Erickson Díaz-Cortés Queer Space: An Inquiry Into Spatial Queerness as a Means to Critique Architecture Master of Architecture ‘21 University of South Florida
Acknowledgements: Thank you to my parents and my sister for their endless love and support throughout everything I strive to accomplish. I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for you three. Thank you to my partner Gabe Cortese, who constantly inspires me to be a better student, artist, and person. I wouldn’t have the proper words for this project had it not been for our constant conversations about what it means for something to be queer. Thank you to my very first architecture professor, Kourtney Baldwin, for instilling your invaluable lessons in design since day one. I will never forget you telling me on the first day of class, “Learn to become comfortable with the uncomfortable.” I am slowly getting there. Thank you to the rest of the wonderful faculty at UCF: Professor Watters, Setzer, and Szutenbach. It might be a small program, but you have given us all of the right tools and have propelled all of us into regions of the world we didn’t know we could go. Thank you to Professor MacLeod and Professor Gundersen for welcoming me with open arms into USF. From having you both as my first professors at USF, to later on being part of my Master’s Project presentation, it has truly been a full-circle moment. Thank you Professor Sanders for your wonderful Florida Landscape class, which brought me much solace during the Summer of 2020, a time when the world was at a pause. Thank you for later being part of my Master’s Project Committee as well. Thank you to Mark Weston; though we met just about a year and a half ago, I knew I wanted you to be my Thesis Chair because I was able to immediately let my guard down and talk to you about real things. Your guidance has been crucial throughout this whole process, and I am very proud of the end result. To my mentors, friends, and family: thank you all for letting me be queer me.
Erickson Díaz-Cortés Queer Space: An Inquiry Into Spatial Queerness as a Means to Critique Architecture Master of Architecture ‘21 University of South Florida Master’s Project Chair: Mark Weston Master’s Project Committee: Robert MacLeod & Nancy Sanders
In an age where Identity Politics are constantly reminding us to reconsider our social lives, educational structures, and politics, I knew I needed to consider my own identity and put myself and the way I personally experience architecture at the forefront of my investigation. I have always felt like there is a disconnect in the discourse between queer identity and architecture. As a result, this query looks at architecture through a non-normative, queer lens. Queer: “differing in some way from what is usual or normal”. (Merriam-Webster Queer) In today’s context, it is also a term used to self identify as something other than heterosexual and/or cisgender. It has become a word that queer people have been able to reclaim and take back the power of, as it used to be used as a Slur. Early on in my investigation, I defined Queer Space as “A space that is defined by a set of relationships between queer people, queer aesthetics, and queer intent/usage.” “From the Closet to the Disco” is about the process of Coming Out and figuring out how to navigate the “new world” Queer Individuals step into when they do come out. They begin to navigate the world differently, becoming hyper aware of how they are taking up space in a room. While I half-jokingly say I know when I am the only Gay person in a room; the reality is that I am extremely cognizant of when that is the case. This drawing is about how queer people have to figure out how to spatially and metaphorically insert themselves in a straight space and navigate environments post-coming out.
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, “From the Closet to the Disco”, Digital Collage, 2021
As a way of setting a basis for this project, I knew I needed to read into arguably the most important Queer Space in Contemporary Queer History as a way of investigating a space where there is a relationship between queer people, queer aesthetics, and queer intent. I began reading about New York City’s Stonewall Inn, which was formerly a gay bar and is now a Historic Queer Monument in New York City. This is where the 1969 Stonewall Riots occurred, which launched the beginning of the Gay Rights Movement. The Riots began on the early morning hours of June 28, 1969. This night, NYC police raided the gay bar, violently hauling bar patrons and occupants out of the establishment and onto the street, which ultimately resulted in a six day protest against police. In this instance, there is a clear shift from queer occupancy within a queer establishment, to then queerness asserting itself and spilling out onto the urban environment. (Pavka What Do We Mean By Queer Space?) This is when I noticed that Queerness and Queer Space in a certain scenario can take on many forms, and is largely dependent on its queer demographic, the specific environment, and intent/usage. Shortly after reading about Stonewall Inn, I felt the need to broaden my scope and investigate precedents that aren’t explicitly LGBTQ+ spaces, but have elements that we can begin to categorize as being Queer. I started using art and architectural history as a lens to look at historically significant spaces that weren’t considered “queer”, but in retrospect, I am classifying them as such. It was because of this thought that I began investigating the idea that: Queer space isn’t queerness itself but rather how queerness resolves itself through architectural design in general.
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, “Pride Was a Riot”, Digital Collage, 2020
Expressions of Gender can be found throughout architectural history. According to Alan Martinez in his article titled “Argument for the Possibility of Intentional Queer Space”, he states, “Gender has always been explicitly or implicitly a subject and object in architecture, whether in terms of function, realms and modes of habitation, or whether in terms of the perceived or agreed upon masculinity or femininity of a particular formation or inflection of style. Architecture may also be viewed from the point of view of gender: the sense of the masculine or feminine is obvious, but also a sense of the queer, or other more complicated communications of gender.” (Alan Martinez Argument for the Possibility of Intentional Queer Space) The Doric order in a column is traditionally considered to be the more “masculine” order, whereas the Ionic is thought of as “feminine”. I began thinking of the Corinthian Column and the Caryatid as being Gender Ambiguous and Queer. The Corinthian column is decadent, flashy, soft in its curves but strong in its craftsmanship. The Caryatid supports its entablature while also taking on the form of a sculpture. They both express the traditional roles of masculine and feminine objects and don’t exactly fit into a strict binary.
Gender as Architecture
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, “Gender as Architecture”, Digital Collage, 2020
Flaming Homosexual
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, “Flaming Homosexual”, Digital Collage, 2020 Based off of Antoni Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, this collage is Queer as a result of its extreme decoration and exuberance. Gaudi’s architecture is sometimes reffered to as Flamboyant Architecture. The term “Flamboyant” is sometimes used as a slur to describe an overly-expressive queer person. Flamboyant architecture is also flame-like, which harkens to the idea of a “Flaming Homosexual”. By appropriating what is meant to be a slur, I have created a theatrical dichotomy between the setting of a fire, Gaudi’s flamboyant design in the background and the vintage gay magazine cutout used in the foreground.
Queer Rococo
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, “Queer Rococo”, Digital Collage, 2020 If queer space can be qualified by decoration and exuberance, then the same can be said about the Rococo, which is notorious for its heavy, sometimes-gaudy decoration. During this period, utilitarian objects such as clocks, mirrors, and candlesticks were “queer-ified” and turned into stylish works of art. Architectural elements became sensual in their elaborate curves and scrolls, which then lend themselves to themes of frivolity and human sexuality. The Rococo period displays a clear shift away from religion and into human sexuality and desire; and the architecture reflects that as well.
Decoration is Queer
Lari Pittman, “Untitled #8 (The Dining Room)”, cel-vinyl, acrylic and alkyd on gessoed canvas over wood, UCLA Hammer Museum, 2005
My research on Rococo led me to thinking about the Interiority of Spaces where Interior Design is a queer expression. In Lari Pittman’s interview for the Modern Art Notes Podcast he half-jokingly says, “Historically, queer people have always found their domiciles to be the safest places. That’s why theres that old homophobic adage, “Why do homosexuals decorate so much?” Well, I have an answer for that. You decorate the space you feel the most comfortable with and in, and that you can control the most. That’s why so many decorators are homosexuals”. (Tyler Green The Modern Art Notes Podcast/ Lari Pittman) Lari Pittman’s paintings of Interior Scenes indicate, for him, the clear dinstinction between residential space and public, urban space, in terms of aesthetics and safety. He claims public space is intrinsically male and heterosexual, whereas residential space, which is the basis that he makes his paintings about and through, is a more polymorphous space that allows for more polymorphous identity. (Kelly Shindler Lari Pittman: A Decorated Chronology) Pittman’s depictions of Queer Interiority led me to thinking of more physical, built precedents in architecture.
Philip Johnson’s Glass House as Queer Space
Philip Johnson, “Glass House”, New Canaan, Connecticut, 1949 The infamous “Glass House” by Philip Johnson is a 56 by 32 foot wide glass-enclosed space that served as a queer haven for Johnson and his lifelong partner David Whitney. Arguably, the materiality of the home was their way of hiding in plain sight. According to Mark Stern in his article titled, “The Glass House as Gay Space”, he states, “The Glass House’s glass walls represent for Johnson a parodic paradox of closeted homosexual life in the mid-twentieth century: anyone can see into the central space, into the living room which represents so many centuries of traditional family living, yet the goings-on inside the house are an utter inversion of the sexual-societal norm. So quietly and cleverly does it incorporate the question of sexual identity into its design.” (Stern The Glass House as Gay Space: Exploring the Intersection of Homosexuality and Architecture)
Camp Space is Queer Space
From left: Andy Warhol, David Whitney, Philip Johnson, Dr. John Dalton, and Robert A. M. Stern in the Glass House in 1964 Queer exhibitionism subtly comes into play in this space. It is a space where gay men essentially performed on a metaphorical stage, in a way, displaying their queerness to the outside world. We can think of this exhibitionism and the irony in the home’s sheerness as being “Camp”. The term “Camp” has risen in notoriety because it was the theme of the MET Gala in 2019. In terms of academia it rose to prominence after Susan Sontag’s 1964 essay “Notes on Camp” where she defines the term as, “A sensibility that revels in artifice, stylization, theatricalization, irony, playfulness, and exaggeration rather than content.” (Sontag Notes on “Camp”) Philip Johnson’s desire to build a private, safe-space for himself and David Whitney, while still making the interior of the house completely visible from the outside is complete satire and camp as architecture.
The Brick House as the Queer Closet
Philip Johnson, “Brick House”, New Canaan, Connecticut, 1949 It is little known that there is another one of Johnson’s projects across from the Glass House. This project, however, is physically and ideologically polar opposite. It is pointedly named the “Brick House”, which serves as the guest house for the Glass House. It is almost completely solid, private, and non-exhibitionist. It became apparent to me that The Brick House, metaphorically speaking, takes on the form of the Queer Closet. Where the Glass House proudly displays itself, the Brick House is completely introspective and secretive. Because the Glass and the Brick House became archetypes of “Safe-Spaces” in my research, I started to question if there was a more relevant, every-day “Safe-Space” that we encounter. That resulted in the investigation of the Digital Queer Space.
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, “The Irony of Safe Spaces”, Digital Collage, 2020
Queer Space as Digital Space The potentiality for Queer Space to take on a Digital Life becomes even more prevalent every single day. Especially now, during the Coronavirus pandemic, many Queer Establishments are closing down. Whether or not one frequents these Queer bars, clubs, and LGBTQ+ Centers, these spaces are the few visible Queer Beacons in their Urban Environment. For some people, these are the only spaces they can fully let their guard down and be themselves. As a result of these spaces closing down, some people can only find “Queer Comfort” and a Queer Community on an Online platform.
I started investigating the way queer people meet each other online not just through Instagram or Twitter, but more specifically-Queer apps such as Grindr. Similar to Tinder, Grindr is a geolocating app that tells users how far away they are from other app Users. Unlike Tinder, however, Grindr tells users if they are 10 miles away, or just 100 feet away from other users. Nowadays, it is mostly used as a hookup app for gay men. When used socially, however, it can be a great tool to meet and befriend other queer folk in one’s close vicinity, especially if one is new to a city and wants to make new friends, find recommendations or advice about a city and its people, among other things. According to Andrew Shield’s article titled, ”Gay Immigrants and Grindr”, he states, “These geo-locative platforms challenge the idea that a “gay space” needs to be a physical space distinct from a straight space, since “the grids of the Grindr interface can be overlaid atop any space”. (Andrew DJ Shield Gay Immigrants and Grindr: Revitalizing Queer Urban Spaces?) I thought this was a revelatory observation. In a way, the Grindr interface becomes a virtual blanket or grid. It can impose itself anywhere and can occupy and perform atop any straight space, essentially Queerifying it. Where the Glass House “hides in plain sight” and blends in with its neighborhood and urban fabric, Grindr does so as well, imposing itself onto any landscape and exists in its own fabric and digital layer.
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, “The Irony of Safe Spaces”, Digital Collage, 2020
Queer as in...
Form
Closet
Decoration
Camp
Usage
Throughout my research, it became apparent that Queer Space is always in flux and presenting itself a different way. Every queer space is a different type of queer space. As a result, I created a categorical list that serves as a queer database.
The Center, NYC
Stonewall Inn, NYC
The Glass House, Philip Johnson, New Canaan, CT
The Brick House, Philip Johnson, New Canaan, CT
Sagrada Familia, Antoni Gaudi, Barcelona, Spain
Erechtheion Temple on Athenian Acropolis, Greece
Treasury of Atreus, Mycenae, Greece
Miami Museum Garage, WORKac
Notre-Dame du Haut, Le Corbusier, Ronchamp, France
Geisel Library, William Pereira, San Diego, CA
Out of the Closet
Parliament House, Orlando, FL
M2, Kengo Kuma, Japan
Bruce Goff, Private Residence
Hall of Mirrors, Louis Le Vau Versailles, France
Casa Mila, Antoni Gaudi, Barcelona, Spain
Centre Pompidou, Paris, France
Cinderella Castle, Orlando, FL
Giza Necropolis, Egypt
Nagakin Capsule Tower, Kisho Kurokawa, Japan
Queer as in Form
Queer as in Closet
As a way of responding to the former categories, I made these watercolor pencil drawings that portray what each Queer Category would potentially look like. This was a way of architecturalizing these somewhat abstract ideas. Greek Disco, for example, uses the original plan of a Greek Stage from Minoan Civilizations as a setting. “Stages” have transformed throughout centuries and trickled into contemporary society. Now, these stages are widely known as spaces where Queer people shine in Theatre, Pageants, and Clubs. Erickson Díaz-Cortés, Greek Disco, watercolor pencil on paper, 4.5”x6”, 2020
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, The Treasury, watercolor pencil on paper, 4.5”x6”, 2020
E w 2
Queer as in Camp
Queer as in Decoration
Queer as in Usage
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, Boullée’s Stage, watercolor pencil on paper, 4.5”x6”, 2020
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, Queer Rococo, watercolor pencil on paper, 4.5”x6”, 2020
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, Queer Futurity, watercolor pencil on paper, 4.5”x6”, 2020
Parliament House in Orlando as a Case Study After considering my own nearby environments as a way of investigating Queer Spaces in Architecture, I began using Orlando’s Parliament House as a case study. Parliament House was Orlando’s oldest LGBTQ+ club and hotel, open since 1975. Unfortunately, it was forced to close down and was bulldozed in 2020 due to bankruptcy and mismanagement. Through this collage, I visually dissected the different elements that made Parliament House unique, such as the multiple interior and exterior club spaces, the themed Drag Shows, the pool, the restaurants, the hotel and even a giant neon sign. I felt this was a really unique space because usually, Queer establishments only consist of a small bar or restaurant and do not take up much of the Urban Grid. Parliament House, however, was essentially a massive Queer Compound with Queer mechanisms within.
Erickson Díaz-Cortés, “Vintage Parliament House”, Digital Collage, 2021
“Parliament House (Q Hotel
Drag Stage & Pool
Queer Kit of Parts)” Disco
Neon Sign
This aerial perspective drawing of Parliament House both memorializes the space and also visually lays out where all of its Queer Components are. Although Parliament’s architecture is quite banal and pedestrian, the individual programs inside are not. They are, what I am calling: Vessels for Queer Opportunity.
Vessels for Quee
Queer Kit of Parts #1
Transition to Drag Stage
Gay Slide
Queer Kit of Parts #2
Queer Appropriation
Pool, Stage, Dressing Room
er Opportunity
Liminal Spage Between Stage & Dressing Room
Corinthian Girls Watching
Disco Ball on Ground
Stage on Stage on Stage
Dressing Room
Treasury of Atreus as a Club
“The Drag Stage (A Vessel for Performance)”
Architecturally, a stage itself is merely a platform that is raised up in order to create a sense of spatial hierarchy and authority. In a Queer Space, however, Stages are places for lip synchs, comedy shows, pageants, and runway shows. Before arriving to the stage, the Drag Performer has to get into character and become their Drag Persona. The looped promenade just behind the stage becomes a transient space where a Drag Performer has to transform themselves through the process of changing their hair, makeup, clothing, and even their attitude before going out onto the stage and in the spotlight.
“The Pool (A Vessel for Voyeurism)”
No one actually goes to swim at the Parliament House Pool. It is a space that houses queer people, mostly gay men. It allows them to see others and be seen. This pool has long been a means or a vessel for cruising and bodily freedom. Pools are unique in that they subvert the way we move our bodies, control how we breathe, and dictate what we wear (or lack thereof). It is a queer thing in its own right.
“The Disco (A Vessel for Anonymity)”
Discos are highly layered both spatially and phenomenologically. There is an amalgamation of lighting, music, equipment, slippery floors, and dancing occupants. All of these elements create an artificial mood that is seductive and mysterious. These are usually dark spaces that are transformed by colorful, pulsating lighting. This pulsating blurs occupants’ faces and genders and in that moment, the Disco becomes a space that we occupy anonymously. Architecturally, discos aren’t extra-ordinary but their atmosphere makes people do what they do. If one turned off the disco lights, got rid of the fog, stopped the music, and turned on the main lights- the sensual aura would disappear and everyone would become awkward with embarrassment and realize that they are in a simple box dancing.
Here, the Disco Balls are altered from their typical orientations, the gels are disheveled, and we are made to question the simple nature of the White Cube and the Disco Balls inside. In this instance: Queer Space is not physical but rather a Phenomenon or a Sensation.
“The Drag Stage (A Vessel for Performance)” The digital pedestals I used to exhibit my work needed as much consideration as the models, and the space itself needed to be transformed into a Queer Space, purposefully rejecting the idea of a white cube gallery. In a way, this became an exercise in Exhibition Design and made me question how I should be presenting this information and these artifacts. The spaces are transformed into shades of yellow, which is the symbolic color for nonbinary individuals. The grid pattern I first used in the physical models and now on the walls and floor harken to the urban grid that we occupy differently than others as Queer Folk.
“The Pool (A Vessel for Voyeurism)”
“The Disco (A Vessel for Anonymity)”
Vessel
“Parliament House (A Queer Compound)” Similar to the term “Queer”, the term “fruit” or “fruity” has a homophobic connotation attached to it when used negatively to describe a flamboyant person. Here, I have reappropriated that term in a pointed, playful manner, and used these Fruits as living characters in my miseen-scene. By doing this, I am also rethinking what an architectural prop even needs to look like. This arrangement of disparate elements resynthesizes Parliament House into a queer allegory. Now that Parliament House has been demolished, what happens to the memory of these spaces? Have they become obsolete? Is it possible to re-imagine and re-create these queer spaces once Parliament House is relocated and rebuilt into its future vessel? In Jose Esteban Muñoz’s “Cruising Utopia” he states, “Queerness is not yet here. Queerness is an ideality. Put another way, we are not yet queer. We may never touch queerness, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality. We have never been queer, yet queerness exists for us as an ideality that can be distilled from the past and used to imagine a future. The future is queerness’ domain.” (Jose Esteban Muñoz Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity) This masters project aims to distill from the past and imagine a more Queer Future.
Lemon Disco
Pool
Vessel
Cloud
Vessel
Major Edges of Hotel Sumo Mandarin
Drag Stage
Baby Orange
Sources “Queer.” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/queer. Accessed 29 Apr. 2021. Pavka, Evan. “What Do We Mean By Queer Space?” Azure Magazine, Azure Publishing, 29 June 2020, www.azuremagazine.com/article/what-do-we-mean-byqueer-space/. Martinez, Alan. “Argument for the Possibility of Intentional Queer Space .” The Friends of 1800, 30 Apr. 2002, www.friendsof1800.org/VIEWPOINT/argument.html. Green, Tyler. “The Modern Art Notes Podcast/ Lari Pittman.” Episode 415, 17 Oct. 2019. Shindler, Kelly. “Lari Pittman: A Decorated Chronology.” Contemporary Art Museum St.Louis, Contemporary Art Museum St.Louis, 24 May 2013, camstl.org/ wp-content/uploads/2018/01/gallery-guide-lari-pittman.pdf. Stern, Mark J. “ The Glass House as Gay Space: Exploring the Intersection of Homosexuality and Architecture.” Inquiries Journal, Inquiries Journal/Student Pulse LLC, 2012, www.inquiriesjournal.com/articles/651/the-glass-house-as-gay-spaceexploring-the-intersection-of -homosexuality-and-architecture. Sontag, Susan. Notes on “Camp”.Partisan Review, 1964. Shield, Andrew. “Gay Immigrants and Grindr: Revitalizing Queer Urban Spaces?” IJURR, 11 Jan. 2019, www.ijurr.org/spotlight-on/disruptive-urban-technologies/ gay-immigrants-and-grindr-revitalizing-queer-urban-spaces/. Muñoz, José Esteban. Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity. NYU Press, 2009. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt9qg4nr. Accessed 29 Apr. 2021.
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