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Tightness&Architecture:OnSpace,Fourier,andO’Hara(AHiddenDialogue)NicholasHauckandFanWu

InmidsummerIwatchedTonstartssbandht,apsychedelicrockbandoftwoFloridabrothers,

playaminiatureshowinYonge-DundasSquare.

Yonge-Dundas Square is Toronto’s answer to Times Square: massively commercialized;

pumpedtothegillswithads;atouristvistaofthemoneyedmonoculture'sglossyaesthetic.I'dalwaysbeenaspaced-outboywhenitcametothinkingaboutplaceswithpeopleinside

them;thearchitectural losesgroundwherethepsychologicalexertsitsclaimtomyattention.Only when architecture fails as a space for community—when it's completely, unabashedlyappropriatedtothedemandsofcapital—doesitbringitselftobearonmythought.

At theconcert,acrowdof twenty-somethings flankedtheband,apredictableaudienceof

skateboardersandsecond-genhippies.Butthehumbleshowsoongatheredacriticalmassofitsownandbecamea thoroughfare fornon-hipsterpopulations.Suburbanmomsanddadsheldhandswhiletheirdaughtersbreakdanced.Atownsquareschizophrenicdidn'tstopmonologuingbutstartedboppingtothebeat.Rovingteensdroppedtheirboredfrontsandnoddedtheirheadstothescuzz,comingaliveatleastfromneckup.HadIbeensojadedbythepoliticallandscapethatthemereminglingofunlikesocialrealmscausedathrillofhopetorunthroughme?Dothese

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littlemomentsofecstatictogethernessmeananythingbeyondthemomentoftheirhappening--needthey?

Sofar,thisisbutaprovocationtothinkaboutpublicspace--andperhaps,givenmytraining,

toextendthinkingthroughliterature.(EventheMcDonald'sofmychildhood,withitscheapredplasticanditspretenselessdinginess,isnowcoveredwiththeexposedwood&stainlesssteelveilofmoney).Asimpledesireofmine:forpublicspacetoseduceusintodifferencebothastheproximitytothosewhoseformsoflifeareforeigntous,andastheexcavationofperceptionspriorlyunseen,unfeltintheself.

You’rebreathingsoslowlythatthewindisyourmoodKnowingthereasonyoucryinyoursleepDreamusaseasonofthetimeswillweweepItgoes:“Idon’twanttoliveinthisanymore”Ihearacalling,amove,atune,awindowtoaworld-Tonstartssbandht,"Opening"

What might it mean to counterpoint built, architectural spaces with my own inner

psychological architectures? What is it that makes functioning architecture—as opposed tofailingarchitecture—establishacerebraldominanceoverthephysicalworld?I’mfascinatedbythe idea thatwhen thingswork, they are, or become, invisible. Canonebecomeawareof aperfected architecture, a seamlessly functioning system? I’m speaking in ideals, still… I’vetouchedupon,oratleastgesturedtoward,thepotentialseductionofspace.Butwhattomakeofthisdesirepremisedonarchitecture’sfailure?Whattoolsandprocesses—andtheirmisuse—giverisetorecognizablyprovocativespaces?Needawindowtoaworldbefracturedorscoredformetoseethroughit?Formetoseeit?Ifso,thenisthedesirefortheblemishtogoawaythatwhichbringsusbacktothepsychologicalvacuum?IwishIcouldlivebyFrankO’Hara’sadvicewhenhespeaksofthearchitectureofapoem:

Asformeasureandothertechnicalapparatus,that’sjustcommonsense:ifyou’regoingtobuyapairofpantsyouwantthemtobetightenoughsoeveryonewillwanttogotobedwithyou.There’snothing metaphysical about it. Unless, of course, you flatteryourselfintothinkingthatwhatyou’reexperiencingis"yearning."

Tightenough.Myhabits,thethingsthatIwearonmybodyandthatwearonmybody—this

shirt,thewindfromthisafternoon,acommentfromafriend,thegazeofapasser-by,thewallsofthisroom—thesethingshavetofitenoughfordesiretoentertheroom.Tooloose,toofar,tooforeign,andwhat?Desire,andwith itexperienceandtheself,slip intothedistance.Tootight,toouninterrupted,tooenclosing,thenwhat?Asphyxiation.

One of the most asphyxiated early 19th century French thinkers on social space, Charles

Fourier, attempted to breathe new life into the architectures of eros. He imagined spacesstructuredequallybyarespectfortheother—whichassumesdistanceanddifferentiation—and

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cooperation with the other—which implies acceptance of the other, and even (a limited)selflessness.TheliberationofindividualpassionsunderpinsFourier’sutopianprojecttothepointwherearchitecturalstructures—social,psychological,material—actinaccordancewithlibidinaldrives.Workbecomespleasure.Repressionispresumablynonexistent.Allhumanneedsaremet.Themetaphysical“yearning”thatO’Hara’spoetryrejectsbecomesanon-issue.

ThesestructuresgettheirnamefromtheGreekwordforamilitaryunit (phalanx)andthe

Frenchwordmonastère.ThisetymologybringstomindPlato’sdualidealcities:onebasedontherulership of enlightened individuals whose lives are devoted to study and scholarship; andanother based on the rulership of elite guardians. In these terms, how can I reframe myexperience of Yonge-Dundas Square, ruled as it is by elite corporations who’re no longerguardiansofpeople,butofcapital?

Fourier’spants,though,weretootight.InTheArcadesProject,WalterBenjaminwritesabout

“thedialecticoftheexample:althoughtheexampleasmodelispedagogicallyworthless,ifnotdisastrous, the gestic example can become the object of a controllable and progressivelyassimilableimitation,onethatpossessesthegreatestsignificance.”Thus,Fourier’s“hedonisticmaterialism”asmodel isdestinedtofail.But ispoetry,asgesticspace,acounterpointtothefailureofthemodel?Canpoetryprovidethespaceforalively,brainyerotics?Iwanttotalkaboutthe palatable architecture of thinking in book/printed form and the idea of pedagogy in thegesturalsense.AsinBarthes’HowtoLiveTogether,wherehedefinesidiorrythmyastherealandimagined structurations required for moments of ecstatic togetherness to arise. Do thesemoments need meaning to persist beyond their here and now? They don’t need to carrysignificancebeyondtheirtime,butmeaningisn’ttheonlythingtoendureorlinger.

Indeed,perhapspleasureorecstatictogethernessdawdlesjustmostinthosepocketswhere

meaninghasabsconded. IcouldquoteBarthes’sessayonFourierforever,but I’llselectsomechoicemorsels:

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ThemotivebehindallFourieristconstructionisnotjustice,equality,etc.,itispleasure...Fourier’sspeechisitselfsensual,itprogressesineffusiveness,enthusiasm,throngsofwords,verbalgourmandise(neologismisaneroticact,whichiswhyheneverfailstoarousethecensure of pedants)... [For Fourier, we ought to] vary pleasureincessantly(nevermorethantwohoursatthesametask),andfromallthesesuccessivepleasuresmakeonecontinuouspleasure.

I’dwagerthatBarthesisasmuchseducedbythearchitecturesofFourier’ssyntaxasheisby

the material specificity of his ideas. There can be no reinvention for imagined physicalarchitectureswithout a corresponding innovation in the languageof expressionwithin thosearchitectures.

We might say, with the weight of great speculation, that what I experienced during the

concert’stwohoursofpleasurewaspleasureasdiscontinuitycarvedoutoftheneuroticpoliticalarchitectureofDundasSquare,which,byceaselesslytellinguswhattodesire,assignsusakindofdesiresqueezeddryofpleasure.Thewindowtoaworld—thewindowtoanotherstructurationofsociety—showsthefailureofexistingarchitecturesthatstealthilyinvisibilizethemselvesduetoourhabituationtotheirexistence.

InFourier’sworld,desiremightbeconstruedasacalculation;thiswouldrhymewithO’Hara’s

common-sensemeasurementstowardlettingdesirein.ButFourier’scalculationhastheeffectofexilingtheconsiderationsofindividualdesirebyoutfittingthemintheschematicsofcollectivedesire. Repression must, of necessity, be nonexistent: the subpsychological realm of theunconscious is asmuch a threat to the social space of Fourier as themetaphysical is to theindividualspaceofO’Hara.

And precisely on the point of repression’s nonexistence, Barthes notes: politics is what

foreclosesdesire,savetoachieve itexactly intheformofneurosis;politicalneurosisor,moreexactly,theneurosisofpoliticizing.

It’sonthenoteofthisconjunctionofdesireandthepoliticalthatI’dbegmyselftodwellon,

anddwellwithin,myBenjaminfetish,orto locateformyselfwhatBenjamin’spoint is inthatsentenceofhisIquoted,toopenupformyselfwhathemeansbygesture.BecauseI’mcertainlyattractedtoFourier’sversionoftheworldandcuriousaboutthecritiquesagainstits“hedonisticmaterialism.”A utopianist’s pants are inevitably too tight: it’s this tightness that assures thecogencyofavisionofutopia(autopiabeingsomethingtheorizableatthestructurallevelofasociety,notatthelevelofwillsanddesiresrunningamok.)

I’m torn between commenting on “repression must, of necessity, be nonexistent,” and

respondingtomysupplicationtodwellin&withinaBenjaminiangesturalfetishforgesture.IthinkanotherpoetwillhelpmeworkthroughwhatI’vesaid,followedbyacollectiveunzippingwithFourier.ThisisfromAndrewMcMillan’sPlaytime:

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…laterhewillaskmehowmanytattoosIhave whetherIhaveoneonmybum whetherhecanlooktoverifymydenial suchinnocence suchfreedominaskingforthebodyofanother Ipointhimbacktothepage therewillbetimeforhim forthemalltolearnofthebody’scurveintoawkwardnesstofindtheirwayintotherulesandlessonstheywillcometoknowbyheart...

InMcMillan’spoem,thespeaker’srefusalcanbeseenasagesticexample,thedenial that

emboldenstheother—inhisinnocentfreedom—toaskforthebodytoberevealed.Thesecondgesture,pointingtothepage,ismorecavalierinitspedagogicaltone,eveniftherulesandlessonsareproductsofself-discovery.Assimilationandimitationaretheoperators.EchoingmywagerofBarthes’twinseductionbyFourier’sarchitectureandhisarchitecturalsyntax—andI’mallinonmybet—bypointingback to thepage (the text, thescript, language) thebody learns it isdelicateandimperfect.I’dsaythisiswhenakindoflivedknowing—asopposedtoaninnocentacting—openstotheother,ortheother’strace,thetattooedassrevealedwithoutasking.Thecurveintoawkwardnesssuggestsanabandonmentoftheidealoridealizedself(Apollo,Form)totheerosof theother. I’d liketositwiththis ideaofcurvingtowardor intodesirealongwithFourier’s description of groups formed by attraction and their corresponding geometricalsymbols. Here’s an excerpt from Fourier’s The Theory of Passionate Attraction, and thearchitectures/symbolsofthegroupsformedbywhathecalls“passionateattraction”:

Atalltimesandinallplacespassionateattractionhastendedandwilltendtowardthreegoals:

1. Towardluxuryorthegratificationofthefivesenses.2. Toward the formation of groups and series of groups, the establishment of

affectiveties.3. Toward the coordination of the passions, character traits, instincts, and

consequentlytowarduniversalunity.…SecondAim:GroupsandSeries.Attractiontendstoformfourtypesofgroups. TYPE SYMBOL

Groupoffriendship Circle

Major Groupofambition,corporativetie Hyperbola

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Groupoflove EllipseMinor

Groupoffamily Parabola I’dliketofocusonthegroupofloveanditscorrespondingsymbol,theellipse.Butfirst,letus

notice how all four symbolswith their varying arcs and bends stand in stark contrast to theangular architecture of fourierist buildings (the phalanstères). Is this geometric discordrepresentativeofwhat Isayabove,whereFourierexiles individualdesiretotherealmof thecollective?Wheretheflexureanddeflectionofidiosyncraticappetitesismadetoalignwiththesociallinear,getinlinewiththeothers?

Mathematicaldefinitionoftheellipse:acurveinaplanesurroundingtwofocalpointssuch

thatthesumofthedistancestothetwofocalpointsisconstantforeverypointonthecurve.Formethisdoesn’tsatisfyloveformedbyattraction.It’stooneat.LikeIsay,itseemsidealized;aspacevacatedofrepression.

The ellipse as Rhetorical device:To remove from a phrase awordwhich is grammatically

needed, butwhich is clearly understoodwithout having to be stated, often used to give theexpressionmoreliveliness.Theomissionofwords—likethedenialofshowingwhatispresumablyanintimatesymbolonthebum—becomessourceofvigor,drive.Adesiredunderstandingbasedonwhatisnotthere.Thisismyfetishforthegesture,itisdesireperformedbutnotfulfilled,andmaybetheonlywaytorealizedesireisthroughaperformancewhichisbothdenialandpossibility(forimitation,assimilation).Thecurvedspaceofthegesture,anditsplasmicarchitecture,let’ssay,canonlybe,orisbest,exploredinpoetry.Andsowhatcorrespondencescanwethinkofbetweenreimaginedspacesand(new)poeticarchitectures?Or,torespondtomyowncallthatthecurvedspaceofthegesturecanbestbeexploredinpoetry...

I. Isitatthefootofhisbed,thebedofthisdoctorwhohasbeenstraightplaguing

my mind. I’d been having problems with my vision, like there are feathers of lightscatteredthroughwhatIsee.Sittingbyhisfeet,too,Inotice—thoughwe’veknowneachother for tenyears—anewforcefulnessbehindhisblinking,as thoughhe (whoworksthirty-hourshiftsatthehospital)weresnatchingatsleepinintervalsofmilliseconds,orrelyingonthepneumaticmotionofhislidstokeephimawake.Laterthatnightwemakesomething approximating sex; but what remains in my mind are the flickered-backshutters of his lids, disclosing to me an exhaustion he’s too proud to admit, takinghavockedshelteragainsthisapartment’sfluorescence,invitingmetotakehislidsintomyarmsandclosethemasonlywe,twoboyswhometeachotherinthequasarheatofouradolescence,mightdreamofclosure…

II. I’ve met you in the apartments, changerooms, and alleyways of desire. Inanonymouspublicspacesandinthecoldbottomsofundrunkcoffee.Indelayedsubways,footnotesandmarginsofmyfavoritebooks,and intherecycling justbeforesomeonetookitaway.You’veshowedupinmid-weekcasserolesandI’vespottedyou,morethanonce,inthecondimentsaisle.Forabriefperiod,youwateredthesucculentsbeforethey

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went plastic. Thosepencils youbrought? Still sharp as ever.As a tourist, I rememberbrushingupagainstyou.Asavisitor,itwasahandshake,orratheraformalembrace,thatcuedthethoughtI’vemetyousomewherebefore,butthespaceisnotthesame.CanIholdyouanywaysandmakeupforwhatwasn’tsaid?

III. Minorgroupoflove.Adam...youwhowerethefirstman,mindyounotmyfirstman butwho's counting, but the firstmanwho stoppedmemidway to the barroombathroomtosay,inthatnervouswayIshouldknowbetterthantoascribetoWASPboysbutdon't,tosay"haveIevertoldyou‘Iloveyou?’"Itbearsrepeating,yourphrase:"haveI ever told you I love you?" Have I ever made my love for you known—or, hearddifferently,haveIeverutteredthatinnocentpacketofwords"Iloveyou"?ItisawayofsayingIloveyouallthewhiledenyingthephrasethenakedemptinessofcontentthatisitsforce.Istillremembertheheartygreenofthehallwayinwhichyousaidlovebynotsayingit,andthebackwashtasteofbaloneyinmymouth.Ican’trememberwhatIsaidbacktoyou(anellipsistoprotecttheidealofyourspeechinitsregisterofdisclosingitsownwithdrawal),butitwassomethingtothetuneofofcourse:wasitofcourseyoulovemeorofcourseIloveyou?

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IV. PaulAlamásy’skitschphotoofacoupledancingunderthePontauChangewhileanimperial“N”hauntsthebackground.ThisiswhereIcomewhenParisiswet.Idiscernthebridgesarchesfromthememoriesofarcheddancingbodies,thenavoice:“Doyoucomehereoften?”Thebridge’sglowmakeshimlooklikehe’sonthesetofaCaravaggioporno:headforevertilteduptoangeliclight,darkeyesgazingdown,mouthagapejustenough,loosegreyclothstandinginforashirtfallingoffarightshoulder,thindarktanglesofhairinvadingaporcelainface.“I’mFabrice,”hesays.Workswithhishands.Wesitontheedgeandhangourfeet,almosttouchingthewater,thetableau’spenultimatesketch.Hetastesfamiliar,notexperientiallybutphylogenetically.Mytonguesketchestheshapeofhiscity;mymindbuildsadiagrammatichistoryofhisevolution.Onthestones,ourhumid imprint.Ablueprint forthenextdance?Napoleonic fraternitéat itsbest?Whocameherefirst,often?

V. Thedenialthatemboldenstheothertoaskforhisbodytoberevealed.Whatistheprecisecurvatureofakiss,afuck?It’ssublimetobetogetherandyet—youcanbegforsextobecommunion,butwhat it is is twopeoplegoingdownoneescapehatchthatholdswithintwotunnelsleadingintotwocompletelydistinctinnerworlds.Youcanaskashardasyoulikeinyourmosturgentvoiceforabodytoberevealed,butallyoudoistunnelbackintoyourownfantasy.You’reheadedfurtherandfurtherfromeachother,undertheillusionyou’vegonetothesameplace,whenallyou’vesharedisthefactofanescapehatch.


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