Nummer 8 – Forschung an den Übergängen

Forschung an den Ăœbergängen

Nummer 8

Research at the Transitions

Inhalt

Seite 10

Forschung an den Übergängen Einleitung Martin Wiedmer

Design & Management

Not Your Usual Kind of Design How Design Introduces Organizations to New Ways of Working, Thinking, and Planning Hans Kaspar Hugentobler, Catalina Jossen Cardozo, Sabine Junginger, Bettina Minder, Claudia Ramseier, Dagmar Steffen

Produkt & Textil

Seite 16

Roots and Rivers Textile Thinking for a Sustainable Future Faith Kane

Seite 20

Seite 24

Textilization of Light Astrid Mody Kunst, Design & Öffentlichkeit

Seite 30

Tagung als Methode Zur partizipativen Forschungspraxis im Projekt «Off OffOff Of? Schweizer Kulturpolitik und Selbstorganisation in der Kunst seit 1980» Gabriel Flückiger, Andrea Glauser, Rachel Mader, Sarah Merten, Pablo Müller, Vera Leisibach, Peter Spillmann Materialität@hslu

Seite 38

Bildstrecke Olivia Sasse (Fotos), Dieter Geissbühler und Isabel Rosa Müggler Zumstein (Texte)

Seite 63

Design in the Organization Summary of Initial Findings and Research Outlook Sabine Junginger

Innovative Wege mit Textilien zu arbeiten Christiane Luible

Seite 58

Visual Narrative

Seite 68

Medium of the Future, Medium of the Now A Roundtable Discussion on Narration and Immersion in Advanced Cinema Technology and VR Wolfgang Brückle and Fred Truniger in conversation with Neal Hartman, Johan Knattrup Jensen, Florian Krautkrämer, Marco de Mutiis, and Alia Sheikh

Forschung an den Übergängen Einleitung Martin Wiedmer

Die Hochschule Luzern – Design & Kunst schaut auf eine bewegte Geschichte zurück. Beginnend als kantonale Kunstgewerbeschule in der Luzerner Altstadt, zog sie später vor die Tore der mittelal­ terlichen Stadt, in die ehemaligen Räume des Liftherstellers Schindler an der Sentimatt und ex­ pandierte danach ins umliegende Quartier. 2016 verliess ein Teil des Departements Design & Kunst in einer ersten Etappe städtischen Boden und zog nach Norden in die Viscosistadt in Emmenbrücke.

Durch einen Anbau wird 2019 das gesamte Depar­ tement wieder unter einem Dach vereint. Die fort­ währende Suche nach neuen Räumen und Stand­ orten ist in der Geschichte dieser Hochschule eine Konstante – alles schien und scheint in Transfor­ mation begriffen.

Der Gedanke, die Stadt zu verlassen und an den Rand zu ziehen, stiess bei den Studierenden und Mitarbeitenden durchaus auf Skepsis. Längere Reisewege, sowie die Bewegung weg vom Zen­ trum wurden als Verlust angesehen, sind doch ge­ rade die Disziplinen Design, Film und Kunst immer auch Spiegelbilder des alltäglichen Lebens, von Gesellschaft und von städtischer Dichte. Eine an­ dere Sicht ist jedoch genauso legitim, vor allem in Bezug auf die Stadtentwicklung: Neue Orte, dar­ unter öffentliche Räume, profitieren davon, dass

sie genau zwischen Zentren, zwischen Quartieren mit unterschiedlichen Bevölkerungsgruppen und verschiedenen Kulturen entstehen. Die Diversität, aber auch die Brüche, bringen Ungewohntes zu­ sammen und stellen Neuartiges her.

Der Wegzug aus der Stadt Luzern an die Peri­ pherie ist aus diesem Blickwinkel eine Bewegung ins Dazwischen, die nicht nur aus einer Stadtent­ wicklungsperspektive interessant ist, sondern auch Bild für die Aktivitäten der Hochschule sein kann: Veränderungen von Disziplinen und Arbeits­ feldern, die Kombination von Bekanntem und Un­gewohntem, die Fähigkeit das eigene Tun aus unterschiedlichen Perspektiven zu beobachten, sind Merkmale von Innovation – nicht im Sinne von technischen Artefakten sondern als Prozess, der zu neuen Haltungen und Verfahren führt. Die Geschichte der Hochschule ist geprägt von die­ sem konstanten Neu-Kombinieren, ob es nun um die Legitimierung gegenüber Gesellschaft und Politik geht, um den Abgleich zwischen lokalen Ansprüchen und nationalen und internationalen Entwicklungen in Design, Film und Kunst, um die produktive Auseinandersetzung mit den anderen Disziplinen innerhalb der Hochschule Luzern oder um Räume an der Peripherie, die zum neuen Zen­ trum werden.

Research at the Transitions The Lucerne School of Art and Design looks back on a history of movement and change. Having started out as a Cantonal school of applied arts in the old town of Lucerne, it later moved beyond the gates of the medieval city to the former premises of the Schindler elevator company on the Senti­ matt, then expanded into the surrounding city dis­ trict. In 2016 a section of the Art & Design depart­ ment left the city in the first phase of a relocation to Viscosistadt in Emmenbrücke to the north. An extension in 2019 will reunite the entire depart­ ment under one roof. The ongoing search for new premises and locations is a constant in the history of the school; everything always seems to be in a permanent state of change.

The idea of leaving the city and moving out to the periphery was met with considerable skepti­ cism on the part of students and staff at the school.

Longer journey times and the move from the town center were regarded as a loss. After all, the dis­

Sich an Übergängen zu positionieren ist ein steti­ ges Überforderungsprogramm, genauso wie De­ sign, Film und Kunst selbst. Die Forschung in den gestalterischen und künstlerischen Disziplinen lotet solche Brüche und Übergänge in ihren The­ men und Verfahren aus, und auch der internatio­ nale Diskurs zur Erkenntnistheorie von Forschung in den Künsten, im Design und im Film ist davon stark geprägt. Dies mündet in der Diskussion um die sogenannte «practice-based» Forschung, die im Kern bestrebt ist, das gestalterische Experi­ ment und die künstlerische Praxis als erkenntnis­ generierende Verfahren zu inkorporieren.

Das Bild des Überganges ist durchaus auch pro­ blematisch. Grenzen haben eine definitorische Macht, sie beschreiben das Innenliegende präzi­ se, weisen genau zu, was dazu gehört und was ausgeschlossen ist. Design, Kunst und Film, Leh­ re und Forschung an den Übergängen zu positio­ nieren, bedeutet deshalb auch, sicheres Terrain zu verlassen. Die vorliegende Publikation tut ge­ nau das. Sie öffnet ein Feld für einen Streifzug durch eine Momentaufnahme der Forschungstä­ tigkeiten, ohne die Forschung selbst definieren oder abschliessend beschreiben zu wollen. Sie zeigt auf, dass es auch innerhalb der Tätigkeits­ felder des Departements nicht die eine bestimm­

ciplines of design, film, and art should always be a reflection of everyday life, society, and the den­ sity of the city. But the alternative view is equally valid, especially when it comes to urban develop­ ment: new locations, including their public spaces, benefit from being developed in the space between existing centers, between districts with different population groups and cultures. The diversity and bridge-building this entails brings together unfa­ miliar things and encourages innovation.

From this point of view the move from city to periphery is a move into an interstitial space.

Spaces like this are not only interesting from the perspective of urban development; they can also be seen as an analogy for what goes on at the uni­ versity: shifting disciplines and fields of activity, combinations of the known and the unfamiliar, the ability to observe one’s own actions from various perspectives. These are the characteristics of innovation, but innovation in terms of process rather than technical artefacts, innovation that leads to new attitudes and approaches. The his­ tory of the school is marked by these constant reconfigurations, whether that entails social and political legitimation, the reconciliation of local, national, and international developments in design, film, and art, productive engagement with other disciplines at the University of Lucerne, or periph­ eral spaces becoming the new center.

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te Forschung gibt. Vielmehr unterscheiden sich die Forschungsgruppen wesentlich voneinander – in ihren Themen, in ihrer Verortung innerhalb der wissenschaftlichen Communities, in ihren Adres­ saten, Referenzen, Diskursen und in ihrer sprach­ lichen Vielfalt. Um diese Heterogenität zu betonen, erscheint diese Ausgabe mit Beiträgen in zwei Sprachen, entsprechend ihrem spezifischen Ent­ stehungsumfeld.

Die vorliegende Publikation zur Forschung in Luzern zeigt – einer Wunderkammer gleich – die Forschung in Luzern, mit ihren unterschiedlichen Inhalten, Formaten und Methoden. Ansätze der Grundlagenforschung stehen neben angewandter Forschung und Entwicklung. Ein Tagungsbeitrag, der auch Teil eines Konferenzbandes sein könnte, findet man neben der Abschrift eines Gesprächs zwischen Expertinnen und Experten, Beiträge zu abgeschlossenen Projekten neben Einblicken in laufende Forschungsprogramme, und Projekt­ beschreibungen aus einem berufspraktischen Umfeld kontrastieren mit theoriegeleiteten Ansätzen.

Konkreter Anlass für das Erscheinen der Publi­ kation ist das 140-Jahre Jubiläum der Hochschu­ le Luzern – Design & Kunst. 2017 gab es mehrere Sonderausstellungen sowie fünf Tagungen, die

Taking up a position at a crossover will always be challenging, much like the practices of design, film, and art themselves. Research in the creative and design-related disciplines explores these gaps and transitions in its themes and methods; the international discourse on the epistemology of research in design, film, and art is also strongly influenced by them. This feeds into the debates about so-called «practice-based» research, which is ultimately an attempt to incorporate design experimentation and artistic practice as knowl­ edge generating processes.

Yet this analogy of the crossover is by no means unproblematic. Borders have a defining power.

They give precise descriptions of what lies within, exact indications of what is intrinsic and what is excluded. To position design, film, and art, teach­ ing and research, at a transitional point is to aban­ don safe ground. This publication does just that.

Without wanting to provide conclusive definitions or descriptions of research, it opens up a field of vision onto a snapshot of research activities. It shows that there is no single definition of research even within the various departments’ fields of activity. The research groups all differ from one another quite fundamentally – in their themes, in their relative positions within their respective sci­ entific communities, in their audiences, references, and discourses, and in the diversity of the lan­

von den Forschungsgruppen des Departements verantwortet wurden.

Die Forschungsgruppe Produkt und Textil orga­ nisierte eine Tagung im bekannten Format einer wissenschaftlichen Konferenz. Unternehmen und Forschende wurden hier zusammengeführt und es gab eine Diskussion zum Mehrwert von Design in anwendungsorientierten Forschungsprojekten.

Drei Kurzbeiträge dieser Konferenz sind in loser Folge im ersten Kapitel zu finden.

Die Tagung der Forschungsgruppe Kunst, De­ sign & Öffentlichkeit steht dem klassischen Format wissenschaftlichen Wissenstransfers diametral gegenüber. Hier wurden nämlich Forschungsfra­ gen aus einem Grundlagenforschungsprojekt auf partizipative Weise im Rahmen der Tagung pro­ duktiv gemacht. Im Projekt geht es um die kultur­ politische Anerkennung und die öffentliche Wahr­ nehmung selbstorganisierter Kunsträume. Das Format selbst unterlag ebenfalls einer Verände­ rung und wird nun im zweiten Kapitel ebenfalls kritisch mitthematisiert.

Gänzlich anders gestaltet als gebräuchliche Ver­ anstaltungsformate der Forschung war die Tagung der Themenplattform Materialität@HSLU, eine Kooperation zwischen den Departementen Design & Kunst und Architektur & Technik. Hier wurde an

guages they use. To emphasize this heterogeneity, the contributions to this issue appear in one of two languages, depending on their original contexts.

This publication on research in Lucerne, like a Wunderkammer or cabinet of curiosities, presents research in Lucerne in its various contents, formats, and methods. Theoretical research methods stand side by side with applied research and develop­ ment. A presentation that might well have been included in a volume of conference proceedings is here published alongside a transcription of a conversation among experts; reports on com­ pleted projects appear beside current research programs; project descriptions from a professional context are contrasted with theoretical approaches.

The specific occasion for the publication of this issue is the 140th anniversary of the Lucerne School of Art and Design. In 2017 there were sev­ eral special exhibitions and the various depart­ mental research groups put on five separate con­ ferences.

The Products & Textiles research group organ­ ized a convention in the familiar form of an aca­ demic conference. Businesses and researchers were brought together to discuss the surplus value of design in applied research projects. The first section of this publication contains three short papers from this conference.

einem eintägigen Workshop theoretisch und prak­ tisch das Thema Gips in Vergangenheit und Ge­ genwart vermittelt und untersucht, ausserdem wurde mit dem Material experimentiert.

In unterschiedlichsten, besonders auch par­ti­ zipativen Formaten beschäftige sich die For­ schungsgruppe Design & Management mit Design in privaten und öffentlichen Organisationen. Ihr Beitrag zeigt auf, welche Auswirkungen Design als Prozess und Strategie auf die Innovations­ fähigkeit unter anderem in Unternehmen und Ver­ waltung haben.

Die Tagung der Forschungsgruppe Visual Narra­ tive beschäftigte sich mit neuen Formaten, Akteu­ ren und Orten im Bereich audiovisueller Medien.

Zusätzlich zum umfangreichen Tagungsprogramm fand eine Sonderausstellung im Bourbaki-Pano­ rama in Luzern statt. Das dazugehörige Kapitel bildet nicht direkt die Tagung oder Ausstellung ab, sondern besteht aus einem Fachgespräch zu den Möglichkeiten und Herausforderungen des Erzäh­ lens in immersiven Medien.

Im Zentrum dieser Publikationsausgabe stehen ausgewählte Themen aus Design, Film und Kunst, die aktuell in Luzern angegangen werden. Sie wer­ den multiperspektivisch bearbeitet, immer an den Übergängen zwischen der Sicht von Expertinnen

The conference organized by the Art, Design & Public Spheres research group is diametrically opposed to the classic form of academic knowl­ edge transfer. At this conference, responses to research questions from a theoretical research project were generated through participation. This project was about the public perception and cul­ tural and political recognition of self-organized gallery spaces. The format itself was likewise lia­ ble to change and is likewise subjected to critical analysis in Section 2.

The conference organized by the thematic plat­ form Materiality@HSLU, a cooperation between the Art & Design and Engineering & Architecture departments, was entirely different from any usual academic event format. This conference discussed, investigated, and experimented with material in a one-day workshop on the practical and theoretical aspects of the past and present of plaster.

Through a variety of participatory formats the Design & Management research group addressed the topic of design in public and private organiza­ tions. Its contribution demonstrates how design as a process and strategy can impact the capacity for innovation at companies, organizations, and elsewhere.

The conference organized by the Visual Narra­ tives research group dealt with new formats, actors, and sites in the field of audiovisual media.

Besides the extensive conference program there was also a special exhibition at the Bourbaki Panorama in Lucerne. This section of the publica­ tion, rather than documenting the conference or the exhibition, consists of a conversation among experts on the possibilities and challenges of nar­ rating in immersive media.

This publication focuses on a selection of cur­ rent themes from the fields of design, film, and art in Lucerne. The themes are treated from a variety of perspectives, but always at the crossover of expert views from the sciences and professional practice in art and design; at the intersection between theoretical and practical approaches and formats; at the blurring boundary between labo­ ratory, atelier, and film studio, between local relevance and international significance, between description of the world as it is and as it could be.

und Experten aus der gestalterisch-künstleri­ schen Berufspraxis und aus den Wissenschaften, an den Übergangen zwischen theoretischen und praktischen Verfahren und Formaten, an den un­ scharfen Rändern zwischen wissenschaftlichem Labor, Atelier und Filmstudio, zwischen lokaler Relevanz und internationaler Signifikanz, zwi­ schen der Beschreibung der Welt, wie sie ist und wie sie auch noch sein könnte.

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Produkt & Textil

Die Forschungsgruppe Produkt & Textil forscht gemein­ sam mit Industriepartnern an Innovationen für die Schwei­ zer Textilwirtschaft und arbeitet aus der Perspektive von Design und Interdisziplinarität historisches Wissen der Textilindustrie auf. Das Textil ist Fokus und Motivation für diese Forschung in einem breiten Anwendungsfeld, das von Bekleidung über Interieur und Produkt bis zu Architektur und Medizin reicht.

Das Designseminar ist als Wissenstransferveranstaltung fixer Bestandteil im Jahresplan der Forschungsgruppe.

Es bringt Wissenschaft, Textil- und Designpraxis themenorientiert zusammen. Fokus der Veranstaltung im Jahre 2017 war die Suche nach Relevanz. Sind unsere Themen und unser Tun relevant? Relevant für die Design-Praxis, die Industrie und die Scientific Community? Täglich bewegen sich anwendungsorientierte Designforschende in diesem Spannungsfeld.

Die nachfolgenden Beiträge zeigen Perspektiven inter­ nationaler Forschenden zu diesem Thema. Astrid Mody zeigt in ihrer Doktorarbeit, wie sie textile Prinzipien für die Entwicklung und Gestaltung ihrer Lichtinstallation nutzt, die Interaktion von Licht, Textil und Raum thematisiert.

Christiane Luible fokussiert auf die Schnittstelle zwischen Mode und Textil und beschreibt, wie digitale Technolo­ gien diese Schnittstelle zum Verschwinden bringen könn­ ten. Faith Kaine diskutiert die kulturelle Bedeutung einer neuseeländischen Pflanze und benutzt sie als Metapher für die Forschung im Textildesign.

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Roots and Rivers Textile Thinking for a Sustainable Future Faith Kane

Fig. 1 New Zealand Flax, Wharariki Beach 2017

«Because places are weaves or gatherings of varied elements, the idea of place presents an opportunity for holistic thinking about sustainability.» 1 This abstract begins with some of the insights I have gained from spending the past seven months in a new place: Aotearoa, New Zealand. New Zea­ land is a bicultural society informed by Maori and European culture. As I have slowly begun to learn what it means to live in this context, I have been struck by the sense of holistic thinking that exists in Maori culture, which does not separate environ­ mental, social, and economic concerns but draws them naturally together. And as I begin to consider the design and production of textiles from within New Zealand, I have quickly become aware of the harakeke plant, or New Zealand Flax (fig. 1).

Harakeke is one of New Zealand’s most distinc­ tive native plants. It grows throughout the country, from sea level to about 1300 m in altitude and is commonly found in lowland wetlands, along rivers, and in coastal areas on estuaries, dunes, and cliffs.2 The leaf strips of the plant are used in Maori weav­ ing traditions to produce containers and mats, alongside the use of extracted fibers to make tra­ ditional cloaks. From around 1870 to the 1980s its industrial manufacture for products such as ropes and woolsacks formed a significant part of New Zealand’s export industry. Today there is renewed interest in the fiber from a sustainability perspec­ tive.3 New organic materials incorporating flax are emerging through both scientific and design research endeavors, and the plant has many ben­ efits in terms of restoring, regenerating, and retain­ ing coastal regions. In Maori culture the harakeke plant represents a «whanau» or family group. The outer leaves represent the «tupuna» or ancestors; the inner leaves are the «matua» or parents; the innermost leaf is the «rito» or baby. Only the tupuna are cut as the matua are left to protect the rito.4 While new to me on many levels, these ideas point to the importance of identity and how it is manifest in our connection with nature. Considering this in relation to my research practice in textiles at a time of rapid change in terms of digital technology, material innovation, and intensifying societal chal­ lenges, it reaffirms my sense that we need to know where our roots lie as textile designers and prac­ titioners – and where those roots might extend into rivers, feeding, expanding, and growing textile knowledge and practice in the right direction.

Hence the title, «Roots and Rivers: Textile Thinking for a Sustainable Future.»

Roots and Rivers

In this text I use the analogy of «roots» and «rivers» to explore an approach to research in textiles that embraces, firstly, the «roots» of the discipline in hands-on interaction with materials and pro­ cesses and, secondly, the «rivers» that can provide a reciprocal flow of knowledge to and from these roots through interdisciplinarity, particularly in regard to science and engineering. It is an approach that I believe can lead to opportunities for sustain­ able innovation within the textiles and materials sector. Here I consider the notion of «textile think­ ing» as forming the «roots» and directing potential «rivers» of textile design through contemplating parallels with the symbolism of the harakeke plant, the intention being to engage and learn from my bicultural context.

To do this I first interrogate what could be per­ ceived as the roots and rivers of textiles by explor­ ing Rachel Philpott’s articulation of textile thinking, then I present a case study that demonstrates how this thinking might move us towards a sustainable future.5 The case study focuses on a recently com­ pleted research project in the area of laser pro­ cessing and enzyme biotechnologies for textiles surface design, called Laser Enhanced Bio-Tech­ nology for Textile Design (Innovative Technologies for Textile Colouration and Surface Design), and through it I argue that for textile design research to lead to sustainable innovation, research that draws implicitly and explicitly on both design and scientific inquiry is required.

Textile Thinking

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Over recent years much work has been undertaken to affirm the value of design within research con­ texts. The notions of design-led research, design practice as research, and design thinking are now acknowledged as established modes of knowl­ edge generation and problem solving. However, much of this is grounded in a relatively narrow per­ spective of design research and practice. Recent discourse in textile design analyses the nature and specificity of textile design and points to the sub­ sequent contribution it may offer within a variety contexts.6 Such ideas are captured in the notion of «textile thinking» as a sub-strand of the more generic term «design thinking.»7 This idea has in turn been developed in a recent text on «Textile

Thinking: A Flexible Connective Strategy for Con­ cept Generation and Problem Solving in Interdis­ ciplinary Contexts,» which notes two key areas of weakness in design thinking.8 Firstly there is the problematic homogenization of the diverse practices of different design disciplines and secondly there is a lack of recognition of the significance of materiality and making in shaping the cognitive processes in certain sub-disciplines of design, such as textiles. This discussion proposes the beginnings of a model or system of textile thinking based on Philpott’s original thesis. I suggest that this model might form the «roots» and direct poten­ tial «rivers» of textile design through contemplat­ ing parallels with the symbolism of the harakeke plant, as previously noted.

Figure 2 shows a diagrammatic representation of Philpott’s articulation of textile thinking (2011 and 2016), from which potential synergies with the symbolism of the harakeke plant (fig. 1) are drawn, as follows:9 1. Making and embodied knowledge is central to textile thinking, foregrounded in hands-on inter­ action with textile materials and processes and forming a tacit understanding amongst practi­ tioners. This is at the core – the rito – directly connected to the roots, where the life comes from, and this is to be protected. We might see this as our various personal and collective cultural and creative practices, or the education and development of new practitioners and researchers; 2. This tacit understanding draws implicitly on a variety of different knowledge domains leading to an instinctual application of chemistry, math­ ematics, physics, and engineering. These middle leaves – the matua – could be seen to strengthen and protect the core. We might see this as our research groups, our interdisciplinary connections, and so on; 3. Textile practice allows for an affinity with the micro-characteristics of cloth and the results of its manipulation, supported by sensory and lived experiences with textiles. Working in this way with physical structures that have connec­ tivity and continuity with a range of knowledge domains leads to the creation of dynamic systems; and 4. Leading finally, perhaps on a more philosophical level, to overarching frameworks of soft logics that draw on concepts of matrixes, nets, and meshes to indicate malleable, inclusive, and expansive ways of operating. These outer leaves – the tupuna – could be perceived to be the larger structures, histories, and theories that hold our practice together.

Through exploring these ideas, the intention has been to address why and how such a model or approach might be perceived as facilitating textile

design for a sustainable future. This mesh-like model shows that textile practice not only sup­ ports, but is often the instigator of the interdisci­ plinary research that is required to address the interconnected environmental, social, economic, and cultural challenges of the present and future.

1 Tim Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 2nd edn, Chichester 2015.

2 Harakeke and Wharariki Information Sheet.

3 Elizabeth McGruddy, «Integrating New Zealand Flax into Land Management Systems,» Sustainable Farming Fund: Project 03/153, 2006, http://www.nzpcn.org.nz/ publications/Harakeke-Report06. pdf (accessed 29 June 2017).

4 Conversations with Dale-Maree Morgan, Coordinator Kaupapa Moari, College of Creative Arts, Massey University, New Zealand, April 2017.

5 Rachel Philpott and Faith Kane, «Textile Thinking: A Flexible Connective Strategy for Concept Generation and Problem Solving in Interdisciplinary Contexts,» in: Craft Work as Problem Solving: Ethnographic Studies of Design and Making, edited by Trevor H. J. Marchand, Abingdon 2016.

6 Elaine Igoe, «In Textasis: Matrixial Narratives of Textile Design,» London 2013, http://research online.rca.ac.uk/1646/1/IGOE%20 Digital%20Thesis.pdf (accessed October 2017).

7 Rachel Philpott, «Structural Textiles: Adaptable Form and Surface in Three Dimensions,» London 2011.

8 Philpott and Kane, «Textile Thinking.»

9 Conversations with Dale-Maree Morgan.

Fig. 2 Diagrammatic representation of textile thinking, Kane 2017 (based on Philpott 2011 and 2016).

Soft logics

Variety of knowledge domains

Pattern

Chemistry

Textile Construction

Biomechanics

Touch

Making and embodied knowledge

Maths

Materials Science

Human Center

Microstructures

Color

Pattern

Dynamic systems

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Christophe Guberan, Carlo Clopath, Active Shoes, 2015, SelfAssembly Lab, MIT.

Innovative Wege mit Textilien zu arbeiten Christiane Luible

Die Welt der Mode befindet sich in einer Phase des Umbruchs, die Art wie Mode gedacht, produziert und wahrgenommen wird, verändert sich.

Bestehende Design- und Produktionsprozesse werden in Frage gestellt und mittels innovativer Technologien neue Ansätze und Alternativen erforscht: Mode und Visionen einer Mode, die gesellschaftliche und kulturelle Veränderungen ermöglichen. Daraus entseht Potential für einen nachhaltigen Systemumbruch hin zu einer Mode, die bezüglich Materialität, Form und Interaktivität grenzüberschreitend funktioniert.

Technologie als Katalysator

und auch das Material werden gleichzeitig gestal­ tet, verschmelzen zu einem Designelement. Das zweidimensionale Schnittmuster wird zum Neben­ produkt oder verschwindet komplett.

Neue additive Fertigungsmethoden wie der 3DDruck ermöglichen das Umsetzen dieser digitalen Modelle. Auch bezüglich einer neuartigen, perso­ nalisierten Herstellung von Produkten in der Mode sind sie vielversprechend. Das Design­kollektiv threeASFOUR zum Beispiel hat für seine Kollek­ tion Biomimicry ein Kleid generiert.2 Die 3D-Form dieses Kleides basiert auf der ma­ thematischen Fibonacci Sequenz und wirkt wie ein 3D-Spitzenstoff, der gleichzeitig auch die Struktur des Kleidungstückes darstellt. Iris van Herpen ihrerseits ist die zurzeit führende Mode­ designerin im Verwenden von 3D-Druck Techno­ logie.3 Mit Materialitäten experimentierend, gibt es in fast jeder ihrer Kollektionen ein teilweise oder vollständig gedrucktes Kleid. Die Kollektionen ent­ stehen direkt dreidimensional und benötigen kei­ ne 2D-Informationen, kein Schnittmuster, mehr – Modedesign und Textildesign überschneiden sich und verschmelzen.

Obwohl die 3D-Druck Technologie heute sehr fortgeschritten ist, sind Beispiele in der Mode im­ mer noch auf ein paar wenige künstlerische und konzeptuelle Projekte reduziert. Der Grund hierfür liegt vor allem im Material.

Technologie war immer schon ein wichtiger Kata­ lysator für die Mode. Einflussreiche Modedesig­ nerinnen und Modedesigner haben seit je her ge­ zielt die Technik ihrer Zeit genutzt. Pierre Cardin zum Beispiel erfand mit der damals neuen Che­ miefaser seine Prêt-à-porter Mode. Mary Quant verhalf die Herstellungstechnik der Feinstrumpf­ hose zum Druchbruch ihrer Mini-Mode.1 Früher ba­ sierten technologische Innovationen in der Mode hauptsächlich auf neuen Materialien, einer neuen Verwendung existierender Materialien oder neuen Produktionsmethoden. Heute stehen viel mehr neue Technologien in einem immer kürzeren Zeitrahmen zur Verfügung, welche nicht mehr nur auf das Material oder eine Produktionsmethode redu­ ziert sind. Die Einsatzmöglichkeiten dieser neuen Technologien für Design-, und Produktionsprozes­ se stehen zudem nicht mehr nur nebeneinander, vielmehr beeinflussen und bedingen sie sich ge­ genseitig. Kleidung mit integrierter Elektronik, so­ genannte Wearables zum Beispiel, sind vernetzt und reagieren auf den Träger oder die Umwelt – sie sind für die Mode ein komplett neues Gestaltungs­ element. Neue Möglichkeiten innovativer additiver Fertigung wie der 3D-Druck und damit eng zusam­ menhängende digitale 3D-Designmethoden haben das Potential, traditionelle Methoden der Mode zu erneuern und zu ersetzen. Wearables und die ad­ ditive Fertigung werden von Fachjournalen als die Bereiche mit dem grössten Wachstum und der grössten Bedeutung für eine Mode der Zukunft ge­handelt.

Von 2D zu 3D zu 4D

3D-Design in der Mode

Unsere Körper sind komplexe dreidimensionale Formen. Um diese mit Stoff zu umhüllen, haben sich in der Mode über Jahrhunderte aufwendige 2D-Schnitttechniken entwickelt und verfeinert.

Eine weitere Methode ist die Drapage, mit der das zweidimensionale textile Material direkt am Körper in eine dreidimensionale Form gebracht wird.

Digitale Technologien eröffnen neuartige 3DDesign- und Produktionsmethoden für die Mode.

Computerbasierte Designwerkzeuge ermöglichen das Entwerfen komplexer Formen für den in seiner Form schwer zu erfassenden Körper mittels ein­ fachem Code und in 3D. Form, Struktur, Oberfläche

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Textilien weisen aufgrund ihrer Struktur einmalige Trageeigenschaften auf: Ihr Aufbau aus Fasern oder Filamenten sowie je nach Herstellungsart unterschiedlich gewobenen, gestrickten oder ge­ wirkten Fäden und Garnen ergibt eine sehr hohe Zugfestigkeit gepaart mit einer hohen Biegeelas­ tizität. Diese aus mechanischer Sicht sehr beson­ deren und konträren Eigenschaften erlauben dem Träger/der Trägerin eines Kleidungsstücks das Hin­ setzen ohne dass der Stoff reisst, bei gleichzeitiger freier Bewegung ohne Einschränkung. Ausserdem besitzen Textilien perfekte körperphysiologische Eigenschaften. Die Haut wird vor Umwelteinflüs­ sen geschützt, kann jedoch unter dem Stoff atmen.

Will man Mode und Bekleidung dreidimensional denken und produzieren, ist es wichtig ein Mate­ rial zu entwickeln, das bezüglich seiner mechani­ schen und körperphysiologischen Eigenschaften

mindestens an die eines Textils heranreicht. Beim 3D-Druck, wie es ihn heute gibt, muss ein Werk­ stoff zuerst geschmolzen werden, um diesen an­ schliessend schichtweise in eine neue Form zu bringen. So entstehen Produkte, die im Vergleich zu textilen Erzeugnissen um einiges steifer und weniger robust sind. Deren Tragqualität ist noch sehr weit von der eines Textils mit seiner jahrtau­ sendealten Entwicklungsgeschichte entfernt. So­ lange jedoch dieses Materialproblem nicht gelöst ist, wird sich der 3D-Druck wie es ihn heute gibt in der Mode nicht durchsetzen. Bereits vor einigen Jahren hat Neri Oxman mit dem Silk Pavillion auf­ gezeigt, wie ein neues Hybridmaterial durch eine geschickte Zusammenarbeit von Natur und Tech­ nik entstehen könnte.4 Seidenwürmer wurden als eine Art natürlicher 3D Drucker eingesetzt.

3D-Druck

Wichtige Entwicklungen für neue Materialien ent­ stehen heute im Bereich der Biowerkstoffe. Das Start-up Modern Meadow erforscht bereits neue formbare Biomaterialien auf Basis nachwachsen­ der Rohstoffe, unter anderem für einen Einsatz in der Mode.5 Andere interessante Ansätze nutzen geschickt die Vorteile des textilen Materials und des 3DDrucks aus, wobei ein 3D-Druck auf das Textil ein Volumen erzeugt.

Jesus Perez und seine Kollegen zum Beispiel ha­ ben ein computerbasiertes 3D-Designtool entwi­ ckelt, bei welchem ein 3D-Netz aus Kurven auf einen vorgespannten Stoff gedruckt wird. Nach dem Druck wird das Netz ausgeschnitten, wobei das Textil eine komplexe dreidimensionale Form annimmt.6 Diese Art der Formfindung untersuchte bereits Christophe Guberan am Self-Assembly Lab des MIT.7 In seinem Forschunsgprojekt Active Shoes hinterfragte Guberan existierende Produk­ tionsmethoden: durch einen mehrschichtigen 3D-Druck auf das vorgespannte Material wird eine sich selbst transformierende Struktur erschaffen, die sich in vorprogrammierte Formen umwandelt.

Am Institut für Textiltechnik am RWTH Aachen werden Mikrostrukturen mittels 3D-Technik in ein Textil eingedruckt: Das dreidimensionale Textil re­ agiert auf die Umgebung, es entsteht eine vierte Dimension, eine Veränderung mit der Zeit.8 Ein Temperaturanstieg oder eine Veränderung der Feuchtigkeit führt zu einer Bewegung des Hybrid­ materials, das Material passt sich an oder wächst mit – die Mode wird scheinbar lebendig.

Résumé

In der Zukunft stehen für die Mode komplett neue Design- und Produktionsprozesse zur Verfügung.

Form und Material werden immer weniger getrennt betrachtet, Produktdesign und Werkstoffentwick­

lung werden sich immer mehr überschneiden und schliesslich verschmelzen. Dank neuen Techno­ logien ist heute auch das 3D-Design von Mode möglich. In der 3D-Produktion von Mode muss das Materialproblem noch gelöst werden. Für die Ent­ wicklung neuer Materialien werden chemische Kompetenzen immer bedeutsamer. Interaktivität wird als zusätzliches Designelement Teil von Ge­ staltungsprozessen in der Mode. Die Frage, was dergestaltige Kleidungsstücke genau können wer­ den, ist heute noch unbeantwortet – wichtige As­ pekte werden sicher Privatsphäre, Schutz und Identität sein.

1 Ingrid Loschek, Reclams Mode & Kostümlexikon, Stuttgart, 2005, S. 92.

2 threeASFOUR, http://www. threeasfour.com/ (aufgerufen am 26. September 2017).

3 Iris van Herpen, http://www. irisvanherpen.com/ (aufgerufen am 26. September 2017).

4 Neri Oxman, Silk Pavillion Environment, 2013, http://matter. media.mit.edu/environments/ details/silk-pavillion (aufgerufen am 26. September 2017).

5 Modern Meadow, http://www. modernmeadow.com/about-us/ (aufgerufen am 26. September 2017).

← Mariia Zubakova, Studentin Fashion & Technology, 2016. ↑ Neri Oxman, Silk Pavillion, 2013, Blick durch die Pavillion Struktur auf die spinnenden Seidenwürmer, Fotografie von Steven Keating.

6 Jesus Perez, Miguel A. Otaduy, Bernhard Tomaszewski, «Computational Design and Automated Fabrication of Kirchhoff-Plateau Surfaces», in: ACM Transactions on Graphics 36, (2017), Nr. 4., Artikel 62.

7 Self-Assembly Lab, http://www. selfassemblylab.net/ActiveShoes. php (aufgerufen am 26. September 2017).

8 4D textiles: application in sports industry, hrsg. von Simonis, Kristina u. a., Future textiles 2 (2017)., Nr 2, S. 38–39.

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Fig. 1 ÂŤCopper WeaveÂť material prototype.

Here we see an example of spatially distributed light continuously diffused and reflected in the warm copper hue.

Textilization of Light Astrid Mody

Light enables us to see. Light reflected by the walls of a room shapes our perception of that room. The walls may pose a physical barrier, but what we see are reflections from the walls. Still, we rarely con­ template light because it is not the light that we see so much as the effect that it has on surfaces.

By suggesting textiles as a design model for LED technology, the PhD project Textilization of Light – Using Textile Logics to Expand the Use of LED Technology from a Technology of Display to a Technology of Spatial Orientation investigates how textile ideas can be applied to expand the use of light-emitting diodes (LEDs) from a two-dimensional display technology to a technology with spatial qualities.

be transferred to architecture, and which logics of textiles and LED technology are capable of sup­ porting this? The research is developed through a research method that links iterative design pro­ totyping on three related modes of material evi­ dence: the design probe, the material prototype, and the demonstration.2 Testing and evaluation is conducted at three different sites: the lab, the field, and the showroom.3 Specifically, I have explored two textile concepts – «embedded circuitry» and «textile logics» – through more than twenty proto­ types, culminating in the large-scale Textilization of Light demonstration.

Textile logics are challenged by expanding on how textile ideas and principles can become struc­ tural models for architecture and electronics, while the logics of LED technology are questioned by exploring the idea of an embedded circuitry to sup­ port spatial and temporal integration of light into architecture.

LED technology as a new paradigm for thinking about and working with light in architecture

LED technology is a relatively new lighting tech­ nology that, thanks to its low power consumption, its minimal size, and its potential for integration, color range, and easy controllability, enables a new paradigm for conceptual approaches to light.

This research project argues that LED technology not only changes the premises for design but also impacts how light and architecture are conceptu­ alized and experienced. It develops a framework for understanding light as a spatial condition rather than a technology, and suggests the «spatializa­ tion of light» and «immersive light» as spatial con­ cepts for realizing the spatial potential of LED tech­ nology and making light an architectural element in its own right.

How can the continuous logic of a woven material be linked to the logic of LED power and control?

LEDs can be manufactured with classic electri-­­ cal wiring or by using other conductive materials.

Working with conductive materials and embedded circuitry fuses technology and material into one element and lends corporeality to a surface or space while simultaneously illuminating the LEDs, using the aesthetic qualities of the materials and the light in a coherent form-finding process.

Spatialization of light: the Copper Weave material prototype

Light and architecture

One of the first people to articulate a relationship between light and architecture was the German engineer Joachim Teichmüller. He proposed the concept of Architekturlicht (architectural lighting) as a use of light to illuminate and emphasize exist­ ing architectural qualities, and the concept of Lichtarchitektur (architecture in light), encompassing the way light can be used as an architectural ele­ ment to create spaces.1 Building on this and linking it to the current maturity of LED technology, I am investigating how LED technology enables the designer to work with LED light as a material for design, exploring its spatial and aesthetic qualities.

Textiles as a design model for LED technology in an architectural context

My PhD thesis explores spatial design using LEDs as spatial lighting elements within smart textiles.

It starts with the claim that textiles can provide strategies for bridging LED technology and archi­ tecture, then asks two questions: how can a textile be a site for circuitry? And how can textile ideas

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The Copper Weave material prototype (fig. 1) explores the idea of embedded LED light and is an example of the spatialization of light. Through Copper Weave I explore how copper can be used both as a conductor and as a reflector and diffuser.

The copper form is based on a woven material and made from two-dimensional laser-cut copper sheets. The weave constitutes a continuous ten­ sile structure, making it possible to work at an architectural scale and creating continuity of spa­ tial expression. Individually, the laser-cut sheets are weak, but they become strong when drawn taut by tensile wires and from the plastic rivets that connect and insulate the individual sheets.

The Copper Weave links the LEDs in a connected series by allowing the woven copper sheets to double as a conductor for the electricity. The result is a spatially distributed light, continuously dif­ fused and reflected in the warm copper hue. The structure of the weave allows for an emerging light experience defined by contrasts and differences of brightness and illumination and without glare effects.

← Figs. 2 & 3 Demonstration how the Woven Light LED plug and play system can be applied to the interior scale at the gallery space LETH & GORI. Here we see an example of how an LED screen can change from two to three dimensions; the screen creates passages, views, and spatial situations. → Fig. 4 Spatial effect working with LEDs as spatial lighting in the architectural installation Textilization of Light. ↓ Fig. 5 Installation process of Textilization of Light and a single mod­ule of the Woven Light LED plug and play system.

node extend four threads that diffuse and reflect the light while also constituting the structure.

These threads are made from silicone tubes and metal springs and can vary in length. The light trav­ els through the threads and, depending on the light intensity and the length of the threads, the light from two nodes may meet. The threads also func­ tion as electricity conductors for the circuitry through the metal springs, so one side is positive and the other side is negative. The resulting struc­ ture resembles a weave, i. e., a structure in which two systems of threads are brought together. Here the two systems can be seen as the plus and minus flow through the threads.

Technologically, Woven Light develops new knowledge in the realm of LED technology, extend­ ing LED technology through the use of expanded control by replacing wired flow of power and con­ trol and centralized control (via a DMX-controller) with a wireless design solution that allows auton­ omous control of each individual pixel of the light display.

Working with light as a formable textile and light space maker

Immersive light: demonstration of the Textilization of Light

While it is difficult to predict the future of LED light­ ing, there is no doubt that we have so far only seen a glimmer of its full potential. Indeed, my Textiliza­ tion of Light demonstration provides evidence of the applicability of Woven Light and the associated parametric design tool on an interior scale. Evolu­ tionary development of site-specific applications of Woven Light, for instance as a facade covering or a ceiling structure within an office environment, could be one future path for my research.

Another ultimate aspiration of my research is that it should inspire others to work with LED light­ ing in new ways. I have indicated some potential applications for embedding LEDs in other mate­ rials and spatial or architectural structures, but there are many others. A third path for future research could be further studies on the concept of immersive light, pushing the idea of interaction and exploring what it would be like to live in immer­ sive spaces constructed by light, spaces that change and respond to our movements.

The central architectural installation of my research project Textilization of Light draws on previous prototypes as a full-scale example of immersive light (fig. 4). It demonstrates how LED technology can take on spatial qualities, since people are able to enter the screen, which in turn creates passages, views, and spatial situations. More specifically, the installation tests and contextualizes the usa­ bility and applicability of the Woven Light LED plug and play system and the connected, customized parametric design tool at a specific site: the gal­ lery space LETH & GORI (figs. 2 & 3).

Woven Light

Woven Light consists of a modular system devel­ oped through research and a customized paramet­ ric design tool exploring how the textile concepts of embedded circuitry and textile logics can be combined in order to create an immersive light space that surrounds its occupants. This immer­ sive space is a space of light rather than a surface or a point. It is potentially adaptable to the situa­ tion and to the occupant’s desires. In this light space the material is used as a conductor, diffuser, and reflector of light; the light becomes at once the wall by which it is reflected and a source of light with both depth and extension.

Each Woven Light module consists of a node containing the printed circuit board and four LEDs. The node is wrapped in a 3D-printed body of opaque polyamide powder material. From each

1 Joachim Teichmüller, Lichtarchitektur, Berlin 1927.

2 Mette Ramsgaard Thomsen & Martin Tamke, «Narratives of Making: Thinking Practice Led Research in Architecture,» paper presented at the International Conference on Research and Practice in Architecture and Design, Brussels 2009.

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3 Ilpo Koskinen et al., Design Research Through Practice, Waltham 2011.

Kunst, Design & Ă–ffentlichkeit

Die Forschungsgruppe Kunst, Design & Öffentlichkeit machte in ihrer Tagung Anerkennung jetzt! Bloss wofür?

Selbstorganisation in und mit Kunst vom 21. und 22. April 2017 aus üblicherweise stark ritualisierten Formen wissenschaftlicher Kommunikation ein methodisches Verfahren für die laufende Forschung. Auf Austausch und Vernetzung ausgerichtet, beabsichtigte sie mit der Veranstaltung, den Forschungsprozess zu öffnen, Zwischenergebnisse aus der laufenden Recherche zu präsentieren und zur Diskussion zu stellen. Aus den Vorträgen, Diskussionen, sowie aus informellen Momenten wie Pausengesprächen konnten produktive Erkenntnisse generiert werden, die ohne diese spezifischen Formate nicht greifbar geworden wären. Der folgende Artikel zeigt gelungene Seiten, sowie Grenzen eines auf Austausch und Öffnung angelegten Forschungsvorhabens.

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Tagung als Methode

Zur partizipativen Forschungspraxis im Projekt Off OffOff Of? Schweizer Kulturpolitik und Selbstorganisation in der Kunst seit 1980» Gabriel Flückiger, Andrea Glauser, Rachel Mader, Sarah Merten, Pablo Müller, Vera Leisibach, Peter Spillmann (Forschungsteam Kunst, Design & Öffentlichkeit)

Anerkennung Jetzt! Bloss wofür? war Teil des vom Schweizerischen Nationalfonds geförderten For­ schungsprojekts Off OffOff Of? Schweizer Kulturpolitik und Selbstorganisation in der Kunst seit 1980.

Gegenstand des Projektes ist die bis anhin nicht systematisch geleistete Aufarbeitung selbstorga­ nisierter Aktivitäten im Feld der Kunst – unter Ein­ bezug der betreffenden AkteurInnen. Trotz man­ gelnder Anerkennung seitens Kulturpolitik und Kunstwissenschaft haben sich selbstorganisierte Aktivitäten und Initiativen im letzten Drittel des 20.

Jahrhunderts zu einem der wichtigsten Standbei­ ne zeitgenössischer Kunstproduktion entwickelt.

Die anerkannten Ausstellungshäuser etwa greifen bei der Auswahl künstlerischer Arbeiten für ihre Ausstellungen in entscheidendem Masse auf die an diesen Orten präsentierte Kunst zurück. Adap­ tiert haben sie auch die in diesen Räumen entwi­ ckelten neuen Formate, darunter Gesprächsmo­ delle, unkonventionelle Vermittlungsangebote oder auch soziale Veranstaltungen wie Partys oder Bars. Trotz der offenkundig wichtigen und innova­ tionstreibenden Funktion dieser Initiativen für die gesamte Kunstszene reagiert die Kulturförderung weiterhin zögerlich darauf. Die wenigsten Förder­ gremien auf Kantons- oder Gemeindeebene un­ terstützen derartige Strukturen, das Bundesamt für Kultur hat sein mehrjähriges Förderprogramm vor wenigen Jahren gestrichen und der daraufhin von der Pro Helvetia ins Leben gerufene Ersatz ist mit einem kleinen Betrag dotiert, zudem sind die Bedingungen für eine Gesuchseingabe äusserst rigide. Das Forschungsprojekt beabsichtigt, die­ sem lebendigen und heterogenen Schaffen zu Sichtbarkeit zu verhelfen und durch eine kritische Diskussion der Initiativen und deren kulturpoliti­ schen Rahmenbedingungen Grundlagen für zu­ künftige Debatten zu schaffen. Das Projekt um­ fasst zum einen das Auswerten konkreter Doku­ mente und Materialien wie Mission Statements, Gesuche, oder Briefwechsel, zum anderen Gesprä­ che und Interviews mit BetreiberInnen selbst­or­ ga­nisierter Räume und mit Verantwortlichen aus der Kulturpolitik und -förderung.

Die Veranstaltung fand etwa in der Hälfte des auf drei Jahre angelegten Forschungsprojekts statt. Hauptsächlich auf den Austausch und die Vernetzung mit der selbstorganisierten Kunst­ szene ausgerichtet, beabsichtigten wir, den For­ schungsprozess zu öffnen, Fragen und Themen aus der laufenden Recherche zu präsentieren und zur Diskussion zu stellen. Der Fokus lag dabei nicht nur auf selbstorganisierten Kunsträumen in der Schweiz, nicht zuletzt, weil die hiesigen Akti­ vitäten auch mit den international geführten De­ batten verstrickt sind. Die Tagung bestand aus einer Konferenz, einem Witness-Roundtable und einem Workshop: Vorträge internationaler Gäste dienten als Kommentar zu einzelnen unserer For­

schungsfragen, ein generationenübergreifendes Podiumsgespräch mit ProtagonistInnen aus der selbstorganisierten Kunstszene der Schweiz reg­ te zur aktiven Erinnerungsarbeit an und in einem ganztägigen Workshop diskutierten wir mit Be­ treiberInnen selbstorganisierter Räume und Initiativen über ihren Alltag. Diese vielschichtige, par­ tizipative Forschungsanlage verunsicherte zuwei­ len das Publikum.

Konferenz – Selbstorganisation im internationalen Kontext

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Die Konferenz gliederte sich entlang von drei vor­ gängig von unserem Forschungsteam herausge­ arbeiteten Fragen. Die eingeladenen ReferentIn­ nen sollten diese aus einer Aussenperspektive kommentieren. Im ersten Teil Wer schreibt wie wessen Geschichte? ging es darum, dass Betrei­ berInnen selbstorganisierter Kunstinitiativen auf eine historiographische Aufarbeitung oftmals zu­ rückweisend reagieren. Eingeladen waren der Ku­ rator Jochen Becker aus Berlin und der Kulturwis­ senschaftler Christian Kravagna aus Wien. Beide hatten eine langjährige Praxis in und mit dem Span­ nungsverhältnis Geschichtsschreibung und selb­ storganisierte Praxis, sei es als ehemaliger Akteur (Becker), bzw. als Wissenschaftler mit einem spe­ zifischen Interesse an derartigen künstlerischen Strategien (Kravagna). Im zweiten Teil Zusammen, instabil, spontan und engagiert fragten wir nach dem Stellenwert des Sozialen in der Selbstorga­ nisation. Interessante Inputs hierzu kamen vom Künstler und Theoretiker Stephan Geene und der Kuratorin und Kulturwissenschaftlerin Annette Maechtel. Beide sind aus Berlin und beschäftigen sich seit Jahren in ihrer künstlerischen und kura­ torischen Praxis, wie auch aus theoretischer Per­ spektive mit der Frage, welchen Stellenwert infor­ melle Bindungen für selbstorganisierte Initiativen spielen. Im dritten Teil reagierten die Stadtforsche­ rin und Soziologin Elsa Vivant aus Paris und die Kuratorin und Kunstvermittlerin Anke Hoffmann aus Zürich vor dem Hintergrund ihres wissen­ schaftlichen Schaffens bzw. ihrer kuratorischen und kunstvermittlerischen Tätigkeit auf die Frage Wie verändert künstlerische Selbstorganisation Kunst, ihre Institutionen und die Kulturpolitik selbst?

Wer schreibt wie wessen Geschichte? ging – wie das Forschungsprojekt selbst – davon aus, dass die Geschichte der selbstorganisierten Kunsträume in der Schweiz noch zu schreiben ist. In den letzten Jahren sind zwar einige Publikationen zum Thema erschienen. Diese stammen entweder von Mitwirkenden an solchen Kunsträumen oder ge­ hören zu den zahlreich erschienen Hochschularbei­ ten zu diesem Phänomen, die sich meist auf ein einzelnes Projekt oder einen bestimmten geogra­ fischen Raum, zum Beispiel die Stadt Zürich, be­schränken. Eine kritische Historisierung von die­

sem mittlerweile mehrere Jahrzehnte die Schwei­ zer Kunstszene prägenden Phänomen und dessen kulturpolitischen Rahmenbedingungen fehlt bis­ her gänzlich. Ausserdem herrscht in der selbstor­ ganisierten Kunstszene eine gewisse Skepsis ge­ genüber der Vorstellung historisiert zu werden.

Diese Vorbehalte teilt sie mit VertreterInnen na­ hezu sämtlicher alternativer Kunstszenen, was oft dazu führt, dass die AkteurInnen die Geschichts­ schreibung nicht aus der Hand zu geben bereit sind.

Die ersten beiden Referenten, Jochen Becker und Christian Kravagna präsentierten zwei exempla­ rische Fälle zur Geschichtsschreibung selbstorga­ nisierter Praxis. Becker berichtete von der 2015/16 im MUMOK in Wien durchgeführten Ausstellung to expose, to show, to demonstrate, to inform to offer. Künstlerische Praktiken um 1990. Die Aus­ stellung unternahm den Versuch, die institutions­ kritische Kunstpraxis der 1990er Jahre in einer Ausstellung und damit unter einem diese zusam­ menschliessenden Narrativ vorzustellen. Dies sorgte vonseiten der Kunstschaffenden und Kul­ turproduzentInnen für grundlegende Kritik: In ei­ nem E-Mail Kettenbrief von rund dreissig, in jenen Jahren aktiven ExponentInnen wurde die Darstel­ lung dieser künstlerischen Aktivitäten kritisiert, etwa weil sie es versäume, auf das politische Klima der Zeit nach 1989 einzugehen. Wie auch Jochen Becker in seinem Vortrag betonte, seien aber ge­ rade diese Zeitumstände für die damalige Kunst­ produktion markant prägend gewesen. Mit dem Hinweis auf den Mauerfall in Berlin und den ras­ sistisch motivierten Ausschreitungen unter ande­ rem in Rostock-Lichtenhagen im Jahr 1992, for­ derte der Referent eine kontextsensible Darstel­ lungsweise künstlerischer Produktion. Es gehe darum, die zeithistorischen und soziopolitischen Umstände viel expliziter einzubeziehen und als eng verknüpft mit der Kunst selbst zu denken. Einen anderen Zugang zur Geschichtsschreibung selbst­ organisierter Praktiken griff Christian Kravagna in seinem Input auf. Er berichtete von den aus der Bürgerrechtsbewegung in den 1960er Jahren her­ vorgegangen Museen in den Vereinigten Staaten, die meist von Schwarzen AktivistInnen gegründet wurden. Sie wollten die in offiziellen Museen feh­ lende Geschichte ihrer Lebensrealitäten dokumen­ tieren. Die Schwarze Community begrüsste – ganz im Unterschied zu der von Becker beschriebenen selbstorganisierten Kunstszene – diese vorange­ triebene Geschichtsschreibung. Durch das Bei­ steuern ihrer privaten Sammlungen trugen sie zum Ausbau dieser Museen bei, beeinflussten so auch die kuratorische Gestaltung und nutzten die mu­ sealen Örtlichkeiten als soziale Treffpunkte, eig­ neten sich diese also in ihrem Sinne an.

Die Selbstorganisation in der Kunstpraxis im Deutschland der 1990er Jahre und im Black Mu­ seum Movement in den Vereinigten Staaten der

1960er und 1970er Jahre waren beide stark poli­ tisch geprägt, das Verhältnis zur eigenen Histo­ risierung jedoch konträr: Die Projektkunst-Gene­ ration sieht in der eigenen Historisierung eine Problemzone, befürchtet eine eindimensionale Festschreibung und Vereinfachung. Ähnliche Vor­ behalte nahmen wir auch bei unserer Recherche der künstlerischen Selbstorganisation im Schwei­ zer Kontext wahr. Ganz im Unterschied dazu sieht die Schwarze Community in den Museen des Black Museum Movement ein emanzipatorisches Mo­ ment und ergreift aktiv die Möglichkeit, mit ihrer Geschichte sichtbar zu werden.

Der zweite Teil Zusammen, instabil, spontan und engagiert thematisierte die Wichtigkeit sozialer Momente in der künstlerischen Selbstorganisati­ on. Das Zusammensein und die Szenenbildung verstehen wir als zentrale Merkmale dieser Kunsträume. Ausserdem finden soziale Formen zuneh­ mend Eingang in die künstlerische Praxis: eine Bar betreiben, Party machen, Veranstaltungen organisieren und andere interaktive Formen er­ weitern mehr und mehr das traditionelle Format der Ausstellung. Zusammen, instabil, spontan und engagiert sind begriffliche Fundstücke aus unse­ rer bisherigen Recherche, mit der diese spezifi­ schen Eigenschaften selbstorganisierter Prakti­ ken positiv wie auch negativ beschrieben wurden.

Der Künstler und Theoretiker Stephan Geene be­ tonte in seinem Vortrag, dass die sozialen Quali­ täten der künstlerischen Selbstorganisation zwar viele Versprechen nach neuen oder experimen­ tellen Zuständen beinhalten, die Wirkung dieser Zusammenschlüsse jedoch nicht selten dann in sich zusammenfallen, wenn sich die Versprechen einlösen, etwa wenn eine anfänglich sich lose versammelnde Gruppe sich verfestigt, Räume erhält und Strukturen aufrecht erhalten muss.

Daher warf er auch die Frage auf, inwiefern das Streben nach Anerkennung fast unausweichlich Machtverhältnisse und asymmetrische Konstel­ lationen mit sich bringt. Die Kulturwissenschaft­ lerin Annette Maechtel diskutierte am Beispiel von Botschaft e.V. – einem interdisziplinären Netzwerk, das zwischen 1990 und 1996 in Berlin aktiv war – inwiefern die Ablehnung von Organisationstruk­ turen und die teilweise absichtlich unterlassene Selbstdokumentation eine Verweigerungsstrate­ gie gegen die von Geene erwähnten Mechanismen darstellen kann. Maechtel betonte die hohe Pro­ duktivität solcher kollaborativer Projekte – Botschaft e. V. hat zum Beispiel ein dreissigstündiges Radioprogramm produziert. Damit verwies sie auf einen auch für unser Forschungsprojekt wichtigen Umstand, nämlich die schiere Menge an Quellen­ material, dem im Rahmen regulärer Projektlauf­ zeiten kaum je beizukommen ist. Im Falle unseres Forschungsprojektes bedeutet dies, dass wir den Fokus auf exemplarische Konstellationen wie zum

Beispiel Städte oder Zeitfenster legen, um von dort aus Tendenzen nachzuzeichnen und Fragestellun­ gen zu entwickeln. Die so entstehenden Lücken werden aber nicht versteckt, vielmehr program­ matisch betont. Die nicht zu umgehende Unvoll­ ständigkeit ist eine aufschlussreiche Aussage über den Gegenstand.

Der dritte Teil Wie verändert Selbstorganisation Kunst, ihre Institutionen und die Kulturpolitik selbst? beleuchtete die Wechselwirkungen zwischen den selbstorganisierten Kunsträumen, den Kunstins­ titutionen und der Kulturpolitik. Wir gingen hierbei von einer dichten und komplexen, gegenseitigen Verstrickung dieser Sphären aus. Die Soziologin Elsa Vivant berichtete von aktuellen Entwicklun­ gen in Paris: dort bezieht die hoheitliche Stadtent­ wicklung selbstorganisierte Kunstinitiativen in ihre Planung mit ein, wodurch diese zu einem wichti­ gen Faktor in der Transformation von urbanen Räu­ men werden. Im Zuge dieser Integration in Stadtentwicklungsprozesse nehme die Konkurrenz zwi­ schen diesen Projekten zu, was dem Geist der So­ lidarität, aus dem heraus sie sich meist entwickeln, zuwider laufe. Auf eine andersgeartete Verbindung zwischen künstlerischer Selbstorganisation und anerkannten Strukturen fokussierte die Kuratorin Anke Hoffmann. Sie ging in ihrem Vortrag von einer Art Symbiose zwischen den selbstorganisierten Initiativen und etablierten Kunstinstitutionen aus.

Die beständige Suche nach dem Neuen im Kunst­ feld könne nicht alleine von den etablierten Insti­ tutionen geleistet werden, so ihre These. Es brau­ che zum Experimentieren Raum ausserhalb oder dazwischen. Vor dem Hintergrund dieser zwei Vor­ träge wurde der ambivalente Charakter von Be­ griffen, wie Freiraum oder Unabhängigkeit deut­ lich. Gerade selbstorganisierte Initiativen nutzen diese Bezeichnungen häufig, um sich so von den Ritualen und Regeln des gängigen Kunstbetriebs abzugrenzen. Doch nähren Freiräume auch den etablierten Mainstream – in Bezug auf die Kunst­ schaffenden, die Kuratierenden, die Vermittlung oder auch die künstlerische Praxis.

Die Konferenz machte deutlich, dass selbstor­ ganisierte Kunsträume einen Impact auf etablier­ te Institutionen, sowie auf Kulturpolitik und Stadt­ entwicklung haben, auch wenn dieser nicht von allen begrüsst wird. Eine wichtige Rolle spielt da­ bei ein ständig neu auszuhandelndes Verhältnis produktiver Opposition, die von den AkteurInnen der künstlerischen Selbstorganisation häufig ein­ genommen wird.

Witness-Roundtable – Generationen im Dialog

Das Format Witness-Roundtable war inspiriert von den Witness Seminaren der Geschichtswissen­ schaften. Ausgewählte Zeitzeugen nehmen an ei­ nem gemeinsamen Gespräch teil, womit ergän­

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zend zu den vorhandenen schriftlichen Quellen mündliches Wissen gesammelt wird. Im Unter­ schied zur Oral History, in der das Gespräch meist nur mit einer einzelnen Person geführt wird, be­ günstigt der Einbezug mehrerer Zeitzeugen den Erinnerungsprozess zusätzlich. Die Gruppensitua­ tion unterstützt den Dialog und ermöglicht gegen­ seitige Ergänzungen.

An unserem Witness-Roundtable waren Prota­ gonistInnen aus verschiedenen Generationen künstlerischer Selbstorganisation in der Schweiz anwesend. Alle engagierten sich längere Zeit in selbstorganisierten Projekten, schrieben diesen Aktivitäten in ihrer individuellen Biografie und ih­ rem jeweiligen beruflichen Werdegang einen ho­ hen Stellenwert zu. Chris Regn (Kaskadenkonden­ sator, Basel), hat den grössten Teil ihrer Tätigkeit als Performance-Künstlerin und Veranstalterin in wenig etablierten Strukturen unternommen. Ähn­ lich interessierte sich auch Jérôme Massard (KLAT, Genf) von Anfang an für eine längerfristige Pers­ pektive in selbstorganisierten Projekten und en­ gagierte sich entsprechend für den Aufbau von Ateliergemeinschaften und Produktionsinfrastruk­ turen. Für Lisa Fuchs (o.T. Raum für aktuelle Kunst, Luzern) und Noah Stolz (La Rada, Locarno) war die Zeit in diesen selbstorganisierten Kunsträumen der Anfang einer Berufsbiografie, die sie unterdes­ sen in gefestigte Strukturen der Kulturpolitik und Kunstvermittlung getragen hat. Andreas Nieder­ hauser (Kunsthaus Oerlikon, Zürich) seinerseits berichtete von kaum anfallenden Mietkosten für ihren damaligen Raum, dem Kunsthaus Oerlikon (1986–1996), und brachte damit das für alle auf je spezifische Weise wichtige Thema der Finanzie­ rung auf den Tisch. Der Erlass von Miete hätte beim Kunsthaus Oerlikon zu einer unbeschwerten Pro­ duktionslust geführt, alle hätten einfach machen können. Mit dieser Wendung beschreiben insbe­ sondere BetreiberInnen einer frühen Generation immer wieder ihr Tun, bei dem es weniger um eine Programmatik, als um die Entdeckung neuer Hand­ lungsspielräume ging. Aktuell zeigt sich die Situa­ tion jedoch gänzlich anders: Jérôme Massard zum Beispiel forderte eine dezidierte Ethik bei der An­ nahme finanzieller Unterstützung seitens selbst­ organisierter Kunsträume. Ein Projekt, das von Fondation Nestlé pour l’Art gefördert werde, sei für ihn nicht alternativ, erklärt der Künstler apo­ diktisch.1 Die Diskussion brachte unterschiedliche Haltungen zum Vorschein sowie ein weiteres zen­ trales Merkmal selbstorganisierter Praxis: was ge­ nau etwa einen Offspace charakterisiert und was ihn zu einer Alternative zu den etablierten Insti­ tutionen macht, ist ein ständiger Aushandlungsprozess.

Trotz ausgewogener Besetzung entwickelte sich an diesem Abend kaum ein lebhaftes Gespräch und auch der für Witness Seminare typisch offene,

durchaus assoziative Erinnerungsraum entstand nicht wirklich. Die Runde machte aber deutlich, dass in Bezug auf die künstlerische Selbstorgani­ sation in der Schweiz durchaus von einer Bewe­ gung gesprochen werden kann, zu der sich Leute über Jahrzehnte hinweg zugehörig und verbunden fühlten, auch wenn man sich in vielerlei Hinsicht nicht immer einig war. Die Uneinigkeit hängt wohl damit zusammen, dass die Selbstorganisation meist stark mit der individuellen Biografie, einzel­ nen Räumen und Projekten verknüpft ist. Diese spezifische Sichtweise ermöglichte es uns, punk­ tuell Unterschiede im jeweiligen Selbstverständ­ nis und Habitus sowie zeitlich spezifische Bedin­ gungen zu verstehen. Genau diese Spannung zwi­ schen Zugehörigkeitsgefühl zu einer Bewegung und enorm individuell geprägtem Selbstverständ­ nis ist eine für den weiteren Forschungsverlauf ausgesprochen produktive Erkenntnis, die ohne dieses spezifische Gesprächsformat nicht greifbar geworden wäre.

Der Workshop – partizipative Forschung

Der Workshop am zweiten Tag adressierte eine klar festgelegte Zielgruppe: die BetreiberInnen selbstorganisierter Räume. Diese meldeten sich vorgängig auf Einladung an. Die Gruppe bestand fast ausschliesslich aus heute in selbstorganisier­ ten Projekten aktiven Personen und einigen weni­ gen ehemals Aktiven. Zeitungsartikel, Dokumente, Publikationen und diverse weitere von uns zusam­ mengestellte Quellenmaterialien waren Ausgangs­ punkt für die Diskussion. Entlang der Stichworte Produzieren/Kuratieren, soziale Praxis, Kulturpolitik und Opposition arrangierten wir das Material in kleinen Ausstellungsinseln. Damit gaben wir den Teilnehmenden Einblick in einige unserer bisheri­ gen Archivfundstücke und vermittelten durch die Stichworte auch unsere thematischen Fokussie­ rungen, die Teil unserer abschliessenden Publika­ tion werden sollte. Mit kurzen Statements stellte jemand aus unserem Team die jeweiligen Stich­ worte vor. Dazu wurde eine Auswahl von Doku­ menten der entsprechenden Ausstellungsinsel präsentiert und beschrieben, aber nicht gedeutet.

Die Statements und die Dokumente bildeten den Ausgangspunkt für die anschliessende Diskussion, in der wir aktuelle Informationen sammeln und Einschätzungen zu den thematischen Setzungen einholen wollten. Der auf diese Weise angeregte und geleitete mündliche Austausch war – auch in den Pausen – ausgesprochen rege, und wurde von allen sehr geschätzt. Wir stiessen damit offen­ sichtlich auf ein Bedürfnis gegenwärtiger Betrei­ berInnen: das Format des eingeführten und gelei­ teten Workshops entsprach ihren Gewohnheiten, was zu einer äusserst produktiven und engagier­ ten Kommunikation führte. So liessen sich aus den

Diskussionen auch für unser Forschungsvorhaben Erkenntnisse ableiten, die aus den Archivmateria­ lien oder den bereits geführten Einzelinterviews nicht zu holen gewesen wären.

Bei der Ausstellungsinsel Produzieren/Kuratieren etwa wurde deutlich, dass das Kuratieren in selbstorganisierten Projekten durchaus absichtlich wenig professionalisiert und viel eher im Sinne eines ganzheitlichen begleitenden Organisierens zu verstehen ist. Diese Art des Kuratierens ist nicht durch eine individuelle Autorschaft geprägt, son­ dern vielmehr Ergebnis eines kollaborativ ange­ legten, organisatorischen Prozesses in all seinen Nuancen und pragmatischen Ausprägungen. Dazu gehört das Putzen der Toiletten ebenso wie das Schreiben von Texten, die Organisation von Trans­ porten oder das Betreiben der Bar an der Vernis­ sage. Ein solches Verständnis von Kuratieren be­ tont den Produktionsaspekt und das Organisieren wird zu einem sozialen Prozess. Daneben existie­ ren auch eher gängige Vorstellungen des Kuratie­ rens. Einige BetreiberInnen haben den Anspruch, professionelle Standards zu erfüllen und operieren entsprechend mit etablierten Vermittlungsforma­ ten wie etwa einführenden Saaltexten.

Der Begriff der sozialen Praxis umfasst verschie­ dene Phänomene. Die interne, zumeist kollabora­ tiv und dialogisch angelegte Organisationsform solcher Projekte wie das Kuratieren gehört dazu.

Aber auch die Tatsache, dass in einigen Kunst­ räumen das soziale Treffen zu einem zentralen Mo­ ment geworden ist und dieses zuweilen sogar das Format der Ausstellung gänzlich ablöste. Bewusst und konsequent wurde eine Neukonfiguration von Publikum, BetreiberInnen und Ausstellenden ver­ sucht. Die Anwesenden werden zu Ko-Produzent­ Innen und soziale Formate wie etwa Party, zusam­ men essen, Diskussionsrunden, Do it yourself Workshops sind konstitutive Momente der Initia­ tiven. Die zentrale Funktion sozialer Momente schien für die meisten eine Selbstverständlichkeit, denn ohne ein unterstützendes, soziales Netzwerk sei es in den finanziell prekären Bedingungen kaum möglich etwas zu machen.

Zum Schluss

Ein vergleichbarer Einbezug von involvierten Inte­ ressengruppen gab es bereits im Herbst 2016. Zu­ sammen mit der Kulturabteilung der Stadt Basel organisierten wir die Veranstaltung Off-Space, Projektraum, unabhängiger Kunstort. Chancen und Herausforderungen für Kulturpolitik und Kulturförderung, die aus einer öffentlichen Abendveranstal­ tung, sowie aus einem geschlossenen Workshop bestand. Dieser richtete sich an die private und öffentliche Kulturförderung, die im Bereich selbstorganisierter Kunsträume aktiv ist. In kurzen Inputs präsentierten wir unsere Forschungsinteressen, berichteten von möglichen Spannungsfeldern,

etwa hinsichtlich der Frage, ob und welche quan­ titativen Erhebungen wir unternehmen sollten.

Auch schilderten wir unsere theoretischen Über­ legungen hinsichtlich der schwierigen Definition dieses Phänomens. Nach diesem Auftakt folgten vertiefte Diskussionen in Kleingruppen. Hier holten wir uns Rückmeldung zu unseren Präsentationen und klärten den möglichen Wissensbedarf von­ seiten der Kulturförderung. Die daraus entstande­ ne Sammlung an Äusserungen zeigte sehr unter­ schiedliche Tendenzen und wir wurden mehrfach überrascht. So wünschten zahlreiche Förderstel­ len, vor allem in kleineren Kantonen und ländlichen Gebieten, mehr solche selbstorganisierte Kunst­ initiativen, während aus der Szene selbst häufig ein Mangel an Unterstützung beklagt wurde. Auch erstaunlich schien uns, dass insbesondere priva­ te Stiftungen wie Nestlé oder die Merian Stiftung in Basel einen durchaus proaktiven Umgang mit diesem Förderbereich zeigen und über entspre­ chend ausdifferenzierte Instrumente verfügen. Die im Rahmen des Forschungsprojektes zuvor geleis­ tete Recherchearbeit erfuhr durch diese Veran­ staltung eine Erweiterung und es entstand ein dif­ ferenziertes, und teilweise unerwartetes Bild der Fördersituation im Bereich der selbstorganisierten Kunsträume in der Schweiz.

Ein ähnliches Ergebnis versprachen wir uns auch vom gezielten Austausch mit den AkteurIn­ nen aus der selbstorganisierten Kunstszene im Rahmen der Veranstaltung Anerkennung jetzt!

Bloss wofür?. Die separate Adressierung von Kul­ turförderung und selbstorganisierter Kunstszene mittels zweier voneinander unabhängigen Veran­ staltungen war durchaus produktiv. Sie begüns­ tigte einen ungezwungenen Austausch und ermög­ lichte es, die von der jeweiligen Interessengruppe geführten Diskussionen ohne polarisierende Ge­ genüberstellung anzugehen.

Auf den ersten Blick erfüllten die von uns ge­ wählten Formate die Erwartungen an eine gängige, wissenschaftliche Veranstaltung. Es gab keine «kreativen Unterbrechungen», die Grenzen zu künstlerischen und nicht-diskursiven Vorgehens­ weisen ausloteten.2 Neben den kommunikativen und vermittelnden Aspekten war eines unserer zentralen Anliegen dieser Veranstaltung, im Aus­ tausch mit den Beteiligten unsere vorläufigen Thesen weiter zu schärfen und sie für unsere For­ schung produktiv zu machen. Die verschiedenen Formate verlangten allerdings von den Teilneh­ menden und von uns OrganisatorInnen unter­ schiedliche Formen des Auftretens, Moderierens und Mitmachens. Für die Teilnehmenden am Work­ shop, die mehrheitlich aus der selbstorganisierten Kunstszene kamen, führte unser Rollentausch bisweilen zu Verwirrung, was sich entsprechend in der Forderung nach einer strukturierten Ge­ sprächsführung äusserte. Einzelne Stimmen aus

dem Publikum bemängelten zudem einen fehlen­ den Zusammenhang der Konferenzvorträge mit dem übergeordneten Veranstaltungsthema. Dies vor allem deshalb, weil die ReferentInnen sich nicht direkt auf die Schweizer Situation bezogen, sondern die Leitfragen anhand eines internatio­ nalen Kontextes diskutierten und das Phänomen der künstlerischen Selbstorganisation zuweilen auch in einen reflexiven Bezug zu ihrem eigenen Werdegang stellten.

An diesen Konstellationen rieb sich die Veran­ staltung: Unsere Absicht, die Veranstaltung in den Forschungsprozess einzubauen und unsere aktu­ ellen Forschungsfragen zur Grundlage des Ta­ gungsablaufs zu machen, ist aus der Perspektive der Forschung stimmig gedacht. Doch war dieser Ansatz nicht einfach zu kommunizieren. Der An­ spruch nach Austausch und gemeinsamer Ent­ wicklung von Fragen und Perspektiven stand in einem Spannungsverhältnis zum repräsentativen Format der Veranstaltung, während letzteres ge­ rade den Rahmen schaffte, um diese Spannung wahrnehmbar zu machen. In solch paradox anmu­ tenden Settings befinden sich auch selbstorgani­ sierte Initiativen häufig, etwa wenn sie beabsich­ tigen für ihre Aktivitäten Fördermittel einzuholen und sie dafür ihr Tun in einen vorgeformten Krite­ rienkatalog einzupassen haben.

1 Über diese Frage wurde im Anschluss an die Tagung in einer neuen Konstellation weiter diskutiert. Siehe dazu: Gioia Dal Molin, Marc Hunziker, Chantal Kaufmann, Jérôme Massard und Pablo Müller, «Is Nestlé money evil? », in: Brand-New-Life, 9.10.2017, http://brand-new-life. org/b-n-l/is-nestle-money-evil/ (aufgerufen am 12. Dezember 2017).

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2 Siehe zu solchen Vorgehensweisen u. a. Artistic Research in Applied Arts, hrsg. von Gabriele Schmid und Peter Sinapius, Hamburg 2015, http://www.hksottersberg.de/ media/dokumente/downloads/ GabrieleSchmidPeterSinapius_ ArtisticResearchinAppliedArts_ Leseprobe.pdf (aufgerufen am 24. Oktober 2017).

Materialität @hslu

Text Legenden: Isabel Rosa Müggler Zumstein (Hochschule Luzern – Design & Kunst), Dieter Geissbühler (Hochschule Luzern – Technik & Architektur) Fotos: Olivia Sasse (Alumna BA Camera Arts) In Zusammenarbeit mit: blgp Architekten (Hochdorf), BWS-Labor (Winterthur), Gagat international (Aachen), Gerold Ulrich (Satteins), Material-Archiv, MVM AG mein maler mein gipser (Emmen), Sarna-Granol (Sarnen)

Auf der Themenplattform Materialität@hslu bearbeiten Forschende und Lehrende der Departemente Design & Kunst sowie Technik & Architektur Bezüge zwischen Material, Produktion und Entwurf. Diese Auseinandersetzung wird im Rahmen von interdisziplinären Forschungsprojekten mit Firmen der Region Zentralschweiz geführt.

Es ist ein Anliegen der Themenplattform, Konzepte und Erkenntnisse aus der Arbeit mit Material zu teilen und innerhalb wie auch ausserhalb der Hochschule Luzern zu vermitteln.

Die erste öffentliche Veranstaltung von Materialität@ hslu war ein Workshop zum Thema Verputz für Forschende, Lehrende, Studierende und Professionals in den Berufs­ feldern Bau, Malerei & Gips, Architektur, Innenarchitektur, Denkmalpflege und Design. Die Teilnehmenden lernten, angeleitet durch Fachpersonen, die Charakteristiken von Verputz auf experimentelle Weise kennen und machten individuell Erfahrungen mit Werkzeugen und Materialien.

Anhand einer Auslegeordnung der entstandenen Muster wurde anschliessend das Designpotential von Verputz diskutiert. In diesem Workshop wurde bewusst gemacht, wie der physische Umgang mit Material den Blick öffnet für entscheidende Material- und Prozessqualitäten. Diese Erfahrung wiederum sensibilisiert die Wahrnehmung für die gestalterische Diversität von Architekturoberflächen.

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Herstellung von gelöschtem Kalk, Kalkglätte und Sumpfkalk in der 3D-Werkstatt

S. 38/39 Zerbröckelter Sumpfkalk, nachdem er unter Anleitung gelöscht wurde.

S. 40/41 Erste Verputzschicht auf Musterplatten.

S. 42/43 Anrühren von Materialmischungen.

S. 44/45 Pigmente und Kiesel in feuchten Putz einarbeiten.

Dynamische Vorbereitungen und Verarbeitungen von Verputz auf vertikale Flächen in der 3D-Werkstatt

Bildgruppe S. 46/47 ↖ Wormserputz und Versuche mit dem Rotationswerkzeug Wormser. ↙ Bearbeitung der Verputzoberfläche. ↗ Einfärben von Verputz mit Kohlepigmenten.

Experimentelle Materialkombinationen und Strukturoberflächen

Bildgruppe S. 48/49 ↖ Epoxydharz mit Zuschlägen. ↙ Experimente mit unterschiedlichen Zusätzen und Epoxydharzbinder. ↗ Epoxydharz mit Zuschlag. ↘ Strukturwerkzeug.

↘ Freie Stempeltechnik in der vertikalen Bearbeitung.

Werkzeuge für die Modellierung von Stuck und Beobachtungen von LichtSchatten-Malereien

S. 50/51 Werkzeuge des traditionellen Stuckateurs Giovanni Nicoli.

S. 52/53 Zeichnungen mit Kohle und Rötel zur Beobachtung von Licht-Schatten Malereien.

S. 54/55 ↖ Schablonierversuche in Ölsand. ↙ Bearbeitung von Stuckmotiven. ↗ Stuckmotiv eines Workshop-Teilnehmers.

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Design & Management

1 The symposium received support from the scientific exchange program of the Swiss National Science Foundation.

«This is a discovery conference: a conference that brings together an eclectic group of people around a topic to discover the connections, relationships, and interpretations of a theme.» This was how keynote speaker Richard Buchanan from the Weatherhead School of Management summarized the first day of the International Symposium on Design in the Organization.1 140 years on from the first design education initiatives in Lucerne, the Compe­ tence Center Design & Management invited designers, managers, scholars, researchers, and students to examine the role, place, and contribution of design to business, the public sector, and society in times of commotion and disruption. When people start to focus on laying new foundations for economic innovation – foundations that account for the needs of society and the individual – design moves center stage. It is no coincidence that the Bauhaus offered rigorous design education among the uncertainties of the Weimar Republic, nor that the Ulm School of Design forged new possibilities for the future in the aftermath of the Nazi regime. When nothing seems quite what it was and when the status quo is no longer tenable, the ways in which we conceive, plan, develop, and deliver new paths into the unknown acquire new signifi­ cance. Research by the Design & Management research group supports private and public organizations in their effort to advance their internal design capabilities. Guided by human-centered design principles, researchers employ design thinking, design processes, and design methods to innovate systems, services, and other products around people.

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Not Your Usual Kind of Design How Design Introduces Organizations to New Ways of Working, Thinking, and Planning

Hans Kaspar Hugentobler, Catalina Jossen Cardozo, Sabine Junginger, Bettina Minder, Claudia Ramseier, Dagmar Steffen

«To design is to manage risks,» observes Richard Buchanan. Is the age of organizational uncertainty also the age of design? The aim of the Inter­national Symposium on Design in the Organization was to bring together people concerned with today’s design challenges involving products, services, and organizations. They identified common issues and explored questions central to these objectives making use of design research methods and a design process. The design process began on day one with four brief keynotes and four brief panel conversations that introduced four differ­ ent fields of design research in the organization: design education & design research; design in government; user research and user experience; and finally the designer as organizer and entre­ preneur. In two breakout sessions led by the mem­ bers of the Design & Management research group, participants, keynote speakers, and panelists reflected on the keynotes and panels to develop questions for the workshop session the next day.

This approach led to five very different workshops on day two, each demonstrating a different design method and approach:

Workshop 1: How Does Design Cope with User Experience Data, Information, and Evidence?1

In human-centered design, data gathering through user research is an essential part of a design inquiry. The key terms in this context are data, information, and evidence. But what actually con­ stitutes data? When and how does data represent or become information? And what counts as valid evidence? These are questions looked into by a service designer from the healthcare field, a social scientist, an early career designer, a social anthropologist, and one of Prof. Dr. Kaja ToomingBuchanan’s masters students from the Lucerne School of Art and Design.

Since user research takes personal experience as its starting point, the group turned to John Dewey’s concept of experience to inform their inquiry. Dewey distinguishes three different qual­ ities of «an» experience: an emotional quality, which Dewey links to aesthetics; an intellectual quality, which he identified with signs and sym­ bols; and practical experience or «overt doings».2

For Dewey, emotional experience cannot be seen in isolation because a user’s experience includes various interactions with people, the environment, and with objects. A common question is how to measure experiences, and here the measurement of emotions continues to present an insoluble problem. At present it is only possible to collect data on the physical sensations related to emo­ tions, like heartbeats or brainwaves. But there are many unknowns between the measurement of a heartbeat or a brainwave and understanding of the precise emotion attached to it. Furthermore, this kind of analysis requires measurement of the impact of an action. Empirical observation of feel­ ings is still impossible because feelings are sub­ jective, individual, and immaterial. But what would happen if it were possible to measure emotions and feelings?

Our discussion concluded with a provocative statement from one participant: «If we can meas­ ure the impact of emotion on data, we might be able to filter this impact out of the data set. This might lead to different, enhanced, reliable data and would influence all aspects of society.»

For the time being this seems impossible. But what if it were a possibility? Why would we want to extract the emotional aspects from data, from the facts? And if we had the tools to do so, would the outcomes be more factual, evidence-based, and reliable? What are the social implications of this possibility, for better or for worse? How do we perceive the risks? In other words: would a world in which data can be separated and isolated from emotional and aesthetic considerations produce better products and services? Would it provide more humane living conditions? These questions remained open.

designers? What are designers’ responsibilities to organizations? How has the role of the designer changed since designers first became involved in business and organization, and what can we expect in the future? How do designers see them­ selves and how do these two perspectives line up?

A first brainstorming session produced more than sixty questions that the team then organized and grouped to identify topics and themes. First findings revealed that designers usually have a hard time explaining their role to others in a precise and concise way; that there is limited recognition and knowledge of extended design practices where designers consult on innovative processes and methods; and that often the designer’s role is not effectively communicated to the broader com­ munity. In a second step, the team wanted to find out how their own picture of the designer corre­ sponded to external perspectives on the profession.

Each of the seven group members approached ran­ dom people in the street to collect answers to one specific question raised in the workshop. The com­ parison between internal and external perception revealed a huge gap. Almost none of the more sophisticated descriptions that emerged in the workshop were mentioned by people on the street.

Most people tended to associate design with «products» more than anything. They also had a limited view of the role of the designer and reduced this to making things beautiful in connection with physical objects and spaces. In organizational terms this puts designers on a tactical level. But according to John Kolko, the popularity of «design thinking» and calls for «innovation» have encour­ aged many organizations to ask designers to par­ ticipate in their strategic conversations – from stra­ tegic product roadmapping and revenue genera­ tion to possible partnerships.4 For designers this presents an opportunity to work on the strategic level, filling a strategic role in planning. Here they do not apply their ability to think and analyze to the tactical problems of production and consumption.

The question now is, what will it take to estab­ lish such an extended design practice – one that works outside the commonly accepted field of design – and close the gap between the public and professional perceptions of design? Will designers achieve this by setting an example of best practice, by building up a track record of extended design projects, or both? Will design research be able to support these efforts when most funding oppor­ tunities assume that design operates on the tac­ tical and not the strategic level?

Workshop 2: Gaps in the Internal and External Perception of Design & Designers3

We know what designers did when this school was founded 140 years ago but it is far from clear what designers might do 140 years from now. This col­ laborative workshop employed brainstorming and user-research methods to examine changes in the role of the designer and the implications this has for practitioners. This group included a design student, a design researcher and activist, and a designer with her own studio who lectures in the Design Management International program at the Lucerne University of Applied Sciences and Arts.

Led by Catalina Jossen Cardozo, an SNF Bridge Recipient at the Lucerne School of Art and Design, this group challenged the role of the designer in the organizational context. What expectations and demands do organizations have when it comes to the skills, knowledge, and capabilities of today’s

Workshop 3: Inquiring into Risks, Ethics, & Principles Using Concept Maps5

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This workshop explored three terms that are essen­ tial to human-centered design: risks, ethics and

principles. More specifically, this workshop group, consisting of two students from the Design Man­ agement International and the Master of Arts in Design program, a design activist, and two lec­ turers from the Glasgow School of Art and the Lucerne School of Art & Design, inquired into the risks, ethics, and principles associated with design.

It emerged that risks in design concern questions of «what», as in «What are the risks of designing and its outcomes?» While questions related to ethics in design address «the how»: «How shall we take a decision in order to achieve ethical or responsible outcomes?» Principles, by contrast, are linked to philosophical foundations, theories, and assumptions that become the driving force for «why» we design in the first place: «For the good of whom do we design at all?» or «Why do we take an action to achieve something?»

As a methodological approach for investigating the scope of these terms or notions, this group employed concept mapping. Using this method, participants explored the chain of associations and plurality of meanings that each term triggers in the individual. Some of these individual associ­ ations and meanings were potentially contentious, but judgment was withheld to allow the concept map to develop richness and depth. Likewise, in this first round (also referred to as the first vintage; a first harvest of meanings and associations) inter­ pretation was not desired. What might be good or bad, right or wrong, was of no interest at this stage. What the team sought to achieve was a clarification of the key concepts attached to each term. The inquiry took place incrementally: each term was addressed and worked on independently of the other two terms. The group chose to start with the «what», i.e. by looking into design. Only after completing this concept map did it move on to examine the «how» of ethics. Once ethics had been sufficiently explored, the group developed the third concept map around principles to arrive at reasons, intents, causes, and other connotations of why we engage in design activities.

This methodological exercise produced concept maps (fig. 1) showing the initial term circled at the center and surrounded by a plurality of issues and concepts associated with it by the team. In this «first vintage» the terms are randomly positioned and not (yet) arranged in any hierarchical or mean­ ingful order. Still, each concept map suggests top­ ics that have been neglected for some time in the field of design. As such, each concept map will serve as a resource for deeper exploration, dis­ cussion, and debate, generating and identifying important areas for future design research.

Here is one example taken from the concept map on risk: if we take into account that designers face choices between various alternatives and have to make decisions, this means that designers

inevitably have to deal with risks; they risk unin­ tended consequences – for better or for worse.

They put themselves at risk of failing, but they are also at «risk» of achieving success. A successful and popular design can be risky because success can turn into its opposite; high levels of demand for a product can lead to serious supply issues and ruin the business. Such success might also lead to complacency or a narrow point of view, so that the company neglects long-term investment in research and development and falls behind its competitors. So design itself is a form of risk man­ agement, and yet there is no design literature on the risks that designers face.

When one concept map is seen in conjunction with a second or third concept map, new insights can be generated. Putting the ethics concept map alongside the risk concept map allows for an exploration of risk management. If the claim is that design is an ethical practice, questions arise about how we make decisions and how we cope with judgment. In short: what are design ethics based on? This opens the door to reflective dis­ cussions on values, norms, beliefs, responsibility, morality, integrity, and legitimacy. It soon emerges that the meaning of value can range from aes­ thetic, economic, organizational, social, or indi­ vidual values while the integrity of a product may refer to its functional or its material integrity, its production or the integrity of a product-related experience. Concept mapping here serves as a means of discovering various aspects, elements and meanings of a concept; making the concept visible and withholding both judgment and inter­ pretation can open up a space for people with different views to examine and reconsider their views together.

This became particularly clear during work on the third concept map, on principles. Articulating underlying principles was a significantly more difficult task than discussing ethics and risks.

Principles imply notions of justice, self-realization, independence, the golden rule of reciprocity («do as you would be done by»), utilitarianism («the greatest happiness principle»), pluralism, etc.

These notions call for discussion and debate, first within the discipline of design, since designers have long ignored the fact that there are principles behind their work, but then also among the public at large, as a way of coming to terms with the numerous risks and disruptive forces that are at work today.

Workshop 4: New Design Education6

Design education is the foundation of both the practice of design and research on design.

Approaching the theme of «design in the organi­ zation» from the educational perspective points

design. Here, disciplines and skills (i.e. technical training) are subordinated to the needs of supradisciplinary problems. Thematic education is a fourth educational principle in design. Themes combine competencies, techniques and disci­ plines.

How, when, and why does design education move from, say, a skills-based discipline to a dis­ cipline based on competences and themes? Is integrative design a skill, a competence, or a theme? Are we at a point in time when organiza­ tions recognize design as a core competence?

Does this suggest a form of transversal design education that ought to be taught to all students everywhere, like mathematics or art? Expanding on this idea, what sort of role does this imply for the design schools of today, the Lucerne School of Design and Art, for example? In this respect, design education finds itself in a bind; the market demands specific design skills but rarely overall design competencies. At the same time, the skillsbased educational principle becomes problematic when the skills required change significantly over time – as has happened in design. Many organi­ zations now ask for design thinkers or service designers who are capable of conducting user research, but many young design professionals are not educated or trained in these areas. This also has implications for design schools, which are increasingly expected to offer life-long learn­ ing programs and ongoing skill development.

For this group, conversation and visualization took the form of a four phase process captured on four wall panels. Panel 1 captured the results of the brainstorming session; Panel 2 emerged from the conversation about the complaints and prob­ lems with the status-quo; Panel 3 captured the development of individual diagrams and critical engagement with theories of I-shaped, T-shaped, and Y-shaped graduates in design.7 Panel 4 showed the culmination of these inquiries and the two new models of design education envisaged by the group: one model focuses on roles, the other focuses on future-oriented processes.

→ Fig. 1 One of the concept maps developed during Workshop 3 shows the risks designers are facing both through their action and their inaction. The map allows for new connections and new questions that design researchers can pursue.

to at least two core areas of inquiry. A first area of investigation begins with public and private-sector organizations understanding their design-related issues and needs in order to identify the skills and knowledge they will require from future designers.

A second area examines the implications of these skill and knowledge profiles on an institutional level.

The working group on New Design Education brought together the director of the Master in Design program at the Lucerne School of Art and Design, a student on the bachelor program Design Management International, a student on the Mas­ ter of Arts in Design, and a visiting doctoral student to explore and discuss key issues with Professor Xin Xianyiang, former Dean and now Professor of Design at the School of Design, Jiangnan University.

This group started with a collective brainstorm­ ing session: group members’ individual thoughts on design education were gathered together on a collective poster; perceived problems with the current educational situation were then added.

Revisiting earlier design programs, most of which were developed in times of change and upheaval, the group identified four principles that drive design education. The first principle is based on design disciplines. Educational efforts are framed by discipline: graphic design, product design, and service design, for example. The second principle builds education around skills and skill develop­ ment. Competences and competence develop­ ment constitute the third educational principle in

Workshop 5: Problem Framing8

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Design research and design practice are in­creas­ ingly concerned with problem framing.9 For Enrique Martinez (Director of Design at The Lab, a design institute at the US Office of Personnel Management in Washington, DC), the ability to frame and reframe problems is central to working as a design educator in the public sector. He explained that when a problem occurs, most people are quick to point to a solution. In his experience, people arrive at a problem statement («this is the problem») and from there move directly to a solu­ tion («this is the solution we are going to develop»).

The problem with this problem–solution relation­ ship is that it does not allow for prototyping of different ideas or leave room for exploration and experimentation. This imposes limits on innova­ tion because the focus of the solution is on the speed at which it can be implemented under exist­ ing conditions. In this relationship, «the problem» rarely represents «the» problem. Too often, such a problem is merely the symptom of a root cause that remains hidden and therefore unaddressed.

But how can this anti-innovation trap be avoided?

The tendency for people to frame something is usually based on a first spark, not a «right» or «best» framing. To arrive at the latter, one needs to generate various framing possibilities. To demon­ strate how one might go about this, Martinez asked each workshop participant to produce two dia­ grams: one diagram visualizing a simple problem and a second diagram visualizing a complex prob­ lem. In the subsequent reflection, he explained how The Lab uses diagramming to approach the same task: the line between problem and solution is drawn either as a thin line (for simple problem­ atics) or as a thick line (for complex problematics).

While the thin line for simple problems assumes that we possess most or all the knowledge and information needed to move from a problem to a solution, this is not the case for complex problems.

The thick line suggests that we are dealing with a problem space that can be opened up to reveal new problem-framing possibilities. The line now no longer represents a line but instead denotes a design space; a space between a problem and its solution that can be explored to generate novel solution possibilities through experimentation and prototyping. In this design space we find con­ text, factors, and circumstances that allow mul­ tiple approaches to framing the problem under investigation. Each frame may serve as a stepping stone toward a portfolio of multiple solutions, which Martinez referred to as «monumental prob­ lematics».

These ideas were elaborated in a second round of diagramming that took wedding planning as a concrete problem for solving. The group developed an issue map, clustering issues into the categories of «Can be controlled,» «Can’t be controlled» and a gray area in between called «May be controlla­ ble» as framing modes. One possible question that arises is: What are the potentially shared priori­ ties? Interlinked wedding planning issues such as culture, religion, catering, and so on can then become a basis for creating consensus on one or more specific framings of the problems posed by wedding planning. Conventional wisdom says that an initial frame for marriage – when seen as a sim­ ple problem – is love. However, when marriage is conceived as a complex problem – diagrammed as a thick space between problem and solution –

it can be seen as including issues such as culture, money, status, religion, and so on.

A good way for the team to arrive at a shared perspective and to reframe marriage as a problem was to consider and debate different facts, biases, and assumptions about marriage as a cultural question. To deepen the skilling exercise, the next challenge for participants of the workshop was to develop individual models with problem-framing mechanisms. The result was a collection of seven variously structured diagrams, some of them pro­ cedural, others circular, and one depicting a con­ tinuum between concrete and abstract.

1 Workshop 1 with Prof. Dr. Kaja Buchanan (reported by Claudia Ramseier).

2 Dewey explains this concept in his seminal book Art as Experience, New York 1929, which has become a keystone of the literature on human-centered design and user experience. It is of great relevance to service design.

3 Workshop 2 with Catalina Jossen Cardozo (reported by Bettina Minder).

4 Jon Kolko, Exposing the Magic of Design, Oxford / New York 2011.

5 Workshop 3 with Prof. Dr. Richard Buchanan (reported by Dagmar Steffen).

6 Workshop 4 with Prof. Dr. Xin Xianyiang (reported by Andrea Augsten).

7 See Morten T. Hansen and Bolko von Oetinger, «Introducing T-Shaped Managers: Knowledge Management’s Next Generation», in: Harvard Business Review (2001); see also Andy Boynton and William Boyle, «Are You an ‹I› or a ‹T›?», 18 October 2011, https://www. forbes.com/sites/andyboynton/ 2011/10/18/are-you-an-i-or-a-t/ #fb8c2b06e888 (retrieved 12 Feb­ruary 2018).

8 Workshop 5 with Enrique Martinez (reported by Hans Kaspar Hugentobler and Sabine Junginger).

9 Kees Dorst, Frame Innovation: Create New Thinking by Design, Cambridge, MA, 2015.

Design in the Organization Summary of Initial Findings and Research Outlook Sabine Junginger

One of several aims of the International Sympo­ sium on Design in the Organization was to provide a hands-on demonstration of how design research, design methodology, and design processes may support organizational change and organizational transformation. Though many people think of design as addressing a problem, this exploratory conference serves as evidence that design research starts long before a problem has been or can be articulated. Each keynote speaker, each panelist, and each participant joined in a collabo­ rative effort to produce an initial overview, a kind of land-scape of the issues and questions emerging from current design research and design practice in the context of organizations. I will briefly sum­ marize some of these initial findings and provide an outlook of future design research in this area.

Design, Change, Organizing, Managing: People and Making

Design is inseparable from change. Change is inseparable from organizing. Organizing is insep­ arable from managing.1 Managing frames the way we go about designing and therefore how

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we approach change. These relationships were revealed in the symposium presentations and they dominated the workshops. Yet, they are not always obvious to the people engaged in one of the four activities under discussion here. For exam­ ple, few managers think of decision-making as part of a broader design process. For far too long, the development of procedures and services in the public sector has been deemed outside the domain of design. When we are trying to understand risk, however, the intrinsic relationship between design, management, and change becomes evident. Care­ ful risk management remains one of the most important tasks for people, regardless of their posi­ tion in life. When we design, we risk change – for better or worse. Or, to use Richard Buchanan’s words: «Design is risk management.»

This notion of design is neither well understood nor fully examined. Business managers do refer to risks when they talk about new designs, but all too often they think of design itself as the risk. Design­ ing is «risky.» And yet the outcome of the sympo­ sium suggests that design is actually a means of identifying, assessing, and reducing risks. In fact,

participants employed design methods and, in par­ ticular, human-centered design approaches to highlight and explore a range of potential risks: in the public sector, in design education, in entrepre­ neurship, in designing services, in working with people. As one group put it, the task of the designer is to «maintain space for change,» to «produce problem-solving architectures» and to «construct narratives together.»

The terms we use and the ways we use them became major points of discussion. We need to be as precise as possible, tightening the context as best as we can to allow for debate and argu­ ment. This points to one of the hallmarks of design: its focus on the specifics of a particular situation for a certain person as opposed to the abstractions and generalizations that serve other sciences and their respective purposes – but not so much when they seek to conceive, develop, plan, and deliver something people can find meaningful, compre­ hensible, and useful.

Some people are already starting to refer to a shift from the information age to the design age.

This may well be an acknowledgement of the fact that moving from uncertainties to risks requires people to take action. The mere fact that people are sitting around a table does not mean that those people are collaborating. To engage with each other, to debate with one another, and to commit to action requires a starting point to build from and

↑ Throughout the two day symposium, participants engaged with and challenged each other through discussions and presentations.

a vision of where to go. Though it is unlikely that everyone will see the same things in the same complex problem, it is here that collaboration may prove most valuable: when it allows us to discover what we do have in common.

How Applied Design Research Works on Organizational Problems

The findings of the first International Symposium on Design in the Organization points to a need and an opportunity for research projects on risks, design, and principles. Such design research, however, falls foul of current funding structures, which conceive of applied research in a narrow sense. According to this narrow definition, applied design research is tied to technical developments and consumer goods; it is at best a client service.

Looking at the various funding opportunities for design research, the unavoidable impression is that design is stuck in the industrial age.

The insistence on applied research in this nar­ row sense increasingly prevents design research­ ers and design practitioners from advancing design when organizations call on them to help

change the way they go about their businesses. In China we see significant investment in doctoral research at a time when Chinese industry is mov­ ing from imitation and execution to invention and innovation. Human-centered design may seem like an oxymoron from the political field, but it has become a central feature of highly sophisticated design research programs at leading Chinese uni­ versities. With that, small and medium-sized enter­ prises in China are pursuing a radically different notion of design in the organization than those that continue to dominate in Switzerland and Germany.

This is one of the findings of the first International Symposium on Design in the Organization held at the Lucerne School of Art and Design.

Echoing developments in China, there is a strik­ ingly different notion of design presently advanc­ ing in the public sector. Design is becoming part of the vocabulary in the public sector; whether at the World Bank, the International Development Bank, or the International Monetary Fund; the Ministry of Planning, Budget and Development in Brazil, or at the US Office of Personnel Manage­ ment. In a sign that design practices are closely linked to design outcomes, these organizations are beginning to retrain their own staff with a focus on design skilling. At the heart of their efforts are the very issues that this symposium has identified as core to design in the organization: insights on user experience; clarifications concerning data; inquiries into what constitutes information for whom, and the ability to move from fixed problem statements to new ways of problem framing.

Today, applied design research often means advancing the design capabilities of others to invent and generate new possibilities and new paths for action in problematic situations.

Human-centered design acts in this space by employing a plurality of methods, several of which were evident at the symposium. These design methods, as the emergent design process also showed, are not selected at random. From the welcome speech to the final workshop presenta­ tion, the symposium systematically inquired into the questions and issues surrounding design in the organization. Each keynote offered a different perspective, each panel a different insight and different information. The task for each breakout session was to articulate and narrow these ques­ tions and issues to allow for productive in-depth workshops. Communicated and presented as a research symposium, participants signed up to untitled workshops where responsibility for gen­ erating new knowledge and skills was on them as much as on the keynote speakers and panelists.

This – and this is key for design research – does not relegate results to accidental outcomes, even if the outcome – the product – cannot be known in the early stages of exploration.

Research Outlook

For the Competence Center Design & Manage­ ment, this symposium confirmed the need and the opportunity to pursue research projects with organizations interested in design beyond con­ sumer goods. We have already been able to initiate several follow-up studies that will advance our knowledge of how human-centered design already contributes to business innovation and social change. These involve further collaboration with the US Office of Personnel Management and with other public sector innovation labs such as the Swiss Staatslabor. Our efforts are not confined to the public sector. The key organizational problem of producing «things» of value and relevance to people in a sustainable way is a problem shared by all organizations.

1 See Sabine Junginger, Transforming Public Services by Design: Re-Orienting Policies, Organizations and Services around People, London 2017.

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Visual Narrative

The research group «Visual Narrative» at the Lucerne School of Art and Design focuses on contemporary prac­ tices in the field of audiovisual media, which has changed dramatically over the last two decades. Until recently, the amount of audiovisual technologies was manageable; channels of distribution were few; media and film schools taught their students a broadly accepted canon of crafts and skills. Graduates would work as self-employed film­ makers or photographers and as technicians, representa­ tives, and media developers. Those days are over. Digitization and distribution via the Internet and social media have proved a massive disruption to traditional struc­ tures. Young directors and media producers are defining new positions in an ever-shifting media ecology, con­ stantly facing the pressure to adapt to a wide array of technological, economical, and social changes. These shifts have had a huge impact on authorial agendas. Organized by the research group in view of its running projects on 360-degree cinema narration and «ultrashort» audiovisual formats, the 2017 conference «Display, Disruption, Disorder» focused on three main aspects of change in the field of audiovisual production and perception: new forms, new actors, and new places in a developing land­ scape of contemporary audiovisual media.

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Medium of the Future, Medium of the Now A Roundtable Discussion on Narration and Immersion in Advanced Cinema Technology and VR

Wolfgang Brßckle and Fred Truniger in conversation with Neal Hartman, Johan Knattrup Jensen, Florian Krautkrämer, Marco de Mutiis, and Alia Sheikh

The advent of immersive filmmaking practice fundamentally changes the media system and how we tell stories. So, what is the impact of VR and 360-degree filmmaking on the present and future of storytelling?

Wolfgang Brückle and Fred Truniger asked Neal Hartman (Director of the CineGlobe Film Festival at CERN, Geneva), filmmaker Johan Knattrup Jensen (Director of Macropol, Copenhagen), Florian Krautkrämer (Visiting Professor, Mainz University), Marco de Mutiis (Digital Curator, Fotomuseum Winterthur), and Alia Sheikh (Senior Development Producer, BBC Research & Development, Manchester) to share their thoughts in a panel discussion that took place on the occasion of the conference «Display, Disruption, Disorder: New Formats, Actors and Places in Audiovisual Media» at Lucerne University of Applied Sciences and Arts on 18 November 2017.

← Johan Knattrup Jensen, Skammerkrogen (The Doghouse), 2014 Jensen’s installation invites viewers to step into a virtual world for an immersive first-person film experience which, while absorbing the individual partici­pants, at the same time connects them with an interpersonal reality. They are invited to sit around a table wearing an Oculus Rift headset.

Each participant assumes the role of one of five family members at a dinner party so that each of them experiences the unfolding story about the first visit of the older son’s new girlfriend from a unique point of view.

The camera’s move­ments are complete­ly defined by the characters.

Wolfgang Brückle: Traditional TV appears to be doomed in the eyes of many experts, whose opinion is based on how little interest the medium generates among young audiences. At the same time, not only individual directors but also media corporations have in recent years started to embrace the possibilities of technically advanced filmmaking, and 360-degree cinema and VR seem to be a promising field for experiments today. The BBC’s production lab is active in the field; the CineGlobe Film Festival at CERN is encouraging experiments in the fields of both fiction and documentary; a team working at the Hochschule Luzern is currently cooperating with the Swiss Broadcasting Corporation SRG to enhance the quality of narrative 360-degree filmmaking. But it is not always clear whether these activities are driven by similar ambitions and dreams. Are we merely wit­ nessing a modern variation of the spectacles that panorama paintings once pre­ sented to an audience attracted by the lure of extreme realism? Or is this the rise of new ways of storytelling that bring unforeseen disruptions to what our senses used to consider the real, and that allow new forms of combining the fictional and the factual? You probably don’t want to see storytelling limited to traditional con­ cepts of literary narrative in our discursive context…

Fred Truniger: Actually, there is an undercurrent of dissatisfaction with the way storytelling functions in VR filmmaking, and we probably want to think about what we can hope to get in exchange for the disadvantages that VR filmmaking has in relation to traditional cinema. A general notion is that we have yet to understand what VR can actually achieve. Do you consider what you’re working on right now simply the beginning of a new practice and an apparatus that’s bound to change, and are you constantly envisioning what this change could be?

Florian Krautkrämer: Thinking about the present and the possible futures of this format has a lot to do with how we see our present and past media. We’re always comparing it to cinema. But what exactly is this cinema that we hold up in comparison to VR and 360-degree filmmaking? My impression is that when we contextualize VR and 360-degree filmmaking, we unnecessarily limit the discus­ sion to the paradigm of mainstream movies, where you offer the audience all the answers on a silver platter. Blockbuster cinema may be the most visible type of cinema, but it’s only a small part of the whole thing. We have the films of Lav Diaz, Lisandro Alonso, Chantal Akerman; we have cinema that raises more questions than it answers. Discussions about 360-degree filmmaking often revolve around how we can draw the attention of the audience to this or that detail just because we don’t want them to get frustrated in the act of watching. But I would like to suggest that we focus less on finding ways of how to satisfy the viewer’s desire to be guided through a linear narrative, and more on how we can grow a culture of higher frustration tolerance. We need to find ways to accept frustration, and from this starting point develop new questions and interests on the side of the spectators.

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Alia Sheikh: It is for two reasons that people associate the commercial block­ buster aspect with cinema at large: because it’s ubiquitous and because it makes money. I think that in the long run, VR and 360-degree cinema will let us have stories that were previously impossible, but while we have our heads stuck in reinventing the narratives we already have, we’re never going to get there. And yet a large part of my work is about teaching people how to use VR to tell the sto­ ries they usually tell, and what the new rules for directing attention are, even though there’s a possibility in VR to tell stories that may not need as tight a con­ trol of attention as cinema does. When I’m talking to people who come from the world of traditional film and TV formats, I can’t afford for them to get frustrated with the medium before they’ve been able to create something good. So, for me, it’s about giving them enough pointers and an understanding of how to approach it in terms of their usual subject matter, and then hoping someone will realize that «some of these things are new, and I couldn’t do them before.» Once people start thinking this way, things ping off in other directions, and then you find people are making things like Alice: the Virtual Reality Play – theatre experiences where you embody a persona and live actors embody the other characters. And that’s not cinema at all. So, while it’s maybe a bit of a shame that so many people rumi­ nate over how to create cinematic experiences in VR, they’re making a step on a journey to a better, more interesting place. We have to start somewhere, and it isn’t surprising that people often approach VR through the lens of familiar formats.

Neal Hartman: If you look back at the history of film, we basically had cinema for the first fifty years or so. Then we had cinema and TV, but no one would ever have proposed watching cinema and TV at the same time. That would have been completely absurd in the fifties or sixties. Now, however, we have the concept of second screen, which refers to the auxiliary content that can be created to accom­ pany a film. This phenomenon began with DVD extras, but has quickly come to mean content that will be consumed on a digital device such as a tablet or smart­ phone. We’re not talking about the film trailer here, but about content that is meant to be consumed as part of the viewing experience, perhaps not necessarily simul­ taneously, but sometimes even in unison with the original viewing. Especially with web video, in that you have multiple sources of content for the same core story, or the same project. Outside of gaming, we see the biggest commercial use of VR in the marketing of big films and online productions, like Stranger Things or Harry Potter, sometimes amounting to essentially amusement park applications. The question is whether VR will remain a marketing tool, which is akin to a second screen, or whether it will establish its own space as primary creative content. This last possibility is exciting because of its immersivity and the way VR excludes external stimulation. Perhaps it might even permit us to actually return to a more focused way of viewing.

Marco de Mutiis: There has been a desire to dissolve into the medium as early as in the ancient Pompeii frescos. At the same time, however, there’s a resistance to it. We keep inventing mediums that offer illusionistic experiences, but we also resist them, maybe because we fear being overwhelmed, and we fear losing con­ trol. This is one of the interesting dynamics of immersion, and is perhaps one of the reasons why we like to push it forward into the future: we’re not really com­ fortable about exacting it in the now.

Alia Sheikh: True as this may be, now is the time for us to do the thinking about what these new possibilities could be, because we have an opportunity to have an input into the technology that is invented. We’ve seen things come and go – we saw 3D rise and fall, and we’d had VR before, the Victorians had dioramas and stereoscopy and stereopticons… We already know that at the content creation side, we can produce complex, technologically advanced experiences, but at the consumer side, the most easily accessible 360-degree experiences are on You­ Tube or Facebook or cardboard phone headsets. At the moment, I can’t deliver to everyone in the home the kinds of personal headset-based experiences that we’re exploring, simply because unlike a TV set, the technology isn’t in everybody’s homes…

Wolfgang Brückle: Could you detail what this experience might possibly be?

And what, apart from the BBC’s incentive to keep pace with the development of visual devices TV can’t easily embrace, makes anybody’s private home the ideal place to share this kind of experience?

Alia Sheikh: With VR and 360-degree filmmaking, which I always regard as almost the smallest unit of virtual reality, we can amaze people, we can get you closer to the world of the story, and we can put you in someone else’s shoes. We can create more of a feeling of empathy. This may be just a better version of things we could do already. But then there are some things that are just completely magic, and those are right on the fringe of the technology. For example, when you’re using headsets and 360-degree cameras combined with human actors as well, and you play with the space, and the technology is really itchy and fuzzy and doesn’t really exist. My favorite example is BeAnotherLab’s Machine to Be Another, which is a performance installation that started out as low budget experiments into Embod­ iment and Virtual Body Extension. They’ve created a system where it feels entirely plausible that you have inhabited another person’s body, complete with a sense of ownership. I really want the momentum to keep going and for us, as an industry, to keep doing these experiments to push the medium. We know it hasn’t reached its full potential yet, and experimenting is the only way to realize it.

Fred Truniger: Johan, I remember you saying in a different context that in your project The Doghouse you tried to get something out of the 360-degree, or in this case 180-degree, film experience that you could incorporate into more traditional filmmaking. What is this «something» that traditional forms of cinematic story­ telling can gain from?

Johan Knattrup Jensen: I think the biggest promise of VR is that it can turn cinema from a mass medium into a solo medium, or into an exclusive, even ego­ istic medium. From the perspective of an artist, I see a huge potential in creating experiences that people are actually willing to pay for. They’re willing to spend the same amount of money as they would for, say, opera tickets, to have these experiences. The reason why we have big movie theatres and create rules for a medium is so that we can distribute it. It becomes easier to distribute and the media becomes sellable in a mass-market way. That’s why we’re trying to put rules on VR, so that we can distribute it. But that’s initially not my intention…

VR has changed the role of the viewer not so much in terms of interactivity as in terms of the viewer’s responsibility. You’re no longer just a passive witness with no responsibility for anything. You can become an activist in the story. Producers and filmmakers should respect that the audience is ready to commit to such an experience, both emotionally and financially.

Fred Truniger: In your concept of VR as a solo medium, do you refer to the purely economic promise that may accompany the new form of entertainment commod­ ity you just evoked? It strikes me that the most promising result of your cine­ matographic experiments is a form of storytelling that is able to simultaneously include a core story that is delivered to all viewers and a highly individualized, maybe even singular story for each of the viewers – and thus extend the story­ telling experience to the moment, when different participants of a VR-piece engage in discussions after the actual viewing.

Johan Knattrup Jensen: People are talking about the single or mono audience experience as the downside of VR, as it is not a collective experience. I don’t think cinema necessarily needs to be a collective experience. More often than not, it’s an individual experience. However, that doesn’t mean we can’t create a space for collective reflections. In fact, I believe filmmakers should reclaim both the ante room and after room of the experience in an attempt to design not just the prayer, but the full ceremony of the audience. I strongly believe in the power of the expe­ rience triggered by the rituals of watching a movie. The more specific and per­ sonalized the rituals are, the more important and significant the experience becomes. Still, that doesn’t change the communicative nature of cinema and story­telling. It is meant for many people, but only one at a time.

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← Édouard Castres, Entrée de l’armée de Bourbaki aux Verrières (The arrival of Bourbaki’s army at Les Verrières), 1881, oil on canvas, 9.80 × 115 m, Lucerne In 1881, Swiss painter Castres created a panoramic 360-degree painting of a military event that had recently made his home country an active player in the Franco-Prussian war. Almost 87,000 members of the French Bourbaki Army, defeated and demoralized, were allowed to cross the border to Switzer­land, where they were decommissioned and detained in what became famous as one of the first opera­tions of the Inter­ national Red Cross.

In order to effec­tively captivate and immerse the audience, Castres put sculptural elements on a so-called faux terrain in the fore­ground of his painting: life-size figures in uniforms huddle up to a fake fire; local civilians approach to attend them; guns and knapsacks lie about in the artificial snow. Like other panorama painters, Castres aimed at blurring the borders between reality and image. In effect, he created an early example of what we now like to call a «virtual reality».

Wolfgang Brückle: Your comments are interesting in that they point us to a very ambivalent situation, where what we know from post-conceptual currents in art is that they put aside storytelling for the sake of the distantiating forces that encourage knowledge or its crisis, reflection, and critical thinking. But in so many innovative forms of VR and 360-degree movies, immersion and a rather old-fashioned fascination with illusion are key. How do you think we can negotiate these apparently opposing distantiating concepts, on the one hand, and immersion, on the other? I can accept that users, viewers, visitors, and beholders are per­ haps granted more power than before. However, we usually associate immersive powers with the society of the spectacle, with entertainment and amusement.

Let’s face it: the invention of cinema is not the only reason why panoramic pic­ ture installations like the Bourbaki Panorama Luzern have fallen into oblivion for many decades. In their focus on sensational visual experiences, they also came to be considered too popular to be regarded as serious art – they came to be regarded as mere products of the entertainment industry. We probably need to evaluate the criteria we want to be essential in any critique of today’s emerging VR worlds.

Fred Truniger: I agree that there is a suspicious excitement about the promises of VR in the comments of so many practitioners and critics, which reminds me a lot of the «frenzy of the visible» that accompanied the advent of film at the end of the nineteenth century. I wish there was more critical reflection on what VR really is beyond what Tom Gunning labelled the «cinema of attractions.» Take, for instance, the VR project Tree by the New Reality Company, which was presented at the Sundance Festival. You put on the head-mounted display, and you are put into a seed’s POV and develop into a rainforest tree that is threatened by a slashand-burn campaign. As a viewer, I was a bit annoyed by an imagery the main pur­ pose of which was to make me feel the vertigo of the extraordinary viewpoint from the top of a giant tree: it posits a strongly immersive, but narratively naïve sensa­ tion of being a growing seed or a grown-up tree at the center of my attention, and I would argue that this preference of immersive effects over the argument dis­ tracts the viewers from focusing on the economic and ecological implications of the story. I am far more interested in the kind of dissociative POVs that the Felix & Paul Studios developed for the Cirque du Soleil’s Dreams of «O». While some of the effects used in this piece are reminiscent of the more or less silly techniques used to increase visual appeal in the 3D era, there is an intriguing short sequence where you are watching a group of synchronized swimmers performing beautiful blossom-like formations. All of a sudden you occupy two POVs at the same time: when you look up, you see a formation of synchronized swimmers as if from below the water surface. And when you look down, you see the same swimmers from above. To me, this is a genuine and exclusive potential of image-making in VR: to make my perception disintegrate into two possible embodied POVs – and still be able to «read» the situation properly. Even though they don’t seem to be located at the core of the hallowed promise of immersion, such VR possibilities of the VR medium are intellectually challenging experiences, which seem more interesting to me than even the most skillful repetition of those pretty intrusive immersive effects VR often seems to be satisfied with.

Johan Knattrup Jensen: We mentioned The Doghouse earlier – actually, immer­ sion is an ambiguously complex concept in this installation, too. I didn’t necessar­ ily intend a complete immersion of the viewers. They are not anonymous bystand­ ers: they live inside someone else’s mind, they experience a bona fide emotional transformation, and they undergo a short identity split which is very revealing beyond mere visual excitement. They will realize that there are other truths than what they thought was real. It’s both an intellectually and emotionally revealing experience.

Marco de Mutiis: As Wolfgang said, the practices have been there for quite some time. However, 360-degree and VR are not really the same thing when we’re talk­ ing about the scene of your experience, whether it’s Jeffrey Shaw’s experiments

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with iCinema or dome projections. We could also trace all the different forms of immersivity right up to the ridiculous attempt, in my view, to make screens slightly bent, or 3D television. But also, so many artists in the art world today are working with VR as a tool. Take, for example, Jon Rafman’s contribution to the Berlin Bien­ nale in 2016. At the Fotomuseum Winterthur, we’re now showing The Sensible Spectrum by Alan Bogana in which you wear a headset and a projection on top of your head; you’re seeing something within the headset while at the same time, it’s projecting something else outside. So effectively you’re always conflicted in that tension of not knowing what is actually going on outside of the view you’re immersed in. In terms of FOMO, in this case it’s the fear of missing out of what’s outside of your head. I think these are all interesting practices.

Wolfgang Brückle: These aspects obviously offer valuable points of departure for defining the promises VR holds for discussions on media aesthetics. The view­ ers’ individual choice of focus may also be essential. We may say that when, in 2007, the Wooster Group designed their panoramic installation There Is Still Time…

Brother, they married the old panorama paradigm, complete with the latter’s pref­ erence for battle scenes, to the theatrical narrative whose home base is the movie theatre. Actually, they were inspired by a feature film from 1959. What is essential in their approach is the chaotic complexity of a story told in visual fragments and in a palimpsest of competing voices, with the viewers experiencing a variety of meanings depending on what they decide to focus on.

Fred Truniger: This brings us back to the question as to whether we need to extend the scope and range of our notion of storytelling. Film has always offered one and the same story to a large number of people. While each individual has their own experiences, film has always tried and is still trying to control what’s going on in your mind. In installations like The Sensible Spectrum, however, there’s a narrative trap for the person in the helmet that is very interesting as a basic set­ ting for storytelling. The installation leaves a lot to the imagination of the viewer, his or her mind is expected to deal with insufficient information in a situation of visual uncertainty. And the author has to give up his or her full control over the narrative in the process of exploring the field of storytelling. Perhaps, as Johan said, storytelling is starting to become individualized again.

Marco de Mutiis: I think storytelling is a tricky concept in this context, as it tends to restrict VR to traditional film narrative ideas. VR exists within an ecosystem of digital media that might have nothing to do with stories. I’m thinking of the notion of databases and networks of images, for example, and in this sense VR allows many different visual cultures and image traditions within itself. Immersion is not necessarily linked to storytelling in the traditional sense. We probably should not underestimate the implications of Lev Manovich’s insistence on databases being, in the computer age, a key form of cultural expression and an alternative to what novels and cinematic narratives meant for the modern age.

Neal Hartman: I think it’s important to make a distinction here when considering the question of «individualization» in storytelling, especially in relation to VR. Immersiveness is a quality of VR experience – what length it goes to in order to create the feeling of «being there.» Presence, in turn, is what the spectator feels while having that experience. The level of presence generated in the participant can be affected by multiple factors, including the physical procedures that they use to get into the experience. VR projects can be very immersive but still fail to generate real presence in the participant, and vice versa. In particular, the role of interactivity and the customization of individualized narratives sometimes risks being overestimated. This seeming paradox is well exemplified in Johan’s DocLab performance of The Shared Individual, where everybody in the audience is basi­ cally experiencing the same thing: there’s no tailored individuality for all those people, and yet they all have an individual experience. This shows that it doesn’t have to be adapted for each person for it to be individual, and so an entire audi­ ence could watch exactly the same film. And in The Shared Individual, for example, they use touch, mimicking motion and all these things that, through research, are now widely known to enhance presence in the VR experience… I think you can have immersive experiences that don’t generate a lot of presence because they

→ New Reality Company, Tree, 2017, installation at the Camden International Film Festival, Maine, 14 to 17 September, 2017 Milica Zec and Winslow Porter’s studio uses virtual, augmented, mixed, and actual reality to create VR experiences in collaboration with corporations, foundations, and artists. While their 2016 project Giant was one of the first VR projects to combine semi-volumetric liveaction video with game-engine software, Tree offers a combination of a VR film with real-world props which are supposed to gently prepare participants for their VR experience and additional touch and smell experiences. The installation puts the viewer in the position of a Kapok tree which, after growing to con­sid­erable height, is threatened by the ecological disaster of deforestation across the Amazon basin.

Porter explains: «We wanted you to feel what a tree is like, what it means to be immersed in nature.»

↙ Alan Bogana, The Sensible Spectrum, 2017 In Bogana’s VR installation, a membrane marks the interface between intimate and public space: users are cocooned by the artist and obliged to watch while immersed in various VR sequences taken from online platforms such as YouTube or Vimeo.

This footage stems from different contexts, includes different gazes, and aims at distinctive viewer reactions. Via a customized VR headset, the users’ viewing behavior can be tracked by outside observers who experience the sequences in a unique, spatialized way. Confronting various forms of spectatorship, The Sensible Spectrum highlights the relation between the immersive media we consume and the potential privacy issues associated with recent developments in VR technology and the capacity to record our behavior.

haven’t been designed properly, and you can also have cinematic kinds of expe­ riences in a collective group that generate a lot of presence because of the way the spectator enters, because of the content, or because of the empathy that’s being generated. So, when we’re talking about VR I think it’s important to differ­ entiate between the actual medium and the content that is practiced within the medium.

Alia Sheikh: I agree that we shouldn’t talk about a tool as if it were a format. Mov­ ing visuals – video for example – can be anything: a video of your grandchild, CCTV footage, or something you watch on TV or in a cinema. Video isn’t the format, it’s the thing you put into the format. I often hear people talk about VR as if it was a specific format rather than a set of techniques that convey whatever you want them to convey. I don’t think that there’s one definitive, generic VR experience.

Even for movies, you always bring your experience to them, and I feel that VR tools are like that as well. Johan will look at VR tools and say, «I want to use them to put myself in a movie.» And I’ll look at the same tools and say, «I don’t want to be in the story, but I want to see it from much more closely.» And it’s the same tools that enable all of those approaches.

Florian Krautkrämer: I’d like to add another aspect. Perhaps for the first time in the history of motion pictures, we are offered an inexpensive tool that is not reserved for a few people, but is open to a broader community of contributors to our visual culture. You can get 360-degree cameras for about €200. The new GoPro Fusion model has a built-in 360-degree function. Maybe what we will do with the new medium is not entirely in the hands of the professionals; maybe we should also consider what amateurs are offering on their YouTube channels.

Alia Sheikh: When cameras became cheap and ubiquitous, we stopped getting static posed family photos; we got pictures of the cat, the dog, the baby, oppor­ tunistic unscripted moments. When technology becomes more widely available, that’s where we get the momentum and the enthusiasm. Because if it’s only in the hands of a few gatekeepers who decide, like, «well, we can’t use it to make money yet, so it has no value,» that puts the technology a lot more at risk than if a crowdfunded VR headset gets enough momentum that people buy it, get excited about it, and start doing really unusual things with it. These things might not nec­ essarily be financially successful, but at least there’s that democratization.

Wolfgang Brückle: You’re raising an interesting question: can democratization guarantee innovative strands of production in our field? In the field of photogra­ phy, Kodak may be a case in point although I’m not sure the smartphone is. Neal, you are organizing a festival with 360-degree films made by everyone who wants to take part. Do you think that one of the possible ways of developing this medium is to encourage production on all levels that hobbyists and professionals have to offer, and then see what will last and what will go?

Neal Hartman: I think this all falls back into the traditional film industry paradigm: the development of the tools is extremely expensive, so that has to be done by large companies. It’s what we’ve seen so far with VR: we have Oculus and Sam­ sung and now HTC, but they require take-up on the scale of millions or else the development doesn’t pay off. So, although the Samsung gear has been distributed in the few millions, and the Vive in the few 100,000s, so far it hasn’t been radically commercially successful for the hardware. I think that part of the reason for this is that, although there is now a range of «cheap» cameras and head mounted displays (HMDs) available, we don’t yet have a broad ecosystem of creators and content consumers with a diverse, healthy foundation layer of young people mak­ ing projects. VR needs a large group of creators that aren’t necessarily very good at it, but that are ready to flesh out the creative landscape, providing the base of the pyramid of production where at the top you have your expensive projects that are extremely well done. But without enough critical mass, those expensive pro­ jects will only be few and far between. That’s why it’s particularly interesting to see these tools get into the hands of lots of different people that don’t have a lot of means: they’re the ones that can grow this base layer of the ecosystem that you now see in traditional cinema with short films. We have an extremely healthy, though not in a financial sense, short film industry in the world, with tens of thou­

→ The Wooster Group, There Is Still Time…

Brother, 2007, installation at the Pano­ rama Festival, ZKM (Center for Art and Media), Karlsruhe, Germany, 15 December 2007 to 6 January 2008 Directed by Elizabeth LeCompte in co­operation with Jeffrey Shaw for the iCinema Research Centre, this installation pre­sents an experimental Spherecam film about individual reactions to the experience of war. Its title alludes to a banner in a scene from Stanley Kramer’s On the Beach of 1959, a film that evokes a post-apocalyptic planet Earth after nuclear fallout. Visi­tors sit in revolv­ing chairs at the center of a 360-degree AVIE system panorama, with the option of focusing on discrete aspects of a story about an eighteenthcentury clash be­tween British and French troops in the French and Indian War. Children’s toys vie for attention with politically minded bloggers, unsavory YouTube videos, and a mercurial host who, in Shaw’s words, attempts to «articulate the implications of this unique narra­tive space.» Audience members continu­ ously generate new cinematic experiences in this collage of multinarrative threads.

sands of short films being made very year. That drives a lot of quality upper level production.

Florian Krautkrämer: And that’s the important point here! It’s not only the authors of the scenarios that invent the stories, it’s also the audience. As long as the pub­ lic remains only ever interested in the same stories and contents, nothing will change. We need to find a way of triggering interest in new forms and experiments.

And in the end, that comes down to curiosity and education because we can’t guarantee that a good film will always find its audience only because of its inher­ ent quality.

Fred Truniger: Still, the education of filmmakers is part of this question. It’s not just an issue of money versus no money; it’s also about training versus no training.

If we accept that there is a lively production culture of prosumers, what is our role in the training of young people who want to become skilled filmmakers?

Alia Sheikh: You want to provide them with the opportunity to make more inter­ esting mistakes quicker. I don’t want everyone to make the same twenty boring mistakes. You never want to have a situation in a film class where people don’t know how to operate the camera and which end of the light is hot, so it’s impor­ tant to know the basics. But I’m really excited about the interesting mistakes and how quickly you can get to them.

Fred Truniger: Speaking from an art school’s point of view, it still makes sense to discuss perspectives beyond trial and error: we don’t want the medium to be limited, and we don’t want a normal narrative; we want to encourage artists and directors to break the rules. It’s the same discussion that’s been going on for nearly a century in the quarrels between avant-garde or arthouse versus mainstream cinema. But if we really believe that 360-degree VR is a cheap medium and every­ body can use it, who will develop the new forms? Who is the driving force behind it? Who should be the ones to play with it and find new ways to use it? Is it who­ ever tries, or is it the trained and skilled animators and artists trained at our art schools: who is doing the work? Is it really democratized, or is the development still in the hands of a certain type of skilled practitioner? Is it at BBC R&D, with the money they’re able to invest in experiments? Is experimental work so expen­ sive as to require an institutional background?

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Alia Sheikh: It’s not that it’s cheap, it’s that it’s cheap to play in this space in the first instance. To make the VR experiences that are going to win Oscars, you need a lot of money. Take our BBC project Home, which offered the experience of going on a spacewalk using the HTC Vive and the Oculus Rift and, ideally, a haptic feedback chair. It’s one of the most successful VR experiences the BBC has produced.

It offers a high sense of drama, excitement, adventure. A lot of the potential prob­ lems were solved by choosing a fitting story which let us ensure that people retained a high sense of presence and immersion. For example, you look down at your arms and you’re in a space suit, and you don’t have any dissonance in seeing that your hands are the wrong color, or you’re a man and not a woman, because most astronauts look about the same when they’re in a space suit. Now, Home was not a cheap thing to make. But it’s not necessarily expensive to play in the VR space and do something interesting. And in terms of who invents the interest­ ing experiences, I think maybe it’s the people who have a little bit of time and breathing room. As a research department, we’re not swimming in tons of money, but we can spend a relatively long time allowing ourselves to try out different things. Likewise, in a design and art school, you may have students who do cross-disciplinary work in film and animation, all interacting and talking with each other. And that’s why machinima and gaming is so interesting: they show what can happen if there are sufficiently motivated individuals who have the luxury of some time, and who have been offered an access point to make the thing they want to make.

Fred Truniger: When we looked at ultrashort filmic forms in a research project, we saw that, for instance in Vine, lots of people were trying it out. Yet the most successful ideas came from individuals who had a certain basic training, or even from big companies that used the channel to promote their own product. I think we have the same situation with GoPro. Who is actually playing with it? Who is making the really interesting stuff? I think we should find a way to inject this cre­ ative output into the development and not only rely on the power of the company.

Florian Krautkrämer: Exactly. When I was talking about education, I didn’t mean education in film schools, I meant education in general. A large part of the gener­ al public is interested in diverse forms, and in a broader possibility of different formats. Usually, however, the most successful films or contents are driving minor forms out of the market; they prevent their visibility to a larger audience. Com­

← BBC and REWIND, Home: Immersive Spacewalk Experience, 2016 In cooperation with BBC Science, BBC Learning, BBC Digital Storytelling, and the REWIND team of technologists and digital artists who specialize in immersive technologies for VR, AR, animation, DOOH, VFX, and 360-degree video projects, director Tom Burton created a 15 minute visual spacewalk narrative delivered to Steam VR, i.e. HTC Vive and OSVR. Viewers go through a simulated spacewalk devel­oped in conjunction with NASA and ESA. Be­sides the VR head­-set itself, they experi­ence the walk using haptic feedback chairs such as these movable flying or racing chairs. Immer­sive Spacewalk Experi­ence also supports a full body biometric system that allows viewers to hear and monitor their own heartbeat during the mission.

pared to twenty years ago, we have fewer opportunities to show different formats, contents, and other forms of film simply because the market is now dominated by a limited number of big content providers. The only way to stop this vanishing of non-mainstream content channels is by raising awareness through education, not only in film schools but everywhere. We need to spark curiosity for different forms, formats, narrations, narratives, and so on, in order to generate other forms of storytelling.

Marco de Mutiis: Going back to VR, I’d like to mention the research group BeAn­ otherLab as one of the critical examples in this discussion. While they’re doing some of the most innovative and interesting experiments with the medium, they don’t come from the big money of the establishment; they rely on funding and research grants. So, from a financial perspective, they’re not successful, that is, they aren’t in terms of the views and likes that regulate the distribution of media on online platforms. But if you want to talk about successful VR, then we have to talk about the pornography industry…

Wolfgang Brückle: Even if we accept the idea that the prosumer culture inspires, or indeed challenges, the big machinery of blockbuster production, I imagine that you all have some personal utopian visions, or at least aspirations, when working with 360-degree and VR tools in the run-up to creating a format. Obviously in your research and experiments, you are geared towards something that you may or may not call your own vision of a sufficiently complex narrative and visual expe­ rience. Is there anything that you particularly hope for, or something you’d like to see avoided in the way that the emergent tools are used?

Johan Knattrup Jensen: The one thing that people in the industry talk about when discussing VR is whether this is the medium of the future or not, which then raises the question as to when it is ready to be the medium of the now. For me, it is very much a medium of the now. I don’t care about what it can do in the future.

I care about what it can do now. How it can affect my audience now. How it can help me tell a certain kind of story that I couldn’t tell otherwise. The Doghouse would never have made it as a «flattie». Audiences would never have understood Ewa and her out-of-body experience if they hadn’t been able to actually become her. The Shared Individual would only have been an idea if we hadn’t gathered the whole audience in one person. The most important thing for me is not to under­ stand the medium, but to make the medium understand me and fit the medium to whatever story or whatever vision that I have inside me. Make the medium just that: a medium for expressing my feelings. It’s the medium that serves the mes­ sage, and not the other way around.

Alia Sheikh: I want to leave things open for the future. I really don’t want people to tie down what’s possible, to decide that there is one specific format, and one specific kind of headset. I’ve worked with projections as well as headset experi­ ences and I’d love to see a future with no headsets. Things like smart contact lenses or little projectors sending images onto our eyeballs sound like science fiction, but the reality is that headsets do need to get lighter and more invisible to be usable. If you think about television, the basic design of the TV set hasn’t changed that much in terms of the way you experience it. It’s a screen, it’s removed from you, there are buttons, and you can change the channels. Inside the device, it’s very different – we’re not using cathode tubes anymore – but someone from the very early age of television would be able to identify a TV in a modern living room. That format hasn’t changed very much. With VR and immersive formats in general, however, there are numerous different ways to create an immersive experience.

Neal Hartman: What I find particularly interesting about VR is that it has equally useful applications completely unrelated to art. I guess I’m going into the direc­ tion Marco already implied: as a tool for research, in therapy, treatment, training, tourism, and so on, there are a multitude of uses for VR that might involve a cre­ ative element, but aren’t cultural projects per se. VR is a ground-breaking tech­ nology in terms of examining a lot of areas of life and the world that have little to

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do with what we consider artistic culture. Yet bringing culture and media into the same tool that you can use for research and education, and bringing everything to the same plane, offers an opportunity to foster a very multidisciplinary appre­ ciation of how we both entertain ourselves and learn about our world. Showing how all this is interconnected could be really beneficial to how people relate to the place that we give to these diverse activities in our lives.

Alia Sheikh: Your comments bring us to augmented reality. We’ve been talking about going into a medium but still being a spectator and being removed from it.

What if virtual reality was considered as real as, say, my dad texting me. I don’t see that as a text message on my phone; it’s my dad who wants to say something to me. It’s real communication, with a real person behind it. So, what happens when virtual spaces become so configurable and so ubiquitous that they’re actu­ ally amongst our real spaces? For example, one thing I really want is a virtual editing room where I can just throw clips around, stick them on the wall, and see lots of stuff all at once, because I can never have enough screens. I can’t make that in real life and I can’t make that in VR either, the resolution isn’t there. But you can imagine virtual workspaces, and once you start using VR as a tool to make stuff, even to make more VR, I think that the space stops feeling virtual. It’s just over there, in the same way that I don’t think of my dad texting me as my receiving a virtual electronic message, I think of it as my dad telling me something. I think the «virtualness» of VR will somehow reduce. It will just become more reality…

My department is split between London and Manchester. In the London kitchen, they have a big screen that shows our kitchen, and in our kitchen we have a big screen that shows theirs. When you go past, sometimes you see someone you know and you wave. That has a validity to it that me putting on a headset and watching a cartoon cat jump around doesn’t. Why? Because I’m used to it and because they’re real people. Also, I’ve incorporated it as part of my real life, and it’s not just escapism. Maybe VR experiences feel like some virtual other removed thing because of what we’re using it for: for escapism instead of something that is incorporated into our lives.

Marco de Mutiis: If we will look at the current practices of artists working with VR, I see a big trend that is really addressing this ambiguity between the physical world and the virtual world, in a way similar to how we perceived our online and physical realities and identities in the nineties, before social media and web 2.0 collapsed the boundaries between them. If we want to pursue the exercise of foreseeing, we could try to draw a parallel and see how we’re really concerned about the body and the virtual place. But perhaps, once we start to get comfort­ able with it, it would become possible to imagine virtual spaces that take over, and that become an integral part, an intertwined and indistinguishable part of reality, just like Facebook or texting is now.

Contributors

Wolfgang Brückle has been working as a lecturer in the fields of art history, photography, and cultural critique at the Lucerne University of Applied Arts and Sciences since 2013. He studied art history and letters at the universities of Marburg, Dijon, and Hamburg, where he was awarded a PhD in 2001. He worked as an assistant curator at the Staatsgalerie Stuttgart and as an assistant professor at the universities of Stuttgart, Bern, Essex, and Zurich.

His fields of research include medieval art, art theory, museology, con­temporary art, and the history of photography. He is currently leading a research project on postphoto­graphy at the Lucerne School of Art and Design.

Marco de Mutiis holds a Master’s of Fine Arts from the School of Creative Media, City University of Hong Kong, where he continued to teach and research before starting work as a curator of digital collections at the Fotomuseum Winterthur, and, at the Lucerne School of Art and Design, as a teacher in the fields of physical computing, creative coding, and computational photography and video. He continues to practice as a media artist whose works are shown at international festivals and in galleries. In 2018 he began a PhD on in-game photography in the context of the post-photography research project at the Lucerne University of Applied Arts and Sciences.

Gabriel Flückiger is an art historian and an artist. He studied art history and social anthropology at Bern, fine arts and photography in Zurich. He is a research assistant at Lucerne School of Art and Design and a guest lecturer at Zurich School of Arts and the Design School Bern/Biel.

He has co-edited Bern 70, Bern 2017; Norbert Klassen – Warum applaudiert ihr nicht?, Bern 2015; and New Institutionalism, OnCurating (2014).

His artistic practice deals with the conditions of stage and appearance as well as the visual representation of the body and labor.

Dieter Geissbühler (Prof., Dipl. Architekt ETH SIA BSA SWB) works in the fields of architecture, town planning, criticism and writing, teaching and research.

He runs an architects’ practice in Lucerne with Gerlinde Venschott and teaches at the Lucerne School of Engineering and Architecture, where he has held a professorship since 2000. He is responsible for the MA course teaching on material technologies in architecture and is currently conducting research on materiality and architectural cultures as part of the Technology and Planning research group.

Andrea Glauser teaches and researches at the sociological seminar of the University of Lucerne.

She studied sociology, art history, philosophy, and political economy in Bern and New York. In 2008 she was awarded a PhD in Bern for her thesis on the interaction between cultural politics and artistic practice in the case of artist residencies.

She gained her postdoctoral qualification at the University of Lucerne. She has been a visiting scholar at Columbia University in New York (2006, 2011–12) and at the Institut Français d’Urbanisme, Université Paris-Est (2010–11).

Neal Hartman is director of the CineGlobe Film Festival at CERN (the European Particle Physics lab and home to the Large Hadron Collider) in Geneva, Switzerland.

He also serves as director of production for TEDxCERN. He was the invited chairman of the World VR Forum in 2017 and is on the committee of the Geneva International Film Festival. Neal has been producing the 48-Hour Film Project in Switzerland since 2008 and is the director of Human Power, a documentary film on high-speed bicycles. He is currently producing a documentary on CERN shot entirely by the engineering staff in the underground caverns.

Hans Kaspar Hugentobler studied human-centered innovation (IIT Chicago), communication sciences (HdK Berlin), and information sciences (FU Berlin). He began work as an academic in 2003.

Interested in innovation, organization, and design, and having gained teaching experience in Canada, China, Taiwan, and Germany, he started teaching the Strategic Design Planning course for the BA Design Management, International in 2007. He is currently also part of the program management team.

He has been involved in a range of projects related to health and business development at the Design & Management research group.

Catalina Jossen Cardozo is an industrial designer with Master’s degrees in product design and service design. Her work as a designer, entrepreneur, and businesswoman draws on her professional expertise in product design and marketing strategies.

Her research on the furniture and footwear industries has led her to inquire into the role of service design as a tool for making the traditional supply chains of both industries more sustainable. She is the recipient of a 2017 SNF Bridge Proof-of-Concept Grant for her project «By María! – Building a Sustainable Designer–Shoemaker–Customer Network.» Besides this project, she brings unique insights from Colombia and Latin America to the Design & Management research group. Her project is also supported by the HSLU Smart-Up program.

Sabine Junginger holds a PhD in design and a Master’s in communication planning and information design (both Carnegie Mellon University). She is an inter­­nationally recognized expert on human-centered design in government and organizational change.

In addition to heading the Design & Management research group, she is a Research Fellow of the Hertie School of Governance, Academic Advisor to the European Forum Alpbach, and member of the Research Committee of the Free University Bozen. Previous aca­demic positions include lecturer and founding member of ImaginationLancaster at Lancaster University (UK) and Associate Professor at the Kolding School of Design, Denmark.

Faith Kane is a design researcher and educator working in the area of textiles and materials.

Her research interests include design for sustainability, collaborative working in the design/science space, and the role and value of craft knowledge within these contexts.

She is a Senior Lecturer and the Programme Coordinator for Textiles at the School of Design, College of Creative Arts at Massey University in Wellington, New Zealand. She is also an editor of the Journal of Textile Design Research and Practice.

Johan Knattrup Jensen graduated as a film director from the Copenhagen film school Super16 in 2012. His works have since been shown at most major film festivals, including Cannes, Locarno, IDFA, and New York Film Festival, as well as at biennials, in art galleries, and museums worldwide. He is the artistic director of Makropol, a progressive production studio in Copenhagen.

His work spans cinema, installation, and performance and he is considered to be among the pioneers of cinematic virtual reality. His works include Skammekrogen (2014), EWA, Out of Body (2016), and, most recently, Anthropia (2017).

Florian Krautkrämer studied at Braunschweig University of Arts, where he wrote his PhD thesis on concepts of writing in film.

He remained at Braunschweig as a postdoctoral researcher before accepting a guest professorship in film studies at the Johannes Guten­berg University in Mainz. In 2018 he became Head of Interdisciplinary Programs in Design and Arts at the Lucerne School of Art and Design, where he also teaches film studies in the Master’s program. His research interests include mobile media, digital film, post-cinematography, screen studies, documentary film, and experimental film.

Vera Leisibach was one of the initiators of the self-organized cultural center Zollhaus Luzern and is active at the Tatort Garten.

She is a member of the Kollektiv am Strand with peers Laura Bider and Corina Schaltegger. Her doctoral thesis, based on artistic activities, investigated long-term collaborative strategies in artist collectives and artist groups. She has taught on the Master’s in Art program at the Lucerne School of Art and Design since 2015, where she is also an assistant on the Art, Design & Public Spheres research group. www.veraleisibach.com

Christiane Luible is professor and head of Fashion & Technology at the Kunstuniversität Linz. Her main fields of interest are the 3D virtual simulation of fashion and the influence of digital media on fashion design. Luible has always been fascinated by clothing and technology. After training as a women’s tailor, she studied Fashion Design at the University of Pforzheim and the F.I.T. in New York. In 2000 she developed a virtual fashion show that received widespread attention and was awarded the Lucky Strike Junior Design Award. Having worked with various apparel companies, Luible continued on the path of technology in fashion, writing a PhD on the simulation of fabrics and clothes at the University of Geneva.

Her main focus now is practice-led research in fashion design.

Bettina Minder is completing her doctoral dissertation at the University of Aalborg in Denmark.

After studying graphic design, she completed a degree (Lic. phil. I) in Slavic Studies, Film Science, and Modern German Literature at the University of Zurich. Since 2007 she has been involved in design research at the Lucerne School of Art and Design. In 2017 she joined the Design & Management research group.

She has extensive experience in working with interdisciplinary teams and has co-developed and co-led the interdisciplinary course program SocialLab. She is currently a member of the core team at CreaLabs, the future laboratory of HSLU.

Astrid Mody, architect MAA (2004) and PhD (2016). Astrid Mody’s core knowledge and experience is in architecture, textiles, and LED technology, research, and practice.

Rachel Mader is an art historian. Since September 2012 she In her research she investigates textile has been director of the Art, Design & technology, techniques, properties, and aesthetics as inspiration and Public Spheres research group at the Lucerne School of Art and Design. methods for expanding the design Between 2009 and 2014 she directed space of LED technology within a project entitled «The Organization architecture. For more information on her PhD see https://kadk.dk/ of Contemporary Art: Structures, case/textilisation-light.

Production and Narrative» at the Zurich School of Art. Her publications Isabel Rosa Müggler include radikal ambivalent, Zurich/ Zumstein (FH Textildesign, Berlin 2014; «How to move in/an MAS Digital Design & Management) institution», in: New Institutionalism, OnCurating (2014), www.on-curating. is a designer with a background in textiles. She is a researcher at org; and Kollektive Autorschaft in der the Lucerne University of Applied Kunst, Bern 2012.

Sciences and Arts, where she also teaches on the MA in design. Her Sarah Merten read art history research interests include materiality at the University of Zurich. She has been a research assistant at the and the interfaces between design Lucerne School of Art and Design and technology, high-tech and since 2015 and is currently conductlow-tech. Her company, Tiger Liz ing PhD research under Professor Textiles, develops and produces soft Beatrice von Bismarck (Leipzig) in and functional materials for a variety the context of the SNF funded project of architectural applications.

«Off OffOff Of? Swiss Cultural Policy and Self-Organization in the Arts since 1980.» She also works as a researcher at the Kunstmuseum Bern and regularly writes reviews and texts on contemporary art for various journals, monographs, and catalogues.

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Pablo Müller is an art critic and an art historian. He works within the Art, Design & Public Spheres research group at the Lucerne School of Art and Design. He is currently at the University of Zurich conducting doctoral research on socially engaged art criticism in the examples of October, Texte zur Kunst, and Mute.

He writes for Kunstbulletin, Neue Zürcher Zeitung, and WOZ Die Wochenzeitung. He co-edits Brand New Life, an online magazine for art criticism.

Claudia Ramseier studied social anthropology, media, and communication sciences as well as religious studies at the University of Berne (Lic.phil.hist.). She has extensive experience working in cultural and tertiary education and has taught courses on scientific writing and film analysis at the Zurich University of Applied Arts. She joined Lucerne School of Art and Design as a scientific researcher in 2014 and has helped to develop new curricula for the BA program Design Management, International (DMI).

Her current work includes research and teaching in addition to coordinating the project SwissGradNet and supporting the school’s development department in its projects. She has been contributing to Design & Management research group projects since 2017.

Alia Sheikh is a filmmaker and senior development producer working in the BBC’s Research and Development Department, Man­ chester. Having formerly directed the Production Labs project, she now runs the department’s experimental filming projects. She has been investigating immersive video formats since her work on BBC R&D’s Surround Video system in 2010, and previously designed experiments to test a variety of immersive filming techniques, including for ultra-high frame rate and high dynamic range video capture. At present her work is focused on the research questions of how to effectively convey a narrative and unobtrusively direct attention in 360-degree video.

Peter Spillmann is an artist, curator, and lecturer. Co-founder of various self-organized platforms such as the Center for Post-Colonial Knowledge and Culture (2008), he develops thematic projects and exhibitions in alternating interdisciplinary contexts. He teaches and researches at the Lucerne School of Art and Design, where he is director of the Master’s in Art program with a focus on art in public spheres. His recent projects and publications include Destination Kultur (2012), www.transculturalmodernism.org (2012), mapping.postkolonial.net (2013), tricontinentale.net (2015), and Viet Nam Diskurs (2018).

Dagmar Steffen holds a degree in product design (HfG Offenbach) and a PhD in design (University of Wuppertal). She has worked as an author, an exhibition curator, and as a freelance journalist for various professional journals.

After several teaching assignments and research projects at German and Finnish universities, she joined Lucerne School of Art and Design in 2008. She teaches design semantics and theories of design. As a core member of the Design & Management research group, she has led and contributed to a range of research projects involving health applications and product development for businesses. She is the representative for Smart-Up, a support program for HSLU entrepreneurs.

Fred Truniger works as a film historian, curator, and researcher at the Lucerne University of Applied Arts and Sciences. He holds an MA in film theory from the University of Zurich and a PhD from the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology, ETH Zurich. In the past he has directed the graduate studies program, led the Visual Narrative research group, and run the Ultrashort research project at the Lucerne University of Applied Arts and Sciences, where he is now Head of the MA Film program.

Axel Vogelsang leads the Visual Narrative research group and is a senior lecturer at the Lucerne School of Art and Design. He holds a PhD in design from Central Saint Martins College – University of the Arts London. Since 2010 the focus of his research has been the use of digital and visual media in cultural contexts, particularly museums.

Axel Vogelsang is also a board member of the German Society for Design Theory and Research (DGTF).

Andrea Weber Marin (Prof. Dr.) is head of the Product & Textile research group at the Lucerne School of Art and Design. She studied environmental sciences and did her PhD at the Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich. She worked in the textile industry for several years before becoming a lecturer and researcher at Lucerne University.

Martin Wiedmer (Dipl. Arch. HTL) has been Vice Dean of the Lucerne School of Art and Design since 2012. He is in charge of its four research groups and six bachelor's and master's programs.

From 2001 he expanded research at the Academy of Art and Design, University of Applied Sciences and Arts Northwestern Switzerland.

Between 2005 and 2012 was director of its Institute of Art and Design Research. During this time he carried out multiple research and service projects in art and design, especially in the fields of interaction and design thinking. Martin Wiedmer is active on various research boards, juries, and conference committees.

Nummern

Impressum

Bildnachweis

Unter dem Titel «Nummern» erscheinen jährlich ein bis zwei Magazine, die aktuelle Themen der Hochschule Luzern – Design & Kunst beleuchten. Die Publikation vereint dabei Texte und Bilder aus Forschung, Ausbildung und Weiterbildung sowie von speziellen Ereignissen, Symposien und Jubiläen.

Hochschule Luzern – Design & Kunst

S. 16 Faith Kane; S. 20 Christophe Guberan & Carlo Clopath; S. 22 Foto: Mariia Zubakova; S. 23 Neri Oxman, Foto: Steven Keating; S. 24 Astrid Mody; S. 26 oben (2) Stamers Kontor; S. 26 unten Frederik Petersen; S. 27 Stamers Kontor; S. 30 Foto: Vera Leisibach; S. 61 Foto: Michael Fund; S. 64 Foto: Michael Fund; S. 68 Johan Knattrup Jensen; S. 72 Foto: Emanuel Ammon/AURA; S. 75 oben New Reality Company; S. 75 unten Alan Bogana; S. 77 The Wooster Group; S. 78 BBC/REWIND

Bisher erschienen sind: Nummer 1 (April 2011) urban.art.marks Kunst erforscht den Raum der Stadt Nummer 2 (Oktober 2012) Destination Kultur Die Kultur des Tourismus Nummer 3 (März 2014) Postdigitale Materialität Vom Dialog des Handwerks mit den Optionen des Virtuellen Nummer 4 (Mai 2014) Made by …

Textilien im Zentrum Nummer 5 (November 2015) Ultrashort, Reframed Nummer 6 (September 2016) Nordwärts Nummer 7 (Juni 2017) Handwerker, Visionäre, Weltgestalter?

Nummer 8 – Mai 2018 Forschung an den Übergängen Herausgeberin der Reihe Hochschule Luzern – Design & Kunst, Gabriela Christen Herausgeber/innen der Ausgabe Sabine Junginger, Rachel Mader, Isabel Rosa Müggler, Axel Vogelsang, Andrea Weber Marin, Martin Wiedmer Beiträge Wolfgang Brückle, Gabriel Flückiger, Dieter Geissbühler, Andrea Glauser, Neal Hartmann, Hans Kaspar Hugentobler, Catalina Jossen Cardozo, Sabine Junginger, Faith Kane, Johann Knattrup Jensen, Florian Krautkrämer, Vera Leisibach, Christiane Luible, Rachel Mader, Sarah Merten, Bettina Minder, Astrid Mody, Isabel Rosa Müggler Zumstein, Pablo Müller, Marco de Mutiis, Claudia Ramseier, Alia Sheikh, Peter Spillmann, Dagmar Steffen, Fred Truniger, Martin Wiedmer Bildserie Olivia Sasse Lektorat Deutsch Andrea Portmann Lektorat und Übersetzungen Englisch Jonathan Blower, Samar Nahas Koordination Vivien Luong Produktion Christian Schnellmann Fotografien Umschlag Olivia Sasse Gestaltungskonzept und Satz Velvet Creative Office, Luzern Druck Druckerei Odermatt, Dallenwil Bindung Schumacher AG, Schmitten Das Werk ist einschliesslich all seiner Teile urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung ausserhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheber­ rechtsgesetzes ist ohne Zustimmung der Herausgeberschaft unzulässig und strafbar. Das gilt besonders für Vervielfältigungen, Übersetzungen, Mikroverfilmungen und die Einspeicherung und Verarbeitung in elektronischen Systemen. © 2018 Hochschule Luzern – Design & Kunst und die Autoren hslu.ch/design-kunst/ ISBN 978-3-033-06712-7 Wir bedanken uns bei der zeugindesign-Stiftung, Luzern, für die grosszügige Unterstützung dieser Publikation.

Nummer 8 «Forschung an den Übergängen» Die Ränder des Bekannten und Gewohnten sind für die Hochschule Luzern oft der Ausgangspunkt für spannende Forschung. An diesen Übergangen treffen Design, Film und Kunst, unterschiedliche Forschungskulturen, Grundla­gen­ forschung und anwendungs­­orien­tierte Forschung aufein­ander.

Die Forschenden bewegen s­ich dabei stetig an den un­scharfen Rändern zwischen wissenschaftlichem Labor, Atelier und Film­ studio, zwischen lokaler Relevanz und internationaler Signifikanz, zwischen der Beschreibung der Welt, wie sie ist und wie sie auch noch sein könnte. Die Publikation aus der Reihe «Die Nummern» eröffnet ein Feld für einen Streifzug durch eine Momentaufnahme dieser Forschungstätigkeiten.

«Research at the Transitions» The fringes of the known and the familiar often serve as a springboard for exciting research at the Lucerne School of Art and Design.

These transitions are meeting places for film, art, and design, diverse research cultures, theoretical studies, and practice oriented research. The researchers who work in these fields are constantly moving in the gray areas between the laboratory, the atelier, and the film studio; between local relevance and international significance; between descriptions of the world as it is and descriptions of the world as it could be. This issue of Nummer opens up the field for a foray into a snapshot of these research activities.