Glass House: Oblique Space

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GLASS HOUSE: OBLIQUE SPACE

PHOEBE EUSTANCE

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NOTE TO READER The ‘Glass House' in this document refers to a greenhouse located in a Victorian Walled Garden in the grounds of Grimsthorpe Castle in Lincolnshire. The unique shape and scale of this particular structure is to do with its function as a ‘Peach House’, presumably a space for peach trees to occupy. It is thought to have been imported from Holland in the mid twentieth century and is the only one of its kind in England.

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With thanks to Lady Willoughby for allowing me to live in her greenhouse.

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GLASS HOUSE ARTICLE

It is December. Darkness descends rapidly. The space takes on a totally altered character. I am still in the same space, where I have sat since the morning, yet everything has changed.

The objects I could see so clearly are gradually buried underneath an opaque mass. I too, am consumed by it and yet it does not suffocate me. Rather I find myself to be protectively enveloped in the space.

My desk lamp encases me in a bubble of dim light that enables me to moderately orientate myself in the space insofar as I know the table, upon which I write and place my books, is in front of me.

The change in atmosphere allows me to focus intimately on what is before me and it becomes my world or immediate reality. What is external of this is temporarily eradicated. Despite the fact that due to the nature of the architecture I am completely exposed, illuminated by the desk lamp, this is forgotten. My world is the table upon which I am writing.

There is a noise in the direction of the door; I tip the head of the lamp up to see. In slightly repositioning the source of light I switch dimensions. The light is now illuminating the vast and empty space between the door and me. The table is gone.

Not only does this change in dimensions cause significant disorientation but in seeing the bare architectural space the vulnerability I had put to the back of my mind has, without warning, resurfaced. This vast space, empty and exposed, bears no resemblance to a place of dwelling. By dwelling place I mean a space which holds an impression of seclusion and intimacy; the essence of a home.

To overcome this lack of security and stability I create my own place of refuge. A structure within a structure. A space within a space. This is where I go to seek refuge. A small shelter of solitude within this disorientating space, awkwardly merging outside and inside.

This is a disorientating space. I feel disorientated. I feel exposed. I feel I had to seek refuge. I feel better now.

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Now, when the space becomes too overwhelming I make my daily, or nightly, transition from table to Refuge Space. I pick up the lamp and drag the electric heater into the space. These objects become ingrained into my daily routine. They are the closest things to me and I see them not only in their functional domain, as providers of heat and light, but also as implements of comfort.

The pond fleece insulates the heat and illuminates the light. A glowing triangle in a Glass House.

And I am inside and, again, able to temporarily eradicate the external situation, safe within these soft walls enabling me to surrender myself to sleep.

Admittedly, it has taken me some time to get to this point, being a keen advocate of darkness and silence. I turn off the artificial light and it is replaced by the illuminating glow of moonlight. The atmosphere accentuates the senses and I begin to hear, more profoundly, the whirring of the wind causing a tapping of the glass as it moves and collides. The noise infiltrates the space.

Even when I finally drift, which takes a considerable amount of time from getting into my sleeping bag, I can never relax into a deep sleep. I am always partially aware of my situation when all is still. The lack of security and stability, physically, means I have to find a way, mentally, to cope. The Refuge Space helps, to an extent, in giving me a hiding place to remain concealed and unobservable. However, I also need to construct mental barriers, to reinforce the malleable structure physically in place, to concentrate on my immediate situation within the Refuge Space.

As a consequence of this fragmented sleep I often wake at night in a misty haze of darkness which, compared to when I awaken in broad daylight, is much more comforting, especially during the initial part of the experience when I had no side panels on the refuge space. Day breaks and the clear morning light floods in. I wake up and am instantly forced to recognize my situation. This immediate orientation and localisation within the world brings with it an extreme disorientation of the self.

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It is not a gradual reformation of the self and the space, rather the experience is very abrupt. Usually when people wake up in their homes it might take them some time before they look out of a window and experience the natural light of outside. For the time being they are still in the bubble of their dwelling and are not externally aware. I don’t have the safe and secure constructs of the home. As soon as I wake I am in the landscape; in the world.

The window, in the sense of a home, is very symbolic of our relationship with security. We cut out and isolate a part of the outside world, an idealised outlook that we can use to orient ourselves.

There is no idealisation of the outside world; it pushes on you in its obvious materiality and overwhelming immensity. I am living in a space that opposes the long established traditions of domestic living, a space that brings the vulnerability and danger of the outside, inside. I am not frightened. I have found a way to live in this space.

Disorientation turns to liberation. I am facing the outside world. I am dwelling alone. I am exposed and therefore liberated. I am liberated in the space and situation. I am free from walls and barriers that hold me in.

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INTRODUCTION

I feel the best way to describe what’s going on in your art is to use a vocabulary other than an art historical, a critical, or perceptual rhetoric, to use something that has simply to do with the experience of how the thing was.1

This thesis is centred upon the idea of occupying space and has come to encompass references to social and spatial ‘orientation’ and ‘disorientation’. The decision to live in a Glass House was initiated by an interest in the architecture. It is a space that may be alluring for initial consideration but one that soon becomes uncomfortable and even ominous when enough time is spent within it. With it not being a conventional ‘house’ in which to make a home I was able to concentrate on the intimate details and psychology of inhabiting space2 and specifically a disorientating space. When I speak of ‘inhabiting space’ it is the way we situate ourselves in, and build a home from, spaces.

1 Dennis Wheeler sited in “Experiment and Progress” Failure, ed., by Lisa Le

Feuvre (London: Whitechapel Gallery, 2010) p. 172 2 The psychology of inhabiting space was termed, by Gaston Bachelard in The

Poetics of Space, as ‘Topoanalysis’; which is defined as the systematic psychological study of the sites of our intimate lives. Bachelard starts with the basic premise that the psyche is a place, and the house is an extension of that place. Both the house and consciousness house memories. Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) p. 8.

How we make a space a home from what we allow to come into our space in terms of people and objects and reciprocally how certain ways of being or living determine what we bring into our space. The ‘things’ that occupy our space with us are fundamental to our relationship with that space; in what author Sara Ahmed describes as the intimate co-dwelling of bodies and objects3. The inspiration of occupying this ‘foreign’ space came from the observations I made whilst living in Lisbon. The most impacting image or memory was how the people living on the streets would create their own ‘impressions of intimacy’ from what basic materials they could find; the raw need to put up barriers to the world even if they were without a home in the traditional sense. My intentions have changed and developed throughout this project and this document has taken a tripartite formation: from experience to analysis to placing the experience within a wider social domain. The Glass House article4, written whilst occupying the space, comprises of the more prominent eperiences, which, in experiencing them I felt I was able to understand more clearly how the pace affected me. The first chapter will endeavour to make some sort of resolution about

3 I will be looking at Sara Ahmed’s commentary on our relationship to objects

and its effect on the way we inhabit space throughout this document. The main idea of her writing originates from the concept of “orientation” which allows us to rethink the phenomenality of space and how space is dependent on bodily inhabitance. Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) 4 See ‘Glass House Article’

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the psychology of inhabiting space from analysing and reflecting upon the article I wrote in the Glass House in light of existing theory on inhabiting and occupying ‘space’5. The second chapter intends to bring the Glass House experience into a wider social sphere focusing on the relationship between social and spatial ‘orientation’ and ‘disorientation’.

5 The most prominent theory on the way we exist in ‘space’ has been

translated from German philosophers (or phenomenologists) such as Edmund Husserl, Martin Heidegger and O. F. Bollnow. The German language seems to harbour a more extensive vocabulary around this subject matter than other languages do. O. F Bollnow, in his chapter ‘Word usage and etymology’, shows us how the German translation for space: ‘Raum’ (as well as ‘Ort’, ‘Stelle’ and ‘Platz’), becomes incorporated in many words which have some sort of connection to the notion of space. Unfortunately the English language is rather lacking in these terms and instead seems to put the word ‘space’ after the noun, so I apologise for the amount of times this word will be mentioned.

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THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INHABITING SPACE

‘It is December. Darkness descends rapidly. The space takes

on a totally altered character. I am still in the same space,

where I have sat since the morning, yet everything has

changed.

The objects I could see so clearly are gradually buried

underneath an opaque mass. I, too, am consumed by it and

yet it does not suffocate me. Rather I find myself to be

protectively enveloped in the space.’6

The external situation and climate of the world, in which the

Glass House is situated, had a definitive impact upon this

experience. The timing, a week which spanned from the

remaining days of 2012 to the start of the New Year, meant

that darkness came quickly and lasted for longer. This

accentuated the disorientation of the experience insofar as

winter is notably a time to dwell closely; ‘Baudelaire sensed

the increased intimacy of a house when it is besieged by

winter’7, a space far from the one I was in.

The evolution of the space throughout the day in terms of day

space and night space8 was remarkable.

6 This is an extract from the Glass House article. I will use these

extracts throughout Chapter One in order to analyse my experience. 7 Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) p. 38.

8 O. F. Bollnow dedicates a chapter, in Human Space, to distinguishing the

diverse dynamics of space at night and in the day. Day space is described as “unproblematic” and “sober” whereas night space is much more mysterious; “one feels the presence of the unknown.” O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) pp.202-215.

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The architecture, mainly comprised of glass and a shell like

frame, rendered the space inside totally at the mercy of the

natural inclination of the world surrounding it. So at around

four o’clock every day the darkness would slowly creep in and

the trees and objects I could see through the glass gradually

became silhouettes and then disappeared completely. The

darkness, similar to the constructs created by the homeless

people, created my own ‘impression of intimacy’.

I would describe this change as a ‘coming of darkness’ rather

than a ‘departure of light’ and in this sense I would agree with

O. F. Bollnow when he describes the darkness, which

determines night space, as having a positive character of its

own; it is ‘more material’ than brightness9. At night the space

comforted me and at the same time fascinated me. Wherever I

took my lamp the light was reflected and bounced off from the

multitude of glass panes, repeated at different angles until the

whole space was looking in on itself. The outside space had

vanished and was forgotten.

When, for example, the world of clear and articulate

objects is abolished, our perceptual being, cut off from

this world, evolves a spatiality without things.

9 In this passage Bollnow is referencing Eugène Minkowski, who is known for

his incorporation of phenomenology into psychopathology. Minkowski first developed his findings about dark space with reference to the world of the mentally ill. Schizophrenics have only one form of dark place, which rhythmically alternates with the other form, that of bright space. O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p.212.

This is not what happens in the night. Night is not an

object before me; it enwraps me and infiltrates

through all my senses, stifling through my recollections

and almost destroying my identity.10

Merleau-Ponty articulately describes the paradoxical notion of

the darkness as being comforting and at the same time

overwhelming; overwhelming insofar as the ego comes second

to the space. The forms of thought that emerge in night space

are much more imaginative and much less coherent than those

formed in day space. Bollnow eloquently captures this feeling

when he said that ‘the Romantics were totally right when they

felt closer in the night to the origins of life’11.

10

Merleau-Ponty sited in O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p.214 11

O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 214.

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‘My desk lamp encases me in a bubble of dim light that

enables me to moderately orientate myself in the space

insofar as I know the table, upon which I write and place my

books, is in front of me.

The change in atmosphere allows me to focus intimately on

what is before me and it becomes my world or immediate

reality. What is external of this is temporarily eradicated.

Despite the fact that due to the nature of the architecture I

am completely exposed, illuminated by the desk lamp, this

is forgotten. My world is the table upon which I am writing.’

The objects that I brought into the space with me were not

only useful as objects with an intended function but also useful

as tools of orientation12. The term ‘orientation’ can be applied

in two ways13.

The first is an objective interpretation. We are directed

towards an object, we see it, and this helps us to locate

ourselves within a particular space.

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Sara Ahmed talks extensively about how our orientations involve directions towards objects that affect what we do and how we inhabit space. Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.28 13

Edmund Husserl discusses a similar idea, our interpretation towards an object, which he calls “a twofold directness”. Sara Ahmed then builds on this by applying the idea of orientation, which comes about as a response or reaction to an object occupying our space. Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.28

We adhere to strict definitions and boundaries; when you

enter a kitchen you wouldn’t expect to see a sofa, nor would

you expect to see a microwave when you go to the bathroom.

These traditional boundaries have been in place, in some form,

since civilization began to dwell in houses. It is only now, with

the ever-growing boom in technology and social media that we

have started to allow the boundaries to be crossed; for

example televisions and computers now make an appearance

into nearly every room in the house and the push for open

plan living means that the divisions are less defined. When

living in a Glass House there are no physical boundaries, I

strategically placed the objects, relying on their positioning in

order to create a living space with different functions. In my

case these were: sleep, eat and write.

The second is a subjective interpretation of the object. We

take a direction towards the object in terms of how we feel

about it, whether or not we are drawn to it. Our orientation

towards an object is dependent on how we inhabit space,

which in turn is dependent on our social circumstance in a

wider space. It also depends on our consumer habits, the

reasoning behind why we purchase certain objects in order to

fill our space. Sara Ahmed discusses human attachment to

“Happy Objects”14 as a way of describing those objects that are

supposed to bring ‘true experiential delight’ to the owner or

consumer.

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Ahmed dedicates a chapter in her book The Affect Theory Reader to “Happy Objects”. Sara Ahmed’s writing on “Happy Objects” is something that I will expand on in the second chapter.

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The basic premise is that “Happy Objects” are focused around

these normative traditional values, in particular biological

reproduction, which affirms our place as a respectable figure

of society. Edmund Husserl15 suggests that inhabiting the

familiar makes ‘things’ or objects into background for actions:

they are there but we don’t see them16. The impulsive desire

that causes us to buy things soon fades into the background,

as do the purchased objects, until there is a new desire. And

the cycle of consumerism goes on.

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Edmund Husserl (1859-1938) was the founder of phenomenology. Phenomenology is the study of structures of subjective experience and consciousness. 16

Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.37

The table is an object that had been at the centre of many

discussions around phenomenology and philosophy.17

The single table that I bought into the space became my centre

of action. What makes the table what it is, and not something

else, is what it allows us to do.18 With the table I occupy; I can

write this document upon it, I can use it to eat from and I can

place other objects upon it, as Sara Ahmed points out, the use

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The importance of the table in philosophy is principally to do with the fact that this is almost always the closest, most prominent object in relation to the philosopher. The use of tables shows us the very orientation of philosophy in part by showing us what is proximate to the body of the philosopher, or “what” the philosopher comes into contact “with”. Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p. 3. Sara Ahmed discusses both Edmund Husserl’s and Martin Heidegger’s use of “the table” in their philosophy. Husserl uses the analogy of “the table” as a “writing table” highlighting the difference between an object occupying a space and an object with a function to facilitate an action. ‘It is not incidental that when Husserl brings “the table” to the front that the “writing table” disappears. Being orientated towards the writing table might even provide the condition of possibility for its disappearance.’ Heidegger also uses the example of the table, which Ahmed again sees as “no accident”, in order to discuss the question of occupation. Occupation in the sense of how we occupy these objects and what they allow us to do. ‘What we do with a table, or what the table allows us to do, is essential to the table. The table provides a surface around which a family gather. The “in order to” structure of the table means that the people who are “at” the table are also what makes the table what it is and nor some other thing.’ Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p. 45. 18

‘Objects do not only do what we intend them to do. Heidegger differentiates between using something and perceiving something.’ Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p. 47.

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of the word ‘can’ helps to remind us that “usefulness” is not

merely instrumental but is about capacities that are open to

the future.19

Ahmed thinks about Husserl’s orientation towards the objects

around him and if this has an impact on his phenomenology.20

It is interesting to think about the physicality of the writer

when they write what we are reading. You, the reader of my

dissertation, can now think about where I was, my situation,

when I wrote this article in the space of which I am describing.

19

Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p. 46. 20

‘It is a desire to imagine philosophy beginning here, with the pen and the paper, and the body of the philosopher, who write insofar as he is at “home” and insofar as home provides a space in which he does his work.’ Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.29

‘There is a noise in the direction of the door; I tip the head

of the lamp up to see. In slightly repositioning the source of

light I switch dimensions. The light is now illuminating the

vast and empty space between the door and me. The table

is gone.

Not only does this change in dimensions cause significant

disorientation but in seeing the bare architectural space the

vulnerability I had put to the back of my mind has, without

warning, resurfaced.’

Disorientation, in this experience, occurs in the relationship

between my body and the architecture. There is a mismatch in

proportions.

Night space, as I have touched upon, allows me to

momentarily lose the architecture. The lamp, as my source of

light, enabling me to see, created my world. A ‘zoomed in’

world where the only activity is writing and the only objects in

place are objects made to facilitate this activity. The source of

light, my lamp, offers me security with the condition of the

positioning of its head. This variable changes and my world is

compromised.

Moments of disorientation are vital. They are bodily

experiences that throw the world up, or throw the

body from its ground. Disorientation as a bodily feeling

can be unsettling, and it can shatter one’s sense of

confidence in the ground or one’s belief that the

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ground on which we reside can support the actions

that make a life feel liveable.21

Sara Ahmed’s description of disorientation is a very poetic one

and you can almost feel the sense of disorientation as she

writes about the ground disappearing from beneath us.

Moments of disorientation, as depicted in my physical

disorientation due to the switching in spatial dimensions, are

moments of a physical or mental change in dimensions causing

your body to physically turn and leave the world where it was

so comfortably settled; the table being my object of comfort.

The change in direction of the light source made me lose what

was before me and I was thrust into a very different world: the

vast and empty world of the Glass House.

Sara Ahmed describes disorientation as a sensation we share

in common with all humanity. Moments of disorientation can

occur emotionally and physically. The bodily feeling (heart in

mouth) is the same in both cases however the time it lasts, or

the time we take to get over it, is not.

Previously I described night space as a ‘coming of darkness’

rather than a ‘departure of light’ and therefore giving it a

material quality rather than it simply being an absence of day

space. The same can be applied to this experience. The “loss”

of perspective or focus is not an absence but ‘an object, thick

21

Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.157.

with presence’22; the presence of an absence. The loss of focus

in one “world” or moment in time enables us to gain another;

the disorientation comes from passing between these two

“worlds”.

With emotional disorientation, such a feeling of shattering or

of being shattered, might persist and become a crisis. The

question then becomes not about the experience of

disorientation, for it is a commonality amongst us all, but how

we cope with the way it impacts our bodies and orientation in

space23. How we cope determines what happens next. Some

people relish change and experiences whereas others are

content with the safety and security of what they know and

the social norms that have been repeated and passed down in

society. However these may be the people that, when a

disorientating circumstance does occur, might not be able to

cope with it and the sense of disorientation will last longer.

22

Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.158. 23

Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) pp.157-158.

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‘This vast space, empty and exposed, bears no resemblance

to a place of dwelling. By dwelling place I mean a space

which holds an impression of seclusion and intimacy; the

essence of a home. To overcome this lack of security and

stability I create my own place of refuge.

A structure within a structure. A space within a space.

This is where I go to seek refuge. A small shelter of solitude

within this disorientating space, awkwardly merging outside

and inside.’

The idea of seeking refuge within an intimate space is one that

can be attributed to Bachelard’s term of ‘primal images’,

images that bring out the primitiveness in us24. The fact that

these structures are described as primal goes to show that we

do not need elaborate or fabricated constructs in order to

dwell; we simply need a basic shelter or refuge.

The house is the staple Western dwelling space. However, if

necessary some modest corner would suffice. The idea of a

structure for dwelling is imagined in many forms though

historical and cultural circumstances. It is essentially the centre

of that individual’s world. Bollnow briefly discusses how such a

centre (even if moveable) is created in nomadic societies by

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Bachelard primarily ascribes this to the imagery of shells and nests. He then develops this into an act of ‘withdrawing’ and the physical pleasure we get from withdrawing into our corner or shell as a symbol of refuge. Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) p. 91.

temporarily setting up a tent25. Nomads live with no fixed

home, their landscape and orientation in the world constantly

changes. These are people who have come to accept

‘disorientation’ as a frequent occurrence in their lives.

As previously mentioned, my interest in the idea of seeking

refuge within ‘Refuge Spaces’ came from how the homeless

people in Lisbon constructed their shelters from various ‘to

hand’ materials or existing structures. Many made use of shop

entrances, rubbish bins or bits of disused cardboard to create

these spaces. Even though these people are ‘unhoused’ they

still needed some kind of barrier to the external world in which

they could hide themselves and seek refuge. The act of seeking

refuge, which can be associated with Bachelard’s definition of

‘primal images’, is a very simplistic and primitive action that is

embedded in our human nature. Both the dwelling places I

have mentioned, in Lisbon and in the Glass House, have an

association with nomadic structures and ephemeral

architecture.

Liberation comes in the form of a hiding-place or place of

refuge. The desire to observe the world yet remain concealed

is prevalent in humanity and especially in the child; we long to

return to a primitive and simplistic way of being and living.26

This then leads us back to Bachelard’s basic premise: the joy of

dwelling.

25

House and dwelling may be used interchangeably in this sense. O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 125. 26


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The space that I am in, a space to which I would associate

Baudelaire’s key word vast, there are no intimate corners to

seek refuge, no opaque walls in which to construct a sense of

security or stability. The structure blurs the usually strictly

defined spaces of outside and inside. Many philosophers have

commented on the effect these spaces have on our way of

being, and when confronted with outside and inside, think in

terms of being and non-being.27 Gaston Bachelard’s

reinforcement of the opposition, by making inside concrete

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Gaston Bachelard devotes a chapter in The Poetics of Space to the dialects of outside and inside. He describes them as being opposite poles, and compares it to the dialects of yes and no, which decides everything. However the two terms of ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ pose problems in that they are not symmetrical terms, therefore the first task would be, Bachelard argues, to make inside concrete and outside vast. This solution appears to be in contradiction with the interior space I have described. Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) p. 211 Jean Baudrillard also comments on “the caesura between inside and outside, and their formal opposition, which falls under the social sign of property and the psychological sign of the immanence of the family, make this traditional space into a closed transcendence.” Baudrillard is bringing this opposition forward into a more sociological field where the barriers to the outside give the family unit superiority in terms of inhabitance. Jean Baudrillard, The System of Objects (London: Verso, 2005) p. 14. O. F. Bollnow, in ‘Human Space’ describes the two spaces in terms of how a person feels and reacts to each one. The outer space is the space for activity in the world, in which it is always a question of overcoming resistance and defending oneself against an opponent; it is the pace of insecurity, of danger and vulnerability. Whereas when we are intimately inside “man can relax his constant alert attention to possible threats”, the supreme task of the house, Bollnow asserts, is to give this peace to man “and in this way the space of security is distinguished from the space of threat” O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 125.

and outside vast, poses a problem in defining the Glass House

as belonging to either category. The Glass House is vast and

not concrete, and therefore holds characteristics of outside

space; however I am still physically protected from the

external weather, albeit with a few leaks. This is what makes

the space disorientating. Jean Baudrillard perceives the inside

space as giving superiority to the family unit, which again the

Glass House does not as I believe the superiority comes from

the sense of it being a darkened enclosure limiting and

controlling how much of the outside world you see with

windows. O. F. Bollnow describes outside space poetically

when he says: ‘And if it was only this space that existed, the

existentialists would be right and man would indeed remain an

eternally pursued fugitive. This is why he needs the space of

the house.’ This is why I felt the need to create a refuge

because, as Bachelard comments, even ‘the mere dwelling

becomes a house in the real sense’28.

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‘This is a disorientating space. I feel disorientated. I feel

exposed. I feel I had to seek refuge. I feel better now.’

Again disorientation arises, not by a sudden detachment like

the repositioning of a light but because of a gradual mental

build-up of the space and the consequential realisation of

where I am. Disorientated or oblique living (something that I

will discuss further in the second chapter) can occur for

reasons beyond the physicality of the space and at the same

time affects how we inhabit space; ‘the same gradual

formation of the space mirrors the gradual formation of the

self.’29

The social circumstances we find ourselves to be in determine

how we inhabit space. The exposure of someone’s private life

because of circumstances in which they choose to live and

inhabit space becomes more disorientating for that individual

when they are going against the grain of normative living

arrangements. They are exposed because society sees non-

normative as synonymous with not right and therefore wrong.

It is for this reason we put up our refuges. It is hard to embrace

the disorientation but in some cases exposure brings

liberation. When a potentially disorientating or bad situation

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Bollnow uses this specially to describe our localisation in space when we awake from sleep, which I will discuss in more detail later on in Chapter One. O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 172.

occurs we feel the need to crawl back into our shells, but the

avoidance of exposure means the building of pressure.

The refuge space became more of a pod or a capsule, which

disappears into the space because of its nomadic and

ephemeral characteristics. The pond fleece, from which it was

made, gave it an unassuming quality. Although I built a

structure in which to ‘seek refuge’ I also started to embrace

the space and take pleasure from the absence of barriers and

‘things’ that get in my way.

After the disorientation, comes liberation.

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‘Now, when the space becomes too overwhelming I make

my daily, or nightly, transition from table to refuge space. I

pick up the lamp and drag the electric heater into the space.

These objects become ingrained into my daily routine. They

are the closest things to me and I see them not only in their

functional domain, as providers of heat and light, but also as

implements of comfort.

The pond fleece insulates the heat and illuminates the light.

A glowing triangle in a Glass House.’

The ‘things’ that I intentionally brought with me into the space

served a purpose beyond their intended functionality.

They created metaphorical divisions within the Glass House.

Inside the refuge space the mattress and pillow lay horizontal

inviting me to sleep. The chair and table, on the other side,

orientated me towards what was in front of me upon the

table.

Some objects worked interchangeably. The lamp and electric

heater became my companions. I was orientated towards

them insofar as I was in constant physical contact with them. I

took them with me on the journeys of my daily routine and

they occupied the space with me. They were my ‘spatial

followers’.

We are turned toward things. Such things make an

impression upon us. We perceive them as things

insofar as they are near to us, insofar as we share a

residence with them. Perception hence involves

orientation; what is perceived depends on where we

are located, which gives us a certain take on things.30

When these ‘things’ are orientated it means they are facing

the right way. The objects situated around or close to the body

allow the body itself to be extended. This extension of the

body means the object takes on qualities of the body in order

to save us the trouble of physical effort. As Jean Baudrillard

points out, the modern domestic world is governed by regular

gestures of control and remote controls are replacing the

traditional tools belonging to the field of practical meditation

and phallic symbolism31. Consumer culture has, almost

singlehandedly, eliminated any kind of effort people may have

encountered in their domestic life.

30


Baudrillard looks at our relationship with the functional objects we use and observes how we have become less rational than our own objects, which are now ahead of us, organising our surroundings. The physical relationship we had with objects is now weakened; Baudrillard compares our utilization of traditional tools, the gesture of pressing the whole body into the service of effort, with the rhythm of sexual exchange. This is now discouraged and demobilized with the advent of the technical object. Jean Baudrillard, The System of Objects (London: Verso, 2005) pp. 51-57.

19

‘Every object claims to be functional, just as every regime

claims to be democratic.’32

Everything, now, is made for convenience.

Our occupation with objects, as Sara Ahmed describes it, is

relative to each person. An object tends towards some bodies

more than others, depending on “the tendencies” of those

bodies. ‘Bodies and their objects tend toward each other they

are orientated toward each other and are shaped by this

orientation.’33 Again, it is appropriate to use the analogy of the

table; the writing table tends towards the writer in facilitating

the act of writing. If both the body and the object are

compatible, if they are orientated towards each other, then

the “action” can happen.

This “action” is dependent on how we are occupied with

objects. The objects that are occupying the space determine

what happens in a space. Going back to the metaphorical

divisions I implemented, the space of study that I created was

shaped by a decision, the decision that this space is for

studying.

32

Jean Baudrillard, The System of Objects (London: Verso, 2005) p. 67. 33

As previously mentioned, objects take on physical qualities of bodies to enable the extension of bodies in terms of functionality, Ahmed comments that ‘objects may even take the shape of the bodies for whom they are “intended”, in what it is they allow a body to do.’ Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.51.

This decision then “shapes” what objects, “occupy” the space

and what actions “happen” in the space; ‘action involves the

intimate co-dwelling of bodies and objects’.34 We are

restricted by each particular space in terms of the activity we

are able to do.35

34


Ahmed sees the question of action as a question of how we inhabit space; how we use objects to direct us to the appropriate action of each space. ibid., p.52.

20

‘And I am inside and, again, able to temporarily eradicate

the external situation, safe within these soft walls enabling

me to surrender myself to sleep.

Admittedly, it has taken me some time to get to this point,

being a keen advocate of darkness and silence. I turn off the

artificial light and it is replaced by the illuminating glow of

moonlight. The atmosphere accentuates the senses and I

begin to hear, more profoundly, the whirring of the wind

causing a tapping of the glass as it moves and collides.

The noise infiltrates the space.’

Abandoning ourselves to sleep is reliant on the ‘right’

conditions. I especially crave darkness and silence in order to

shut out and let go of the external world; to solely concentrate

on myself.

O. F. Bollnow draws upon Johannes Linschoten to discuss

falling asleep as a return to the unconscious mind. Linschoten

interprets falling asleep as ‘the becoming still of the reflecting

‘spirit’ and the return of the experience of the unconscious

mind [Seinsgrund]. Falling asleep means the renunciation of

activity.’36 Here Linschoten is describing a state where we are

not interrupted by intervals of conscious reflection. In my case,

the interruptions weren’t caused by conscious reflection but

by the intervals of noise and light made possible by the Glass

36

Linschoten, ‘Uber das Einschlafen’, p.71 sited in O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 173.

House. The vast space of the interior meant that light from

the moon and noise from the interference of the weather on

the architecture filled the space, bouncing off the reflective

panes of glass and permeating the interior.

The world changes for us when we are sleeping: our spatial

orientation is lost. We are in the space and yet we have no

recognition of the space. Time vanishes for us.37

37

Bollnow describes our relationship with the world when we sleep, ‘man slips away from the space spread visibly around him’. When in the world of sleep, time becomes irrelevant and the body loses itself in the present moment. O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 174.

21

‘Even when I finally drift, which takes a considerable

amount of time from getting into my sleeping bag, I can

never relax into a deep sleep. I am always partially aware of

my situation when all is still. The lack of security and

stability, physically, means I have to find a way, mentally, to

cope.

The Refuge Space helps, to an extent, in giving me a hiding

place to remain concealed and unobservable. However, I

also need to construct mental barriers, to reinforce the

malleable structure physically in place, to concentrate on

my immediate situation within the Refuge Space.’

Sleep is dependent on the feeling of security within one’s

private space. We fall asleep much more readily knowing that

we are safe in our private space, with minimal chance of

interference. Our space, as Bollnow reiterates, ‘must have a

certain character so that we can fall asleep in it, a character of

protectiveness and trustworthiness, to which we can

surrender ourselves without reservation.’38 The Glass House

had no measures of security. The Glass House as a “house”

lacked all qualities of protectiveness and trustworthiness. I

mentally prepared myself for sleep; in my mind I was able to

bring forth the soft walls of the Refuge Space and leave the

Glass House behind.

38


We shall see that the imagination functions in this

direction whenever the human being has found the

slightest shelter: we shall see the imagination build

“walls” of impalpable shadow, comfort itself with the

illusion of protection.39

This passage links directly to the way I had to create illusions of

protection in order to reinforce my created Refuge Space. This

also relates to the situation of the people I observed living on

the streets of Lisbon. Towards the end of the experience I

found that I didn’t need to have these physical security

measures in order to sleep. It is possible to sleep in this

environment. Therefore I slightly disagree with Linschoten’s

thought:

To fall asleep, I must feel safe, or rather, I must

experience the security of the situation in its enclosing

and protecting character. I must be shielded from

hostile intrusion, in order to relax and sink into the

oblivion of sleep.40

Although it was difficult, I did manage to relax and accept my

situation even though I wasn’t physically ‘shielded from hostile

intrusion’. All I had was, as Bachelard describes, ‘the slightest

shelter’41. However, combined with the strength, mentally, I

was able to sleep. For this reason I have a problem with

39

Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) p. 5. 40

Linschoten, ‘Uber das Einschlafen’, p.73 sited in O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 175. 41

Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) p. 5.

22

Bollnow deeming the ‘unhoused’ as ‘inhuman’.42 As I have

attempted to show, there is a way of living without the formal

constructs of a house in the traditional sense; it is a mental

strength that enables people to live this way.

42

Here let us remember Goethe, who in one passage of ‘Faust’ speaks of the ‘fugitive’, of the ‘unhoused’, the ‘aimless restless reprobate’; for if the ‘houseless’ person is ‘inhuman’, in other words has fallen short of the actual nature of man, it follows conversely that man can only be truly human if ‘housed’. O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 131.

‘As a consequence of this fragmented sleep I often wake at

night in a misty haze of darkness which, compared to when I

awaken in broad daylight, is much more comforting,

especially during the initial part of the experience when I

had no side panels on the refuge space.

Day breaks and the clear morning light floods in. I wake up

and am instantly forced to recognize my situation. This

immediate orientation and localisation within the world

brings with it an extreme disorientation of the self.

It is not a gradual reformation of the self and the space;

rather the experience is very abrupt.’

There is a profound difference between waking up in day

space and waking up in night space. When we wake up at

night, it can be initially alarming ‘as a lack of the familiar

security of things’43 however calm is restored when ‘we

succeed in finding that mystic unity in which night space

comes to life from within.’44. When I awoke at night I felt much

more at peace and easily able to fall back to sleep, however

when I woke up in the morning it was a disorientating and

awkward experience.

Waking up in day space is usually a steady process of localising

ourselves within the gradual building up of ‘near space’.

Bollnow maintains that ‘only when localisation in space is

43

O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 215. 44

Ibid, p. 215.

23

complete are we ourselves again in the fullest sense. So

regaining ones space means at the same time regaining

oneself.’45 Therefore, there is a fundamental link between the

building up of space and the building up of one’s own ego. In

this case, the regaining of the ego is dependent on the

regaining of the space46.

The diverse characteristics of night space and day space, in

terms of human and animal behaviour, can be seen in

Cornelius Cardew’s score: ‘The Tiger’s Mind’47. The ‘Daypiece’

shows the Tiger trapped in a circle and calm whereas the girl,

Amy, is active. In the ‘Nightpiece’, however, Amy is dreaming,

‘she recognizes her mind’, and the Tiger is agitated; ‘He storms

at the circle; if inside to get out, if outside to get in’. It is

interesting to note the difference between human nature and

the behaviour of nocturnal animals, we dream of being

swallowed up by the darkness whereas these ‘other’ animals

are restless in the night space.

45

‘As long as darkness persists, this ordering of the environment succeeds only to a partial extent. The light of day is needed for a final determination.’ O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 172. 46

‘One cannot take hold of oneself, because one is in a state of constant transformation. Only by localisation at a particular point in space can the ego gain the strength to hold itself fast as something identifiable.’ The ego depends on localisation in space to gain full strength, thus space is the indispensable precondition for the formation of an ego that can develop freely from itself. O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 172. 47

Cornelius Cardew (1936-1981) was an experimental music composer. Cardew, Cornelius ‘The Tiger’s Mind’ <http://www.cacbretigny.com/inhalt/pictures/tigersmind/partitioncardUKTiger.pdf> [accessed 2 November 2012]

‘Usually when people wake up in their homes it might take

them some time before they look out of a window and

experience the natural light of outside. For the time being

they are still in the bubble of their dwelling and are not

externally aware.

I don’t have the safe and secure constructs of the home. As

soon as I wake I am in the landscape; in the world.

The window, in the sense of a home, is very symbolic of our

relationship with security. We cut out and isolate a part of

the outside world, an idealised outlook that we can use to

orient ourselves in the world.

There is no idealisation of the outside world; it pushes on

you in its obvious materiality and overwhelming immensity.’

Waking up in the Glass House was abrupt; I was instantly

forced to recognize the space and my localisation in the world

because of the glass exterior. The orientation in the world was

immediate. There was no time to build up a picture from the

objects around me, as you might do in a closed space.

This immediate localisation left me feeling bemused. It might

take a little time for a person to localise themselves within the

wider world by looking out of a window. I did not have this

luxury of choice.

24

By looking out of the window this person finalises their

orientation within space and the world ‘positioned in the great

order of horizontal and vertical.’48 We are orientated in space

only indirectly by the floor and the objects that stand upon it.

Objects, as well as windows, give us a slight localisation in the

world through the fact that they are physically bound by a

horizontal and vertical axis.

Bachelard maintains our desire to withdraw into a hiding-place

comes from a primitive or childish desire to conceal ourselves

from the world; we ‘sense the joy of a delightful

concealment’49. However ‘when the spyhole widens into a

window, which no longer focuses on a single potential enemy,

but fully admits the whole picture of the surrounding world,

the function of a window immediately changes.’50 Moreover,

when the window widens into walls and ceilings of glass, no

longer focusing on an idealised image but a 360-degree

surround vision, the function changes yet again. It now opens

up the inner space to the world as a whole. Through the

window, the small dwelling space is placed within the large

world. In the Glass House this orientation within the world is

not so gentle.

48

O. F. Bollnow, Human Space (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) p. 152. 49

Ibid., p.152. 50

ibid., p. 152.

‘I am living in a space that opposes the long established

traditions of domestic living, a space that brings the

vulnerability and danger of the outside, inside.

I am not frightened. I have found a way to live in this space.

Disorientation turns to liberation. I am facing the outside

world. I am dwelling alone. I am exposed and therefore

liberated. I am liberated in the space and situation. I am free

from walls and barriers that hold me in.’

In reflection upon this experience I feel that my thoughts on

inhabiting space have become more liberal. Now I know that I

can exist in a space such as the Glass House, with minimal

objects. I no longer feel inclined towards the traditional

concept of a home.

Let us think about the traditional concept of a home; the

family home. The one we grow up in, the one we start our own

family in; sometimes the transition between the two is

immediate. People in our society rarely get the chance to dwell

alone. A lot of people have a fear of dwelling alone, of being

alone, and feel the need to fill their space with bodies and

objects in order to dwell in happiness.

25

Just a single person is not enough to build a house, it is

not enough for a single person to dwell in a house. We

dwell plurally; we dwell with our family, with “our

own”, but separate ‘from others’, the ‘strangers’.51

Bollnow, in this passage, is very forceful in his ideology of

dwelling plurally. There is no other way about it: “we dwell

plurally”.

When thinking about how we dwell with other bodies I come

across a slight contradiction with Bollnow’s statement and in

my own mind. I have known people who live alone and it isn’t

a devastating and lonely existence but I also think that these

particular people are so integrated within a certain community

that the ‘house’ or physical presence of the house becomes

less of a defining aspect. I also think that separating ourselves

from the ‘strangers’ causes us to recognize and establish

difference with others more easily which can lead people to be

less accepting of people outside their intimate world.

This is something I will discuss further in the next chapter,

focusing specifically on people who may not follow the

‘normative’ way of living.

51


26

SPATIAL AND SOCIAL ORIENTATION

This chapter intends to bring the Glass House experience into a

wider social sphere focusing on the relationship between

social and spatial ‘orientation’ and ‘disorientation’.

Disorientation in this sense will identify with those people or

communities who do not follow the decided normative way of

living and being, but instead choose to live in an “oblique

world”52.

When I set out to do this project I had no intentions of using

the experience as a metaphor for living in an oblique world.

Likewise, I didn’t comprehend the extent to how much the

‘Glass House’ could symbolise in terms of social politics. Much

of the theory I am referencing in this chapter was read after

the experience.

52

This term denotes a world that is not straight but slantwise; ‘a world that has an oblique angle in relation to that which is given’. A conscious decision to live against, or at an angle to, the grain of normative society. Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.161

27

DISORIENTATION

In Chapter One I spoke of disorientation in terms of how the

architecture affected me as an inhabitant of the space,

exposure from the surrounding glass walls and ceiling, as well

as occupying the vast and empty space inside. I also briefly

touched upon occurrence of disorientation for reasons beyond

the physicality of space, something that happens as a response

to certain social situations, which in turn determines how we

inhabit space.

Sara Ahmed shows us that the lines that direct us are lines of a

performative nature dependent upon the ‘repetition of norms

and conventions, of routes and paths taken, but they are also

created as an effect of this repetition.’53 These lines have a

cyclical nature, not only between the cause and effect of this

repetition, but also because the repetition has been passed

through generations and so, are embedded in our traditional

value system.

It might be useful to use the analogy of ‘going off the beaten

track’ when walking. The path is created to direct us in a

certain way, towards a certain destination. By veering from

this path we are risking potential danger, this is what we have

been taught from numerous fairy tales and our parents.

53


Analogies, such as this, stay with us as we enter into

adulthood. For women, especially, it is sometimes difficult to

find liberation within these lines because of traditional

conformities and value systems. Sometimes these lines can be

deceiving. I recall a piece of gossip a family friend had

overheard about my mother: “from the way Jane Eustance

speaks you would think they would have a lot of money”. My

mother’s response to this was one of jest. However, whilst

growing up we were taught, more so by my mother than my

father, to always be conscious of how we appear to others.

You can almost manipulate these lines to make them seem

more linear.

Nevertheless, ‘it is also important to remember that life is not

always linear or that the lines we follow do not always lead us

to the same place’54. Even if we follow the beaten track, and

do the ‘right’ things, these moments of disorientation can pull

us from our paths and force us to struggle through the

metaphorical foliage, creating new paths in order to get back

onto the beaten track, or in some cases the struggle back

causes a change in perceptions and we may never reach it, or

no longer want to.

The point is what we do with such moments of

disorientation, as well as what such moments can do –

whether they can offer us the hope of new directions,

54

Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006), p.18.

28

and whether new directions are reason enough for

home.55

As noted earlier it is how we deal with disorientation that

determines our future and how we continue to inhabit space.

To overcome disorientation we can re-orientate our bodies ‘so

that the line of the body follows the vertical and horizontal

axes. Such a body is one that is straight, upright, and in line.’56 I

clearly remember, from my childhood, family members and

teachers telling us to pretend we had an imaginary string from

the top of our heads and to pull it, every so often, to straighten

our bodies. It represents a moral and social code of self-

preservation.

55

As Sara Ahmed points out it is how these experiences can impact on the orientation of bodies and spaces, which is after all about how the things are “directed” and how they are shaped by the lines they follow. It is widely perceived that straying from the ‘conventional’ path causes you to live in a disorientated or oblique world. Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) p.158. 56


QUEER SPACE

Ahmed associates this kind of disorientation with queer space.

The Glass House is a ‘queer space’. It is an unconventional

space that challenges the way we dwell and therefore the way

we exist.

Queer is a term widely used to identify practices (particularly

sexual) that defy the normative ways of being. In society

‘normative’ is seen as an antonym of ‘deviant’. The repetitions

of norms and conventions, here, are mainly about what is

considered ‘normal’ in our society, ‘these traditional values of

Western living are reflective of a distinct repertoire of habits’57

which Judith Halberstram identifies as ‘reproduction and

family, longevity, risk/safety, and inheritance.’58 These are the

values I have grown up with coming from a long familial

history of markedly heterosexual middle-class logic where the

emphasis is placed on money, family and respectability. There

is a strict and defined structure we are meant to follow that is

heavily founded upon safety and security.

57

Melchionne, 1998, p.192 sited in Erin Brown, ‘We Are Everywhere: Queer Space and the Art of Living in Glass Houses’ <http://www.sfu.ca/sca/global/pdf/Erin_Brown_WeAreEverywhere.pdf> [accessed 29 January 2013] p.5. 58

Halberstram, 2005, p.6 sited in Erin Brown, ‘We Are Everywhere: Queer Space and the Art of Living in Glass Houses’ <http://www.sfu.ca/sca/global/pdf/Erin_Brown_WeAreEverywhere.pdf> [accessed 29 January 2013] p.5.

29

We study in an endeavour to get a job; we get a job to obtain

financial security through a regular income; we get married to

ensure security through another person (and for many women

this is also financial security); and we start a family to build our

own mini empire to preach these values.

Queer in this sense (describing specific sexual

practices) would refer to those who practice non-

normative sexualities (Jagose 1996), which we know

involves a personal and social commitment to living in

an oblique would, or in a world that has an oblique

angle in relation to that which is given.59

In the sense of being queer we come across a slight

juxtaposition, in the desire to act upon natural instincts and

live naturally we choose a life which runs against the norms or

“normative desire” and therefore choose to live in an oblique

world which doesn’t adhere to the linear lines of what is

deemed as normative. Queerness is seen as an oddity; if

something is queer it is strange.

59


GLASS HOUSE: OBLIQUE SPACE

The Glass House can be appropriated as a metaphor for the

sense of exposure and disorientation people face when

inhabiting space in an “oblique world”.

Disorientation could be described here, as the

“becoming oblique” of the world a becoming that is at

once interior and exterior.60

The Glass House is a structure that is at once interior and

exterior and therefore can be described as an oblique space or

a structure that houses an oblique space.

To begin with, let us take the physical architecture of the Glass

House. From the outside you can see inside and from the

inside the space is vast and empty with no partitions to

segregate spaces. Jean-Ulrick Désert61 suggests that the

conditional acceptance of queer communities is predicated on

their existence within private spaces; the opposite of the Glass

House. It is acceptable for people to practice this ‘deviant’

lifestyle as long as they are not open about it. Ulrick argues

that queer communities must often choose committedly

between isolationism and publicity. Remaining a closed,

private society would reinforce the belief that it is not normal

60


Jean-Ulrick Désert is an artist, from Haiti, who has published writings on the impact of social space on the queer community.

30

and therefore wrong. Ulrick opts for a refusal of secrecy and

to, instead, turn to “openness” and liberation. As a task of

liberation, queer spaces pursue the erosion of parameters

between private and public spheres.62 The physical merging of

outside and inside, as depicted in the Glass House, translates

into a social merging of private and public.

As a subject of architectural design, the Glass House

counteracts the usual demands of domestic space, and incites

queer feeling in both its spectators and its occupants.63 The

feeling we get from the space is relative to any queer feeling

that is initiated by an exposure to something strange. The

Glass House seems to go against all traditional domestic values

(values of privacy, of order, of structure) in one’s life that the

‘house’ is supposed to provide; the house provides illusions of

stability and security64. The Glass House, however, provides a

way of life that carries the possibility of constant surveillance

and therefore can give no relief from an unrelenting self-

consciousness at potentially being watched. This type of

exposure runs parallel with an exposure that comes from how

you live your life and inhabit space if it isn’t the decided

‘normative’ way.

62

Erin Brown, ‘We Are Everywhere: Queer Space and the Art of Living in Glass Houses’ <http://www.sfu.ca/sca/global/pdf/Erin_Brown_WeAreEverywhere.pdf> [accessed 29 January 2013] p.3. 63

ibid., p.2. 64

‘A house constitutes a body of images that give mankind proofs or illusions of stability.’ Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) p. 17.

The distinctive characteristic of the Glass House that makes it a

queer space is the absence of matter.

‘It is in the domain of the “home” and interior design that we

may be most convincingly taught that commercial products

and their normative arrangements are able to infuse one’s life

with true experiential delight.’65 This established domestic

culture or way of life is ubiquitous across Western civilization

unaided by the constant barrage of advertisements for ‘things’

to fill our space with. Sara Ahmed considers this type of

consumerism as human attachment to “Happy Objects”, the

most salient of these pertaining to notions of familial closeness

and the happy effects of biological reproduction. Those not

capable of or desiring biological reproduction are therefore

‘alienated from the promise of happiness.’66 My Auntie, for

example, who doesn’t have children, suffers from this

segregation to the point where avoidance to large familial

gatherings is habitual. She, although not practicing ‘deviant’

sexualities herself, is well embedded within the queer

community.

65

Erin Brown, ‘We Are Everywhere: Queer Space and the Art of Living in Glass Houses’ <http://www.sfu.ca/sca/global/pdf/Erin_Brown_WeAreEverywhere.pdf> [accessed 29 January 2013] p.6. 66

Ahmed argues that the link between objects of happy affect and biological reproduction constitutes a degree of marginalisation to alternative sexual communities that is complete in its segregation. Sara Ahmed, The Affect Theory Reader (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2010) p.41.

31

In the space left by detachment from normative happy objects,

there is a vastness and a space of questioning for the

“affective alien”. To think about Sara Ahmed’s “affective alien”

we can swap ‘disorientation’ for ‘alienation’. Alienation, like

disorientation, is a feeling we all relate to. We can think about

alienation in terms of happy objects, ‘when we feel pleasure

from such objects, we are aligned; we are facing the right way.’

These objects are culturally rumoured to bring happiness to

the beholder so when we aren’t turned towards these objects

we create an ‘anxious narrative of self-doubt’67; why are we

alienated from this shared happiness?

The feminist is an affect alien: she might even kill joy

because she refuses to share an orientation toward

certain things as being good because she does not find

the objects that promise happiness to be quite so

promising.68

Our social orientation towards objects holds the key to how

we live. To counteract this alienation people aim to orientate

themselves towards these objects, to stay within the linear

lines. This extracts from “happiness” all aspects of spontaneity

and organic development, favouring a linear transaction

67

Sara Ahmed, The Affect Theory Reader (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2010) p.37. 68

Ibid., p.39.

between object and individual, and envisaging a standardised

communication of the happy effect.69

The move away from spontaneity to a more linear way of

being and thinking takes away any kind of excitement from

life. Everything is predetermined and grounded by these

values, we allow ourselves to stay within the normative

majority because of the security and stability it brings. It takes

mental determination to disassociate oneself with these

cultural preconceptions; similar to the experience I had when

forging illusions of stability inside the Glass House.

69

Erin Brown, ‘We Are Everywhere: Queer Space and the Art of Living in Glass Houses’ <http://www.sfu.ca/sca/global/pdf/Erin_Brown_WeAreEverywhere.pdf> [accessed 29 January 2013]

32

‘Domestic space acts as a particularly insidious harbour for

these types of objects’70 but not in the Glass House. This space

is not made for elaborate decoration or objects pretending to

be useful. In the Glass House I am the contents of the work,

there is no refuge from one’s exposure to the surrounding

landscape and no need to indulge in objects. Normally we fill

our space with objects so we feel less on show and can

alleviate attention onto something else. In a strange way we

are more proud of our possessions than we are of ourselves.

Returning to my family home for Christmas last year, the main

topic of conversation was my parents’ investment in a ‘wood-

burning stove’, followed by numerous tours to the living room

where it was on display. In actual fact, they had bought a size

too big and my brother spent most of the winter season in his

swimming trunks when inside.

Thinking about the relationship between the occupant and the

architecture, the Glass House, as I experienced, can cause a

person to feel completely dominated by the space. Bollnow

describes our relationship with night space as the ego coming

second to the space; the same can be applied in this

relationship. The world obtains a 360-degree angle of not only

the exterior structure but also of the interior living space,

which can be oppressing. However, the occupant also has a

360-degree view of the world, they face the world. The sense

70

Erin Brown, ‘We Are Everywhere: Queer Space and the Art of Living in Glass Houses’ <http://www.sfu.ca/sca/global/pdf/Erin_Brown_WeAreEverywhere.pdf> [accessed 29 January 2013] p.7.

of disorientation at one moment can turn to liberation with

the next.

The exposure to outside space imposes upon the

occupant the sense of being a flâneur; the occupant is

on the outside of society, even from an interior

situation. It is queer precisely because “it is at once

private and public”.71

It is the task of liberation to open spaces up into the public

sphere and not create secular units. Instead of thinking about

the constant pressure of the outside attempting to infiltrate

your personal space and private life you should embrace it.

People, before and after the experience, were responding to

this project in a very apprehensive and almost shocked

manner, exclaiming, “Weren’t you frightened?” In actual fact it

took a surprisingly short amount of time to acclimatise myself

to the situation. By the end of the experience, the space and

my routine began to feel normal.

71

Ulrick, 1997, p.21 sited in Erin Brown, ‘We Are Everywhere: Queer Space and the Art of Living in Glass Houses’ <http://www.sfu.ca/sca/global/pdf/Erin_Brown_WeAreEverywhere.pdf> [accessed 29 January 2013] p.8.

33

DWELLING HISTORIES

My structured upbringing was reflected in the space we

inhabited. I resided in two houses; the first in the years prior to

and during my primary school education, and then moving to a

town house, a decision orientated by the desire of my parents

to be in the catchment area of a good school. This upbringing

directly contrasts to my way of living after leaving my familial

home, since moving out I have lived in eight different domestic

spaces72.

The experience of constantly relocating and adapting to

different spaces brings with it an independence and greater

certainty of the self. Henri Lefebvre describes space as a ‘social

morphology’. Space, he emphasizes, ‘is to lived experience

what form itself is to the living organism.’73 We need space in

order to grow and by frequently experiencing diverse spaces

or environments you remain the only unchanging variable and

therefore are not influenced by ‘the familiar’ or familiar

surroundings. It is about being outside of your comfort zone,

outside of the linear lines. Experience of the other gives a

better understanding of the self.

72

See ‘Dwelling Histories: Visual Address Book [1990-2013]’ 73

Lefebvre, Henri, ‘Social Space’, in The Production of Space, trans., by Donald Nicholson-Smith (Oxford UK & Cambridge USA: Blackwell, 1991) p.94.

The experience of living in Lisbon has a profound effect on my

way of thinking. The current economic climate meant that

there was a lot about Lisbon that was ‘unfinished’. There were

a lot of ‘unfinished’ spaces. This meant these spaces were

empty and not in use, which is problematic when thinking of

the many people living without a home and on the streets. As

Bachelard aptly puts it ‘life quickly wears it down. And besides,

for one ‘living’ shell, how many dead ones there are! For one

inhabited shell, how many are empty!’ This can be used to

describe the relationship between the amount of people

without a home and the number of abandoned houses without

inhabitants. The Glass House can be described as an empty

shell, whereby the potential of human inhabitance is

inconceivable to most.

34

Dwelling Histories: Visual Address Book [1990-2013]74 6 Bertie Close, Swinstead, Grantham, Lincolnshire, NG33 4PW

17 North Road, Bourne, Lincolnshire, PE10 9AP

J45 Rootes Residences, Gibbet Hill Road, University of Warwick, CV4 7AL

1 Brudenell Grove, Leeds, West Yorkshire, LS6 1HP

5 Ashville Terrace, Leeds, West Yorkshire, LS6 1LZ

74

Source: Google Maps Street View

4 Providence Avenue, Leeds, West Yorkshire, 2HN

Calçada do Desterro 12, Lisboa, Portugal 2715-311

Rua do Barão 27, Lisboa, Portugal 2715-311

6 Buckingham Mount, Leeds, West Yorkshire, LS6 1DN

The Old Walled Garden, Grimsthorpe Castle, Bourne, Lincolnshire, PE10 OLT

35

Considering the effects of disorientation, individually and

collectively, in our modern society has led me to the

conclusion that the feeling of disorientation is intrinsic in

someone’s social and personal development. Reiterating the

notion I previously stated that experience of the ‘other’ gives a

better understanding of the ‘self’. The notion of

‘disorientation’, as shown to be a result of the loss of one’s

‘orientation’, is what I physically experienced in the Glass

House and what people feel as a reaction to something that

causes them to leave their original “world”.

Using the term ‘oblique’ to describe the Glass House as a space

means it is in a constant state of disorientation. As are the

people living in Ahmed’s ‘oblique world’. In this sense the

‘oblique space’ and ‘oblique world’ are more liberated. They

are already at a slantwise angle and therefore are free from

the continual pressure to stay within the linear lines, as are the

people that inhabit these spaces or worlds. There is no need

for anxiety over becoming the “affective alien” or in having

desires pre-determined by the media or by consumer culture.

This thesis is the product of an experience and because of this

the intentions and outcomes were never certain. The journey I

have undergone as a person can be mirrored in my dwelling

histories. The most profound experiences being those of living

in ‘foreign spaces’, foreign in terms of another country and in

terms of unconventional or ‘strange’. This project has

progressed organically, from thinking about my own body

occupying space to considering the occupation of a social

body.

DISCLAIMER

Throughout this document I have made references to links

between the Glass House experience and the observations of

the homeless I made in Lisbon. It has to be acknowledged that

for all the slight challenges I faced during this experience, they

face every day in a much more aggressive way. I always knew I

had a home to go back to and that this was a temporary

experience.

36

37

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ahmed, Sara Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2006) Ahmed, Sara The Promise of Happiness (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2010) Ahmed, Sara, ‘Happy Objects’, in The Affect Theory Reader (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010) 29-44. Web. Bachelard, Gaston The Poetics of Space, trans., by Maria Jolas (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) Baudrillard, Jean The System of Objects, trans., by James Benedict (London: Verso, 2005) Berger, John Ways of Seeing (Penguin Classics, 2008) Betsky, Aaron Queer Space: Architecture and Same-Sex Desire (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1997) Betsky Aaron, ‘Architecture in a Floating World’, in Bartlett International Lecture Series, Christopher Ingold Auditorium, UCL, 12 December 2012 17.30 – 19.00 Bollnow, O. F. Human Space, trans., by Christine Shuttleworth (London: Hyphen Press, 2011) Brown, Erin ‘We Are Everywhere: Queer Space and the Art of Living in Glass Houses’ <http://www.sfu.ca/sca/global/pdf/Erin_Brown_WeAreEverywhere.pdf> [accessed 29 January 2013]

Condorelli, Celine; Pavilion Artist Talk, Roger Stevens Building, 1 November 2012, 18.00-19.30 Cardew, Cornelius ‘The Tiger’s Mind’ <http://www.cacbretigny.com/inhalt/pictures/tigersmind/partitioncardUKTiger.pdf> [accessed 2 November 2012] (Désert, Jean-Ulrick) Artist Website <http://www.jeanulrickdesert.com/> [Accessed 8 February 2013] Heidegger, Martin, Basic Writings: Martin Heidegger, ed., by David Farrell Krell (London: Routledge, 2011) Kristeva, Julia, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, trans., by Leon S. Roudiez. (New York: Columbia UP, 1982) Lefebvre, Henri, ‘Social Space’, in The Production of Space, trans., by Donald Nicholson-Smith (Oxford UK & Cambridge USA: Blackwell, 1991) Le Feuvre, Lisa, ‘Failure’, Documents from Contemporary Art, (London: The Whitechapel Gallery, 2010) Mawer, Simon, The Glass Room (Great Britain: Abacus 2010) Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. Phenomenology of Perception (Psychology press: 2002)

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Schweder, Alex and Bayar, Lamis; ‘Practice Architecture: rehearse here, perform everywhere’ Duveen Galleries, Tate Britain, Friday 1 February 2013, 18.30-21.30 Yrjö Kukkapuro ‘One Family One Room’, in Apartamento, Issue #09 ed., by unkown Wheeler, Dennis sited in “Experiment and Progress” Failure, ed., by Lisa Le Feuvre (London: Whitechapel Gallery, 2010) EVENTS ‘Forthcoming Feminisms: Gender, Activism, Politics and Theories’, Weetwood Hall, Leeds, 26 October 2012 9.00 – 17.00 ‘Performing Architecture’ Late at Tate Britain, Tate Britain, Friday 1 February 2013, 18.00 – 22.00 ‘FEMINISM-CURATING-ARCHIVE: Roundtable Discussion’ Parkinson Building, University of Leeds, 8 March 2013, 13.00 – 16.30 Phoebe Eustance ARTF 3080 Practice in Context