The Sexualization of Space

Dear Skeptics,

We occupy buildings every day. They are our safe places, where we cry, laugh, eat, and make love. Though we may not always be aware of them, our spaces narrate how we socialize and carry ourselves. Spaces can be charged with energy, the push and pull felt with every meander. They can hint at satire, power, and sensuality. The structure of spaces dictates who gets to see what, and often, this view is patriarchal.

Misogyny in architecture? You bet.

In “Split Wall: Domestic Voyeurism,” Beatriz Colomina addresses gender hierarchy within the architectural discourse, unveiling the sexualization of space. Colomina takes us on a convoluted journey through the Muller, the Moller, and the Baker homes, designed by architect Adolf Loos. Loos’s attitudes toward women in the private dominion epitomized nineteenth-century gender norms. He radicalized this temper in his designs. Realizing this gender asymmetry is crucial to understanding Loos’s architecture and his twisted legacy.

Loos was famous for highlighting that, similarly to a movie set, architecture should act as a framework for the narrative that takes place inside. In the Muller house, the sequence of spaces, articulated around the staircase, entails an increasing sense of privacy from the drawing room, to the dining room and study, to the “lady’s room.” Here we get a sense of the layout intended by the architect: to spiral the home from public to private in a palpable way. The space “Zimmer Der Dame” (see plan) overlooks the drawing room and is designated for Dr. Müller's wife. It is elevated up high and separated by a fretwork screen. Her space is no less splendid than her husband’s, clad in lemonwood, the raised sitting niche and the day-bed silk upholstered with seductive flowers, but the room’s location at the innermost part of the house implies that she should stay hidden and protected. The secrets divulged here will remain. This architecture was meant to reinforce the hierarchy of the dominant male figure as the manipulating factor. Why, then, would the “lady’s room” be the room with the most intense and mediated sense of control? This question can be reinterpreted by analyzing the way Loos used his architecture to elevate the male gaze.

The architecture of the Moller house also subtly facilitates who can and cannot be seen, but in this case the structure serves to put women on display as objects. In a footnote, Colomina writes, “... Silvia Kolbowski pointed out that the woman in the raised sitting area of the Moller house could also be seen from behind, through the window to the street, and that therefore she is also vulnerable in her moment of control” (82). While Loos heightens the woman by giving her the most intimate, private space in the house, he simultaneously elevates the male above her by creating a sense of vulnerability through the male gaze. This structure throws the woman off her own pedestal.

A similar instance can be observed in the house Loos built for Josephine Baker. The swimming pool inside the house is where this hierarchy takes place. “The swimmer might also see the reflection, framed by the window, of her own slippery body superimposed on the disembodied eyes of the shadowy figure of the spectator, whose lower body is cut out by the frame. Thus she sees herself being looked at by another: a narcissistic gaze superimposed on a voyeuristic gaze” (90). Josephine Baker’s role as a visual object represents the threat of castration posed by visual hierarchy. This idea is prevalent in Loos’s work, “the other” being a “shadowy figure” or the “intruder.” This architecture sets a narration of sexualization and creates a pyramid of power within the home. The female figure sits, vulnerably, at the bottom of this pinnacle.

Cracking out of this dark architectural time capsule and landing in 2018, it is important to visualize how this problem has shifted, and how traces of it have manifested into other situations. While we don’t necessarily have thousands of Loos-like psychopaths designing our buildings today, we should pay attention to misogyny in the construction of our spaces. How do we interpret hierarchy in office buildings, where the CEO sits comfortably in his thirty-first floor, 360-degree state-of-the-art office? Why were there far more men’s bathroom stalls in the architecture school at U of M just some decades ago? Spaces dictate our relationships, an art that Loos was able to master. Realizing how current structures adhere to the patriarchy will allow us to design buildings that hold their inhabitants as equals, setting the foundation for a future of inclusivity.

Interested in learning more about misogynistic architecture? Stay tuned to our website for Martina’s film, “Redefining Loos: Architectural Misogyny,” where she juxtaposes Beatriz Colomina’s analysis of Adolf Loos with modern scenarios to narrate the social interactions that take place within a late 19th century apartment in the beating heart of Barcelona’s Gotic.