception of the weight of stone. The experience of weight and mass of stone has been well portrayed in Juhani Pallasamaa’s book The Eyes of the Skin. Pallasamaa writes about

the tension between personal experiences and architecture, the interaction between human body and space. He argues, how pleasure and protection are enabled when

discovering the resonance of the body in space. The action of experiencing a struc-

ture occurs when unconsciously the tensions in human muscular system mimic its configuration and perceive the sense of gravity. The weight of stone and darkness

present in underground space, invites our “unconscious peripheral vision and tactile

fantasy” (Pallasamaa, 1994, 50) for sublime emotional experiences.

These narratives are bold examples of how architectural design can return im-

ages of interiority, intimacy and belonging to the underground. Human can have a strong spatial experience completely without light.

Underground Design Today, it is possible to change our way of thinking and seeing the underground.

There are technical solutions to almost every physiological problem that under-

ground space offers (Labbé, 2016). Quality air, light, acoustic, visuals and even greenery can be provided in the underground: “making the underground a pleasant

space is definitely an option” (ibid., 154). However, “is a good space design sufficient

to make the underground desirable and visited?” (ibid., 155). How can designers

reconfigure the perception of the underground and enhance human experience within subterranean spaces?

Successful strategies and subsequent selection of several design projects that

have been taken to reconfigure the perception of underground space are listed below:

55

GOING UNDERGROUND

—— Insertion of natural light technology and vegetation (Carmody & Sterling, 1987) The Lowline project in Manhattan (2012), formerly known as the Delancey Under-

ground, designed by James Ramsey of Raad Studio is a proposal for the world’s first

underground park. The design project proposed solar technology for the creation of a ‘’remote skylight’’ in the underground. This artificial insertion of natural light in the Lowline enables greenery to grow and creates multiple experiences throughout.

+ FIG.18. Sunlight collector prototype from the Lowline Lab, 2012.

56

THE WEIGHT OF STONE

+ FIG.19. Inside the cloud, the ‘whimsical invasion’, 2016.

—— Provoke stimulation through interior design elements: avoid static conditions and uniformity (Carmody & Sterling, 1987) The ‘whimsical invasion’ (2016) by Hyuntek Yoon (nooyoon) and Youngeun Kwun

(AWW) installation at Dupon underground station in Washington D.C, transforms

the space into a surreal, invasive environment and breaks the uniformity of the passageway. Visitors are guided by a piece’s pliable surface made by nylon netting,

steel frames and more than 650,000 small plastic balls. This artifice creates a dialog between the user and space. This project is also a good example of multiple circula-

tions: occupants can chose their path and walk inside-outside the cloud. “Architects

should look not to create a strict control or restriction of movement in underground space” (Mohirta, 2012).

57

GOING UNDERGROUND

—— Design of intermediary spaces and landmarks (Lee et al., 2017) Several examples can be found for this category. In Italy, Naples city has twisted

underground experience in the metro system: interactive art installations are located within some stations, creating gentle transitory spaces. In Sweden, Stockholm fol-

lowed the same trend with Solna Centrum metro station. Solna Centrum is another example of multi-experience underground. These imaginative environments return the cultural dimension to the subsurface.

+ FIG.20. Solna Centrum metro station, Stockholm.

58

THE WEIGHT OF STONE

+ FIG.21. Bell-lloc Winery entrance by RCR Architects, 2007.

—— Avoid entering through the dark or enclosed areas: design an entrance that is easily recognizable from the exterior (Carmody & Sterling, 1987) The way the user enters into the underground is one of the most dominant fac-

tors in the underground perception. Entering vertically with a lift, produces a sense of disorientation and foreignness. In contrast, entering with an artificial slope down-

wards which gradually conducts the visitor into the underworld, produces curiosity and recognition. Bell-lloc Winery from RCR Architects (2007) in Spain, emphasise a downward slope along the project which function as the veritable storyteller of the

place. The visitor gradually enters in the underground without losing sense of place, view or orientation.

59

GOING UNDERGROUND

+ FIG.22. Salt cascade in Zipaquirรก cathedral, Colombia.

60

THE WEIGHT OF STONE

—— Enable sublime experiences of artificial infinity.

“Changes in illumination technology had an important role in creating this sense

of enclosure” (Williams, 2008, 110). Bund Sightseeing Tunnel underwater (2000) in Shanghai uses high technologies to provide passengers with background music,

images, patterns, history, culture, science, technology and natural scenery while crossing the tunnel. This multi-experience tunnel is the world’s first passage to use technology for public visual and audio enjoyment. The Salt Cathedral of Zipaquirá,

Colombia, is another example of an immersive sublime experience in the underground. This cathedral converted the tunnels of an old salt mine in a stunning spec-

tacle of artificial light. Both projects prove the experience of Bachelard’s intimate immensity and Pallasamaa’s body resonance in space.

—— Create awareness of the superior environment from the underground: break social barriers between above-below ground (Carmody & Sterling, 1987), (Lee et al., 2017) Throughout this report it has been discussed how the underground connotes

negative cultural-based associations and social distinction between above-below communities. Whether the ground is the virtual separation between these two envi-

ronments, design projects should incorporate strategies to articulate this limit. The ground has an intrinsic impact on the physical and metaphorical occupation of subterranean spaces.

Surface is an experimental film directed by Varathit Uthaisri (2000) that explores

the emotional journey from an underground urban perspective: a new visual language of an unconventional perspective from below. This film transforms the con-

ventional glance of observing urban life from above, to be experienced from the underground using a transparent ground.

61

GOING UNDERGROUND

+ FIG.23. Shots from ‘Surface’; short film directed by TU+// Varathit Uthaisri, 2000.

62

THE WEIGHT OF STONE

“A film from underneath”

63

+ Conclusion Change of Paradigm As discussed, urban underground space is renewing its interest in modern cities.

With the staggering increase of population living in urban areas –today, more than

the 70% of the world population– and general lack of vacant land, recent discussions about growing either upwards or downwards are emerging. In addition to this, it

has been demonstrated how underground space contributes to urban sustainability

and resilience. There is a vast underground network in almost every city: hidden

infrastructures for amenities and services, which are the veritable motors of urban life. However, there is another underground network, which in the majority of the

cases, is unknown, forgotten or devaluated. This latter network is purely constituted by unused infrastructure: ancient mines, quarries, tunnels, shelters, catacombs,

shafts, etc. Devaluating this infrastructure is non-resilient: it is absolutely essential to sustain these obsolete structures since they can provoke surface collapse and

other disasters. Today, not using this infrastructure is also unsustainable: if the cost of maintaining these obsolete structures is high, why not reuse them?

In addition, it is important to highlight that underground space is irreversible.

Surface constructions can be demolished and rebuilt over and over again. In

contrast, the void created by an underground construction will remain perpetually altered: prior geology cannot be recovered. For this reason, better planning and

management of urban underground space should be conducted: allow multiple functions and flexible configurations over time.

But, will planning be enough to recover underground structures potential in

modern cities? The answer is no. This thesis report has been exploring throughout

how human experience underground spaces and what are the factors that influence public engagement with it. The conclusion obtained from this research, is that cultured-based associations in regard to the underground have an unconscious

impact on the collective perception and imagination. Even some contemporary

underground spaces with excellent technical solutions are yet incomparable to any

above-ground construction. The reason of this is that the underground continues being associated with sorrow and death (Williams, 2008) and living space for 64

impoverished communities (Toth, 1993). The idea of being ‘under’ any circumstance, together with the weight of stone perceived from being below the ground, brings

psychological and physiological effects on humans. How can designers reconfigure public perception within subterranean spaces?

Designers should first ‘unlock’ the underground in human consciousness (Labbé,

2016). In doing so, more research on performing underground experiences should be done rather than responding to mere physical constraints of underground

space. Brining some narratives to the underground such as the ones explored in

this report –Hurt, Bachelard, and Pallasamaa– related to the architecture and the

senses, could be a starting point to return intimate immensity, emotional sublimity and enchantment to underground iconography. However, subconscious imagery is

still not enough to change human perception of the real subsurface. What else is missing?

Nature is missing in the underground. The term ‘underground’ connotes a direct

association with man-made structures, with technological environments (Williams, 2008). Why natural features such as caves, are exempt of the majority of the

discussions above? What do these natural features have that man-made structures do not? What is the real essence of the underground as an environment? “When

underground space is created, why would ‘nature’ be excluded from it? Air flows there, water flows there and, if there is light, plants grow there. The underground is not fated to be a buried space” (Labbé, 2016, 154).

To conclude, this thesis report suggests embracing a new paradigm for the

underground: “neither as above nor so below”. Further research could be focused on dismantling what it is the real uniqueness of the subterranean environment

rather than continue comparing above-below space. For me, the underground is

unique because it is a solid three dimensional container full of contents from past, present and future forms of human inhabitation.

65

+ FIG.24. Geological time, author’s own, 2018.

68

+ Notes 1. Undergrounding is defined as the replacement of overhead

cables providing electrical power or telecommunications with

underground cables. This change was driven not only for aesthetic purposes, but also for making

power lines less susceptible to

outages during extreme weather conditions.

2. ”Until the nineteenth century,

the poor were not considered

a cohesive group –an “interest” (in England) or an ‘estate’ (in

France)” (Williams, 2008, 151). The second industrial revolution, or

also considered the technological revolution, did not create a

distinction between rich and

poor but it recast the term ‘’lower class’’ to the new term “working

3. Paolo Soleri introduced the term, ‘arcology’ in 1969: the idea of

preserving the natural skin of the

earth against rampant population growth and consumption. Soleri’s arcologies (term derived from architecture and ecology) are

three-dimensional cities, self-

contained, highly efficient and miniaturised.

4. Security should be differentiated

from safety. Security refers to risks

or dangers stemming from human behaviour (terrorist attacks,

crimes, etc). Safety is more related to threats and risk stemming

from the physical environment (accidents, health risks, natural catastrophes, etc). (Lee et al., 2017)

class” which emerged in 1817. The industrial working class, however, took shape in the 1840s for the first time in history.

69

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72

+ List of figures

FIG.1. Author’s own, 2018: Texture I - Geological Model.

FIG.2. Author’s own, 2018: Shifting Ground - Design Project.

FIG.3. Author’s own, 2018: Texture II - Geological Model.

FIG.4. Author’s own, 2018: Texture III - Geological Model.

FIG.5. Extract of Helsinki Underground Master Plan, 2010. [online] Available at:

https://www.hel.fi/helsinki/en/housing/planning/current/underground-masterplan (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.6. Pionen data centre, 2008. [online] Available at: https://www.bahnhof.net/ page/datacenter-pionen (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.7. SMART tunnel Kuala Lumpur, 2007. [online] Available at: https://www.wfib.de/en/projects/tunnelling/mechanised-tunnelling/malaysia/projekte/smarttunnel (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.8. Author’s own, 2018: Texture IV - Geological Model.

FIG.9. Brunel’s Thames Tunnel, 1825-1843. [online] Available at: http://www. crossrail.co.uk/construction/tunnelling/railway-tunnels/thames-tunnelplumstead-to-north-woolwich (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.10. Bridge over Chaos, 1824-1826. John Milton’s Paradise Lost engravings. [online] Available: https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/explore/collection/work/25216/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.11. The Gothic Arch, 1761; selection from Giovanni Battista Piranesi’s

imaginary prisons. [online] Available at: http://artmuseum.princeton.edu/ collections/objects/2977 (accessed July 13 2018)

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FIG.12. Illustrations by Edouard Riou in Jules Verne’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth, 1864. [online] Available at: http://jv.gilead.org.il/rpaul/Voyage%20au%20 centre%20de%20la%20terre/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.13. Arcosanti - arcology, conceptual drawing by Paolo Soleri, 1969. [online] Available at: https://archilibs.org/arcosanti-by-paolo-soleri/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.14. Author’s own, 2018: Texture V - Geological Model.

FIG.15. Jura no.10-24, 2016; selection from Dan Holdsworth’s series ‘Continuous Topography’. [online] Available at: http://www.danholdsworth.com/works/ continuoustopography/18/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.16. Underground workers in the elevator. Shot from Fritz Lang’s

Metropolis film, 1927. [online] Available at: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/ pin/368521181989264735/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.17. The eye of the Pantheon in Rome, 113-125 AD. [online] Available at:

https://lyteformdesign.wordpress.com/2010/10/09/pantheonrome/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.18. Sunlight collector prototype from the Lowline Lab, 2012. [online]

Available at: http://www.cameronrneilson.com/commercial-work/installations/ the-lowline-new-york-city/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.19. Inside the cloud, the ‘whimsical invasion’, 2016. [online] Available at: https://www.designboom.com/architecture/nooyoon-whimsical-invasiondupont-underground-04-13-2016/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.20. Solna Centrum metro station, Stockholm. [online] Available at: https:// www.flickr.com/photos/dyorex/16839004994 (accessed July 13 2018)

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FIG.21. Bell-lloc Winery entrance by RCR Architects, 2007. [online] Available at: https://www.architectural-review.com/today/bell-lloc-winery-in-palams-spainby-rcr-architectes/5218250.article (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.22. Salt cascade in Zipaquirá cathedral, Colombia. [online] Available at:

http://thestylishtrotter.com/10-things-not-miss-bogota/ (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.23. Shots from ‘Surface’; short film directed by TU+// Varathit Uthaisri, 2000. [online] Available at: https://vimeo.com/4936492 (accessed July 13 2018)

FIG.24. Author’s own, 2018: Geological Time - Design Project.

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