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# ARCHITECTURAL THEORIES /// Dislocative Architecture: An essay by Ed Keller about the work of Arakawa and Gins

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photo: Site of Reversible Destiny – Yoro, 1993-95

After writing myself an essay about the work of Arakawa and Madeline Gins that I claimed, could be read in a celebration of Spinoza’s philosophy (Architectures of Joy), here is another essay, much more pushed towards something important: It is transcripted and extracted from a discussion between Arakawa, Madeline Gins, Johannes Knesl and Ed Keller. This discussion also involves Greg Lynn and Jesse Reiser but in order to remain coherent without strictly copying the conversation that can be found in the very beautiful book Reversible Destiny: We Have Decided Not To Die, I selected fragments of Ed Keller’s discourse approaching the notion of dislocation, subjectivisation, time’s nonlinearity and the beautiful savageness of this architecture:

For Arakawa and Gins, architecture assumes an unavoidable and definitive complicity in the structuring of a “person” as a complex assortment of devices that inflect the behaviors, beliefs, and perceptions, indeed, the totality of a subject. Within the model Arakawa and Gins employ, architecture participates in this structuring of being “human”. Their work proposes an alternative practice that identifies restrictions of practical and imaginative freedom and deflects these restrictions by using specifically architectural devices. Arakawa and Gins explicitly explore ethics, and power, through architecture; their work suggests a relation between the alternative ethics they propose and the architectural tactics they develop. Their work tests two issues: (1) the ethical question and the implied condition that it could arise “naturally” from a reconceptualization of habit and repetition (in architecture); and (2) the use of specific instrumentalities architecturally and/or perceptually to organize and alternative ethics and by extension an alternative ethics and by extension an alternative subject.

The value of work Arakawa and Gins have produced lies perhaps, not in the essentialization of specific techniques, but in the extraction from these techniques of a general set of principles that produce and depend on a redefinition of what constitutes body and perception.

Arakawa and Gins suggest that the relation between the practice of certain techniques and the emergence of an ethology may be tied together very closely; this relation operates on both the highly local scale of the individual’s proprioceptive sequence (through even the smallest element in a room, the scale of the coffee cup) and the urban scale they currently extend their work to. They formally and programmatically engage fields of strong probability –within a carefully delimited sociotemporal mise-en-scene- that produce subjects; they intend to breed an ethological practice.

It is suggested that through this organization of transitory cessations of habit a transformative subject will emerge. In contrast to the engines of discipline identified by Michel Foucault and others, we find here a much more fluid teleology in service of a transgressive ethics. Not in service of a reintegrative strategy, either socially or on the level of the individual, but in a quest to invent new selves constantly. As they theorize the body and the subject, Arakawa and Gins project a human who does not submit to a dialectical subdivision. The inchoate no longer means “outside of language” or “unformed”. An inchoateness of the body becomes a cessation of habit- becomes a processible and developmental state.

photo: Site of Reversible Destiny – Yoro, 1993-95

Cessation of habit critically deployed, Arakawa and Gins propose, leads to humans constantly engaged in the production, the living, of Spinozist “active affections”. My inclination is to ascribe to this condition the term “savage” –a savage practice. A savage architecture could encompass the consideration of not just form, but program, social positioning, conditions of manufacturing, and the like. It could deal explicitly with the limits of conditions for the capacities available to whatever medium one is working within, be it architecture, cinema, painting, music, politics, and so on. Inextricable from a savage practice would be an intimate knowledge of and working with a radical ethics. Clearly the work of Arakawa and Gins is within this realm. It takes itself neither too seriously )for it must be ludic) nor too lightly (for the continuation of the human race hangs in the balance, in the face of such utter atrocities as Hiroshima and Auschwitz). The savage practice is in alignment with a critical will –with an intelligent, cunning, benevolent Dionysian frenzy.

photo: REVERSIBLE DESTINY LOFTS – MITAKA

Ed Keller: One of the most important considerations in dealing with architecture on this level, and which I think Arakawa and Gins do, is questioning the sequencing of program. This is how we can engage the ethical question –in terms of being inchoate, in terms of madness, in terms of the absolute destabilization of the subject that we’ve been talking about. We expect that for the work that Arakawa and Gins are producing to be taken to its extreme, for it to work –in the way that they’re intending- the subject is removed from a linear perception of time. The subject is removed from language. And the subject is removed from proprioceptive sequence. So I would extend the notion of inchoateness to not only being able to represent oneself in language and time but also being able to constitute oneself as body, as perception in time. The ethical question comes into play because the destabilization of the subject that we would understand –through, say, Jacques Lacan- as a threat is not something that Arakawa and Gins are concerned with. Their work, a kind of savage practice would generate an absolute madness, and conventional wisdom would not be willing to accept that as something reasonable. However the savagery, or madness, that they project ties in to what someone like Norman Bryson would find coming out of the philosophers Nishitani and Nishida, in relationship to Mahayana Buddhism’s tenet of Sunyata. The “other” is not viewed as a hostile force. Bryson posits an ethics that would see its own constitution through potentiality, not as a violent propagation of will, but as a much more affirmative and light practice. It’s important to understand the intention not only of Arakawa and Gins but also of people like Tschumi through this kind of lens. The dislocation of the subject that we normally would consider “hostile” –when we think of a terrain that’s so difficult to navigate that people who visit Site of Reversible Destiny – Yoro, 1993-95, actually fall down and break their legs, for example –becomes something different when it’s viewed through this alternative lens. I’m not suggesting that we should break people’s legs, but coming from the perspective of a mountain climber, I’ve climbed and broken my leg. It didn’t stop me from climbing again. Arakawa’s response to questions about the park is that people ski, they break their legs, so why should we keep people out of the park.

BIOSCLEAVE HOUSE

I wonder if any of these architects (Eisenman, Koolhaas, Tschumi and Holl) think that it’s important not to die? It’s certainly something that Arakawa and Gins want to be taken seriously. And the question becomes, “What techniques are there for not dying?” I’d like to return to the point you (Johannes Knesl) made earlier that within Eastern culture a realization of this is something tied to a “soft and gentle” dislocation –to more of an internalization of the dislocation of space and spatial sequence. Thus, the question comes to mind, is it merely enough for Arakawa and Gins to suggest the possibility of a nonlinear time, to suggest the possibility of a kind of immortality? My initial response is always that it is necessary to develop the techniques, but at the same time, if one acknowledges the possibilities, then the techniques to a certain extent become internalized. I do myself believe that time does not need to be framed in a linear sense. Yet, that realization alone is not enough to enable me to move in and out of time, to become a “stuttering god”. I constantly wonder what techniques, what tactics are necessary to achieve this, to engage habit critically?

Johannes Knesl: This is obviously the most difficult issue that we are trying to deal with vis-à-vis architecture. It is usually handled in the realm of religion or something like religion.

Ed Keller: There is also a very direct moral response that Arakawa and Gins ground some of their arguments in by citing Auschwitz and Hiroshima as one motivating force for developing a utopian society that does not believe in death, that doesn’t have a graveyard. And you can make interesting correspondences to fictional ideas of utopia developed by people like Gabriel Garcia Marquez. There are certain resonances because of Marquez’s notion of the relationship to language and time that is developed in his novel One Hundred Year of Solitude. He dislocates the notion of the construction of madness, the notion of linear time, the notion of the development of character, the notion of the individual. There is a very interesting relationship to the inchoate, and one of the things that I’ve always brought to the reading of Arakawa and Gins’ work is the question of how they can take their ideas and bring them to the same level of deployment that Marques has used. What we’re looking for is a set of devices to produce an alternative subject, devices that really have a different relationship to time. Marquez’s writings –as well as Italo Calvino’s- are examples of devices, culturally and socially, that produce an alternative subject with an alternative relationship to time and faith. I do a have a faith –it’s not a religious notion- that time is not linear, and that we are not completely bounded by physicality. I would also accept as a workable possibility the fact that an ending is not the final conclusion or is not a hostile crisis.

Arakawa and Gins Madeline, Reversible Destiny: We Have Decided Not To Die. New York: Guggenheim Museum Publication, 1997.



# PHILOSOPHY /// Letter from Jean-Francois Lyotard to Arakawa and Madeline Gins

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The following letter has been written by French philosopher Jean-Francois Lyotard to Arakawa and Madeline Gins in 1997. Their answer is readable in the fantastic book Reversible Destiny: We have decided not to Die published by the Guggenheim Museum in the same year.

Dear Friends,

Could one perhaps call your antidestiny architecture “antibiography”?
Would the distribution of time between beginning and end be neutralized?
Would the possibilities reserved for childhood remain open in every circumstance? Might they even multiply? Could the body be younger at sixty years of age than at fifteen?
The body would no longer inhabit a dwelling that grew old along with it. It would no longer inhabit a dwelling that grew old along with it. It would no longer be dedicated to adapting itself to constant volumes –a door here, a chair there, an ear here, a pair of knees there. Would it space begin anew each day?
Instantaneous habits would come and go. Affectionately, energetically. Would architecture summon energy and affection to inhabit the body?
Would it be futile to build concepts? Could one write or draw through encounters. Straight from nothingness?
The three children playing hide-and-seek in this house as I ask you these questions reverse the destinies of the beds, the tables, the rooms, ignoring the assigned purposes of each. Laughter, shouts, silence, vehemence, foot-stamping, breathlessness –is this, in fact, similar to the task your architecture expects of us, dear Madeline, dear Arakawa?

Jean-Francois Lyotard
January 1st 1997

Translated from the French, by Stephen Sartarelli.

Arakawa/Gins. Reversible Detiny.New York: Guggenheim Museum Publication 1997.

Other articles/essays about Arakawa/Gins’ work
- Dislocative Architecture by Ed Keller
- Architectures of Joy by myself


# ARCHITECTURAL THEORIES /// The Modernist Ideology of a Normative Body

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Modernist Architecture is characterized by a thaumaturgic (talent of miraculously curing) ambition which would heal the “diseases” of individuals and society. Although this ambition appears as obsolete and slightly ridiculous nowadays, after several decades of post-modernism that constituted in denying any other power of architecture than a merely aesthetic one. However, my thesis, that I have been developing though a reasonable amount of articles on this blog, is that architecture does certainly own a power, but rather than the power of healing, it might rather be the power of hurting.  (see weaponized architecture)

In this regard, what appear to be the quintessential example of a set of norms and a residue of the modern ideology are the overwhelming diagrams proposed by the fascinating Architectural Graphic Standards (cf introduction cover page). Indeed, following the modern dream of an optimized built environment, those architectural documents consider a normative body –one could think of Le Corbusier’s Modulor- and advocate for an architecture that is perfectly adapted to this same body. This normative body is not an ideal body in the classical meaning of it (mostly based on aesthetic values) but can be considered as such, as it does not represent anybody’s body but rather constitutes an unreachable state of normality.
As we saw with the work of Arakawa and Madeline Gins (see my essay Architectures of Joy) , architecture can be considered within the time frame of human evolution and, this way, be designed in order to influence such evolution. The normative body of those diagrams constitute the exact opposite of Arakawa/Gins’ work that attempts to activate bodies in order to resist death. In fact, the normative ideology by choosing an oxymoronic normal ideal body as a model, refuse the very idea of the human evolution. This denial organizes a violence effectuated on the body as it makes it interact with an environment that forces it to remain the same. Such a normative environment also implies a normative behavior that implies a set of pre-defined activities relatively to each space and furniture.
One can dream (I do !) of a re-interpretation of those diagrams subverted by various activities and bodies that were not thought about by those normative documents (the coitus seems to be a good way to start them for example !).

The following documents and the first image are all extracted from the Architectural Graphic Standards. Hoboken: Wiley, 2000.


# INTERVIEWS /// Architectures of Joy: A Conversation Between Two Puzzle Creatures [Part A]

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Arakawa + Gins, Yoro Park – Site of Reversible Destiny, Gifu,1995, Photo Trane DeVore

It has been several months now that I started an oral and written conversation with Madeline Gins, co-founder with Arakawa of the Reversible Destiny Foundation that I have been evoking many times this last year (see the list of articles at the end of this post). In this matter I shamefully recommend the essay I wrote about a Spinozist interpretation of their work as an introduction to this interview for whoever is not familiar with it.
Summarizing Arakawa/Gins’ thesis in one or two sentences is a dangerous assignment as their work is infinitely more complex and as a shallow reading usually leads to a misunderstanding of this same thesis. If I nevertheless decide to try, I would say that their work explores theoretically and practically the possibility of composing an Architectural Body, which lays in the relationship created between the human body and architecture. The former being stimulated by the latter, a deep understanding of this relation informs design in order to allow the body -body here needs to be understood as a person in an absolute refusal of the Cartesian dichotomy between the mind and the “body”- to acquire an awareness of its environment and thus strengthen its internal composition. For whoever who is not satisfied with this thesis simplification -and you should not be !- I invite you to read the following interview and the various books that Arakawa and Madeline Gins wrote since the end of the 1960′s.

This interview is divided in two parts. The first one is an epistolary exchange between Madeline and myself informed by two face to face conversations. The second, that I will publish tomorrow is a discussion we luckily had in the Bioscleave House designed by Arakawa + Gins and achieved in 2008 in the Hamptons.

In the context of this interview, I would like to thanks Madeline herself, of course, but also Maurizio Bianchi Mattioli, Esther Cheung, Hiroko Nakatani, Joke Post Mac Nair and Trane DeVore.

Reversible Destiny: Architectures of Joy: A Conversation Between Two Puzzle Creatures [Part A] (read Part B)

1. Léopold Lambert: XVIIIth century French physiologist Xavier Bichat stated that life is an ensemble of functions that resist death. If we consider this axiom, death is a continuous process –and not a punctual event–whereas life is the tension between this process and a form of active resistance against it. Many people seem to believe that when you state “We have decided not to die,” you imply the killing of death. On the contrary, my understanding of your work leads me to see you as seeking to engage instead in a continuous struggle against death thanks to a relationship to be forged between the body and its direct environment. Does that appear to you as a correct assumption?

Madeline Gins: The puzzle creature known as Léopold Lambert makes a correct assumption.  Puzzle creatures need to figure out what goes on as them.  Not succeeding in figuring that out equals, by my lights, having to remain a mere mortal.  Xavier Bichat, whose death at the ripe-old age of thirty-one, from a fever that supposedly came on as a result of a bad tumble down a flight of stairs (Wikipedia entry), should most obviously be attributed to Ignorance, a much ignored leading cause of death, delivered up a useful enough rallying call [WE HAVE IN LIFE AN ENSEMBLE OF FUNCTONS THAT RESIST DEATH! or  BY PERFORMING YOUR ENSEMBLE OF FUNCTIONS YOU WILL STAVE OFF DEATH! or ACTIVELY RESIST DEATH THROUGH THE ENSEMBLE OF FUNCTIONS YOU LIVE AS!]. Unfortunately, to this day, both living and dying remain unfathomable. How can the viable—us—be kept viable?

Those composed of tissues of density—Bichat was the first person to distinguish and name bodily tissue!—have their own bases of operation–ensembles of functions– that need further looking into and, yes, further architectural guidance and support. Bichat’s statement suggests the further need, when it comes to staying alive, for large and small efforts to be made by an organism on its own behalf, for there to be a cascade of death-resisting efforts, and I conceive of the arduous task of staying alive in these same general terms.  I think back to Bichat’s great contemporary, French philosopher-psychologist Maine de Biran, who, if I remember correctly, made sure to take the environment into consideration in his explication of human effort [La Psychologie de l'Effort,1889]  Yes, Procedural Architecture prompts a puzzle creature to go about continually making an endless slew of efforts to stay viable. It also prods her to keep in sight her puzzle nature, an array of solution-defying qualities, her conundrum status.

Arakawa + Gins, Bioscleave House (Lifespan Extending Villa),East -West Section + Color scheme, Computer Rendering, 2004

Each organism that persons (Not every organism that persons will succeed in forming a person!) lives as a puzzle creature to herself/himself. How does a puzzle creature manage to walk and talk?   Or, for that matter, how does a puzzle creature nestled within the universe manage to effuse voluminously out a distinct world of ample volume, a world within which to move about?

Filmmaker Nobu Yamaoka, who has lived for an extended period of time within a work of Procedural Architecture (Mitaka Lofts, Tokyo) and has made two films about this type of architecture, Children Who Will Not Die and We, reports that each time he slept in his loft’s sphere room, he dreamt of explosions, explodings-open. This strikes me as important evidence.  Evidence of what you might ask.  Evidence of the ongoing cleaving (bioscleaving) of the puzzle creature and of the gradual exploding-out of the sentient volume (“voluming”) that is, is and is a puzzle creature’s all and everything. Evidence, then, of the Architectural Body (Definition: Body Proper plus Architectural Surround) that Arakawa and I suggest be used, instead of the body proper, as the minimal unit to be taken into consideration when trying to determine what lives as a human being.

Procedural Architecture relies on twenty or so architectural procedures that directly address, four-dimensionally of course, much of what is puzzling about human nature and the universe at large. Discoursing with, through and across human puzzles, addressing living puzzles on the brink of becoming posthuman/transhuman, this architecture is set up to bring into evidence what could otherwise most probably not have become apparent.

Procedural Architecture prompts a puzzle creature to figure out the puzzle she lives as, to make note of what in every respect happens as her. What a pity that until now the few who have been willing to try entering the puzzle to find possible solutions were mostly on their own. What an impossible task this once was, and what a different impossible task, a decidedly less impossible one, this inquiry into the daily enigma will become in an age of Procedural Architecture.

Arakawa + Gins, Reversible Destiny Lofts – Mitaka, Kitchen and Sphere Room, 2006, photo: Masataka Nakano

2. Léopold Lambert: One has to be careful not to consider the Site of Reversible Destiny – Yoro (see the first photograph) as a playground in the usual sense of the word; a place to play in for awhile. Nevertheless, I think that the word playground has to be kept for Yoro in Constant Nieuwenhuys’ sense of it, the space of the Homo Ludens who adopts a playful behavior as his (her) main occupation. This reading allows me to ask if you are interested in proposing, along with a general resistance to death, a different way of life that would primarily focus on what you call the construction of the Architectural Body?

References: We Have Decided Not To Die / Architectural Body

Madeline Gins: Architecture that presents itself procedurally to people helps them take note of their architectural bodies. Architecture as usual could not care less about the architectural body, sadly enough. Why sadly? Because each of us does form (read: co-form) a huge extended body in respect to, and as-if joining up with, what surrounds her. So that we can begin to fathom ourselves as creatures, we must at least strive for some degree of accuracy when trying to determine how far each of us extends out into the everywhere that is bioscleave. In recognizing how extensive we are, we grow more grand, less pitiful and less defeatist, and more self-reflective body-wide. Yes. Procedural Architects generally put the emphasis on the architectural body, but they also construct into their works the means for balancing out several different types of world-constituting procedures. Arakawa and I present these world-constituting procedures in a forthcoming book, “Alive Forever, Not If, But When.”

Arakawa + Gins, Isle of Reversible Destiny, Fukuoka,Computer Model, 2003

Former articles about Arakawa + Gins on the Funambulist:
- ARCHITECTURES OF JOY. A spinozist reading of Parent/Virilio and Arakawa/Gins’ architecture
- Dislocative Architecture: An essay by Ed Keller about the work of Arakawa and Gins
- Letter from Jean-Francois Lyotard to Arakawa and Madeline Gins
- The Modernist Ideology of a Normative Body


# INTERVIEWS /// Architectures of Joy: A Conversation Between Two Puzzle Creatures [Part B]

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Arakawa + Gins, Bioscleave House (Lifespan Extending Villa),2004, photo: Léopold Lambert

Today, I release the second part of the conversation I have been recently having with Madeline Gins about the Reversible Destiny Foundation co founded with Arakawa. While the first part was more an epistolary assignment, this second part is a face to face conversation at the end of a day spent a the Bioscleave House (Lifespan Extending Villa) built three years ago in the Hamptons (Long Island). I, indeed, was lucky enough to experience the constant reconfiguration of the body in order to compose an harmonious relation with architecture. We can write dozens of pages about that, but nothing really expresses it as the feeling of experiencing it with your own body. What we usually wrongly dissociate as mind and body are here fully reconciled in both an awareness of each part of our body as much as the parts of architecture itself. This experience is truly what Arakawa and Madeline Gins  conceptualized as the Architectural Body.

Once again I would like to thanks Madeline herself, Esther Cheung, Hiroko Nakatani and Maurizio Bianchi Mattioli.

Reversible Destiny: Architectures of Joy: A Conversation Between Two Puzzle Creatures [Part B] (read Part A)

3. Léopold Lambert:  Let’s consider the place we are in: Bioscleave House–Lifespan Extending Villa. I don’t think that we should hold back from using the word playground when speaking of it.  We should just attribute a particular meaning to this word, the same meaning I was getting at in my previous question (see the second question of part A).

Madeline Gins:  The term life-invention playground comes to mind.

4. Léopold Lambert: Where playing is living, not a side activity but rather a way of living in itself. Where living equals playing.

Madeline Gins: Yes.  We are playing very bravely here today within Bioscleave House– consistently being brave for hours at a time by continually not denying the convoluted and ominous mystery we live as. This house has been organized in such a way as to keep that vivid for us.

5. Léopold Lambert: You are saying, I gather, that this architecture actively triggers certain types of thought and behavior.  Then I guess it is not by chance that we both thought it would be important to finish this interview in this place.

Madeline Gins:  Yes.  This house has incorporated into it a set of architectural procedures that prompt us to hold ourselves suitably open for what can come to occur as us.  For what comes tumultuously, ‘semi-tumultuously’ and pointedly to occur as each of us.  That which moves and thinks puzzle creatures, populating the many I’s each of us brings forth, playing out in respect to particular social and physical circumstances, suggests itself (itselves!) to be through and through playful, does it not?

Arakawa + Gins, Bioscleave House (Lifespan Extending Villa),2004, photo: Léopold Lambert

6. Léopold Lambert: You are speaking to someone who has been lucky enough to experience this house, but how would you begin to describe Bioscleave House to someone who has never stepped inside it?

Madeline Gins:  As if speaking of playing in a playground could ever be compared with actually playing in one.  People should enter Bioscleave House and wholeheartedly give it a try.  We have in it, I have recently begun to claim, a new scientific device, one for determining what forms forth as us.  A structure of this nature ought to be available to everyone.  All puzzle creatures should live within Procedural Architecture, within puzzle-solving works of architecture. Designed for out-in-the-open perusing of the automaticities that run and drive a puzzle creature, works of Procedural Architecture engage this self-enigma in an active discourse about modes of operation.  Just like that, upon beginning to move about within such a work, the self-enigma, the thoroughly puzzled one, becomes able to observe and explore, and even to re-route and augment, those automatic processes and procedures that move her as a marionette and “ventriloquise” what she speaks.
I have gradually been introducing you in the course of this interview to the concept of Procedural Architecture, but now that you are within an example it, and as you begin feeling what distinguishes it from architecture as usual….  Help me convey to others how Procedural Architecture works by describing your before and after– how your experiencing of Bioscleave House brings this concept, if you permit me to pun away, home to you. We need to pool our evidence in this regard.  Prior to Procedural Architectural methodology, no method existed for collecting in place (all in one place) for review the many initiatives or trajectories through which a person constitutes (read: co-constitutes) her world, and unhurried reflection on the how and what (composed of what?) of person-environment interactions was close to impossible. It has at last become possible to study what a person forms forth as in relation to her surroundings.  For centuries, trajectories (of who knows what) and interactions — dispersals of human wherewithal– just happened and happened and happened, and that was life. Life simply went on happening to happen.  But now going forward, now that it has become possible to make a cast of (to collect in place) what happens forth as us, we can even begin to compare one moment in the stream of events with another, and that should make it possible for Procedural Architectural methodology to used to determine which surroundings, in our (Arakawa + Gins) lexicon, architectural surrounds, will be most conducive to the greatest longevity.

Arakawa + Gins, Bioscleave House (Lifespan Extending Villa),2004, photo: Léopold Lambert

7. Léopold Lambert: I was going to add that this house is a hymn to gravity. Everything here expresses a poetry of gravity in my opinion.

Madeline Gins: A hymn to the scales of action that serve up gravitational pull?  Yes, if you like. A pulling up off of that pulling down. A pulling out and in and out and in. Arakawa found it amusing to say that we make our own gravity. I see this house more as being a hymn to our species’ reconfigurability. For me, all incredible art, poetry, architecture from this moment going forward will lead an organism to reconfigure herself for the sake of viability (her own and that of others). The insanity of separatism, of individual art initiatives all going their separate ways, will end in favor of all makers striving together to figure out how to go about keeping human beings terrifically viable.
Have a look at the list of architectural procedures essential to a work of procedural architecture. We (Arakawa + Gins) derived this initial set of architectural procedures from the sixteen subdivisions of our art-science research project, The Mechanism of Meaning.  The other day,  distinguished artist-scientist and procedural architect-in-training, L. Brandon Krall, encouraging me to bring this list out into the world as a poster, put it this way:. “Everyone should have the opportunity to know about Procedural Architecture.  The Architectural Procedures Poster—what would you name this poster, I wonder – could be dropped from airplanes into every city on the planet.”

[We look at a board on which all the architectural procedures that have driven the design of this house are written. See: www.reversibledestiny.org]

Arakawa + Gins, Bioscleave House (Lifespan Extending Villa),2004, photo: Léopold Lambert

8. Léopold Lambert: What I like about the way you use the word reconfigurability is the fact that you don’t use it the same way a doctor would. We are not really talking about a state of disease that needs to be reconfigured into a normal state of health. In my understanding of the term, we are talking about a continual state of reconfiguring that never quite reaches a state of inertia–the body does not come to a state of rest.

Madeline Gins: Hold on a minute, the state of ignorance human beings subsist in has got to be reconfigured as soon as possible. I count stubborn ignorance, much of it stemming from what might be called the Being-Too-Damned-Sure-of-Oneself Syndrome, to be the leading cause of death.  All the pretending to know that goes on contributes to this major illness.   That said, the requisite reconfiguring certainly ought to go on continually. I guess I am saying that, from my standpoint, and many critical thinkers agree with me about this, physicians suffer from the same deadly disease as their patients.

9. Léopold Lambert:  Most architecture actually encourages this ignorance by serving up too much comfort.  It leaves the body in a state of lethargy rather than making it work.

Madeline Gins: Eminent evolutionary biologist, Stanley Shostak, recognizes Procedural Architecture to be our species’ first seriousattempt at devising the most suitable of all niches for itself. Thus far architects have ignored, or given scant thought to, the fact that each species has its niche and unfortunately have not sought to design that niche that could greatly prolong human life, the best of all niches that would maximally provide members of our species with a heroic means for survival.  To repeat: Think of a work of Procedural Architecture (aka Reversible Destiny Architecture) as a new scientific device (a new art-scientific device?!) that you can use for reconfiguring yourself so that can come to grasp what goes on as you and learn how to stay alive ongoingly.

Arakawa + Gins, Bioscleave House (Lifespan Extending Villa),2004, photo: Hiroko Nakatani

Artist-architect-philosopher-poet Madeline Gins, president and co-founder of Reversible Destiny Foundation, is the co-author of Architectural Body, Tuscaloosa:  University of Alabama Press, 2002 and Making Dying Illegal New York: Roof Books, 2006. Her seminal work in collaboration with Arakawa, The Mechanism of Meaning, was exhibited at the Guggenheim Museum in 1997 and published in the accompanying monograph titled Reversible Destiny: We Have Decided Not to Die, New York: Abrams, Inc., 1997. Reversible Destiny Foundation’s built architectural projects include Ubiquitous Site • Nagi’s Ryoanji • Architectural Body, Museum of Contemporary Art, Nagi, Japan, 1992-1994, the park Elliptical Field, Site of Reversible Destiny —Yoro, Japan, 1993-95, Reversible Destiny Lofts –Mitaka (In Memory of Helen Keller), Tokyo, Japan, 2006 and Bioscleave House– Lifespan Extending Villa, East Hampton, New York, 2008. The Reversible Destiny Healing Fun House in Palm Springs, CA, was featured in the RIBA Journal UK’s July/August 2011 Issue, Designing for Older People. Harvard Business Review named Reversible Destiny as one of the 20 Breakthrough Business Ideas of 2009.

Three conferences have been held on the work of Arakawa and Gins:

Arakawa and Gins: Architecture and Philosophy, University of Paris X-Nanterre, 2005; Reversible Destiny – Declaration of the Right Not to Die: Second International Arakawa + Gins Architecture + Philosophy Conference/Congress, University of Pennsylvania, Slought Foundation, 2008; AG3: The Third International Arakawa and Gins: Architecture and Philosophy Conference, Griffith University, Australia, 2010.

The work of Reversible Destiny Foundation can be found at: www.reversibledestiny.org

Procedural Architects-in-training at Reversible Destiny Foundation:
Joke Post
Maurizio Bianchi
Melissa Capista
Esther Cheung
Alex Duensing
Nathan Gerard
Anuva Kalawar
Julia Lipkins
Alan Prohm
Hayley Silverman


# GUEST WRITERS ESSAYS 17 /// Dissolving Minds and Bodies by Hiroko Nakatani

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Human Writes by William Forsythe (2005) /// Photograph by Julian Gabriel Richter

Today’s essay has been written by Hiroko Nakatani in a way that allies scientific rigorousness and the subjectivity of an architect who finds in these experiments, a way to re-introduce the notion of the body in architecture. Starting from the Spinozist assessment that body and mind cannot be separated, Hiroko then overtakes a short inventory of scientific experiments that confirms such an immanent reading of the living. As a conclusion, she quotes Shusaku Arakawa -who she knows well for having worked with him as well as Madeline Gins for two years of her life- saying that a human owns thousands of brains in and out of his (her) body. Such a manifesto is of course deeply related to the body’s environment and therefore the architecture that surrounds it. Understanding this approach is what Hiroko proposes in the following paper:

Dissolving Minds and Bodies
by Hiroko Nakatani

The object of the idea constituting a human mind is the corresponding body, or a certain mode of extension that actually exists, and nothing else.   -Baruch de Spinoza

Through the following presentation of five scientists from different fields and eras I would like to show the relevance of “body” as it relates to Spinoza’s concept of “mind” and “body” because it has been left behind over several centuries of spatial design that have mostly focused on a unilateral interpretation of “mind.” For Spinoza, mind and body are one. The skin is merely a boundary through which mind, which is a part of the infinite intellect, experiences the world, which is infinite substance. The examples below will show that not only is there scientific evidence that reveals that the body and world are a part of each other but also that we have only a very limited understanding of the potential within the body.

A biochemist, Rudolph Schoenheimer (1889-1942) research reveals that our body communicates with the material world around us; which body is an essential input for a mind according to Spinoza. He called his research Dynamic State of Body Constituents. He fed amino acid-marked food to adult mice. After feeding this for three days, he found that the mouse’s excretion was almost entirely non-marked materials. The marked materials were found all over inside the body. The food had become part of the mouse’s body very quickly while some parts of the body changed into waste. It is said that 98% of our body completely changes in one year. What really is interesting here for me is that materially we are the same as the food that we had today, and as dynamic as water that travels through body and river, and some other animal’s body again. As a material, our body is continuously exchanging and dissolving and taking part of this whole world of material. Although there are different scales of time in its process, this continuous flow will be the same as for the entire living/non-living things in the world whether it is a peak of a desert or the chair you are sitting in right now. To see it from Spinoza’s view, perception through body is an extension of mind, and now it keeps changing its components as an infinite cycle of material like the infinite intellect.

What is your brain doing right now while it is reading? Information goes into the brain but doesn’t come out. What happens to it? Your behaviors at the moment are probably basic— such as breathing and eye movements— yet, as you are aware, your brain is doing a lot more than that as you read and understand these words. – Jeff Hawkins

This constant interaction between the outside of our body is not just about our body that is material; it is also about our mind. In 1992, a group of neurophysiologists including Giacomo Rizzolatti at the University of Parma in Italy found a neuron in monkeys, that is activated when they copy some other monkey/people’s action such as holding up a cup. They named it the mirror neuron. The mirror neuron is a series of reactions that we can find in our brain and some other mammals when they copy another animal’s activity consciously or unconsciously. For example, when the person next to you yawns, you feel like yawning as well whether you want to or not. It is said that empathy is an example of the mirror neuron’s operation. If animals keep copying each other constantly, the borderline of one mind starts to disappear and dissolves into another. We are in a sense part of the environment just like our body is. The body is a limited entity if you look at just a single moment; however, over time, our body is a constantly changing phenomenon. Over the past century, it seems that body has been left behind by the speed of radical acceleration of connectivity of minds. Now a small voice reaches to the other side of the world as fast as you speak to someone next to you. People with common interests share with each other, gather and transmit their concentrated information to each other both consciously and unconsciously. How about body? Why don’t we explore alternate conditions of our bodies like mind?

Here are three extreme examples of explorations of bodies that I would like to introduce. The first one is a about a single tomato tree that makes me think of the hidden potential of a living thing. This tree in Japan has ten thousand tomatoes within its body. It was shown at the International Exposition, Tsukuba, Japan, 1985. It was grown by a botanist Shigeo Nomura from the mere seed of a tomato. He used no genetic engineering for this purpose. A seed of tomato just like you can find anywhere else produced ten thousand tomatoes. The way he grew this tree was far from high-tech. He did not use chemicals that would accelerate the tomato’s growth either. He simply gave the tomato tree plenty of water and air that was always circulating. The key was that he did not use soil, so that the tree would not consume its energy to grow its roots. He made the tomato’s body free from stress. This method is called Hyponica. He said in an interview, “I just helped what the tomatoes want to do”. This means that any living thing has all kind of potential that have not quite been exercised yet. In the way that he brought the tomato’s hidden potential to life, we might be able to demonstrate our hidden possibilities into life into some other ways by observing our lives carefully. There are many things that we have neither tried nor questioned about our environment. Is there anything that we believe to be “normal” which is not at all “normal” actually?

The second example of body comes from the opposite idea of the previous example. This is about potential that was discovered by limiting one’s environment. Kaspar Hauser(1812-1833) is a boy who lived in a darkened cell about two meters long, one meter wide, and one and a half meters high for a long time in his life with no social contact. When he was found at age 16, he almost could not speak any language nor recognize himself in a mirror. Kaspar could not eat meat since he had only been given bread and water throughout his life. On the other hand, his ability of perception was extraordinary compared with other human beings who had grown up in our environment. He could recognize colors in darkness, and he could distinguish iron and brass without seeing them. He could also recognize if there was prey caught in a spider web without even looking at it. However, his sharp perception went away as soon as he got used to living in society. This makes me want to think of a completely different way of living a life. If everyone lives in a generic way more and more, aren’t we ignoring what we could do?

While the previous two examples of body were about how environment changes body, the next example will show how body can be trained with new perceptions. We can train ourselves and develop a whole new perception. So far, mirror neuron was found only in sight and sound; however, it is not difficult to imagine finding it in all the other perceptions when we look at an American neuroscientist Paul Bach-y-Rita’s (1934-2006) research. He made a device for blind people to wear on their tongues, which projects a visual pattern that is made of thousands of small needles. Using this visual information through the device, the examinees became able to see things through their tongues. After some training, they learned to open doors and pick up a glass of water. Most interestingly, when the examinees were wearing this device, they were using the part of their brain that is associated with seeing which had not been functioning for them since they had become blind. So, by using touch, we can develop a part of the brain that is used for sight. This reminds me of the words of the artist Shusaku Arakawa that a human has thousands of brains both within and outside of our body.

As we exchange our body with the materials in the environment and the information in our minds unconsciously with others, the boundary between body and mind disappears. Architects have not developed an environment for our body that exchanges as much as has been done for the mind. As Spinoza said, we should never leave our body behind. We need to take back our body by means of innovative ways of creating the architectural environment around us.

Bibliography:
- Spinoza, Baruch. The Ethics. New York : Dover, 1955
- Damasio, Antonio. Looking for Spinoza. New York : A Harvest Book Harcourt Inc, 2003
- Hawkins, Jeff with Blakeslee, Sandra. On Intelligence. New York : Times Books, 2004
- Rizzolatti, Giacomo and Sinigalia, Corrado. Mirrors in the Brain: How Our Minds Share Actions, Emotions, and Experience. New York : Oxford New York, 2006

Special thanks to Dorian G. Stone


# ARCHITECTURAL THEORIES /// A Subversive Approach to the Ideal Normatized Body

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Body Measurements by Henry Dreyfuss Associates. MIT Press, 1974.

A year ago, I wrote an article which was exploring how the modernist theories had implemented the ideology of what I called an ideal normative body. In a nutshell, this oxymoron expresses the paradox of the elaboration of a body that was supposed to represent a standard for all bodies but, by doing so, became idealized as no real body was, in fact, perfectly matching this standard. The following article therefore constitutes a visual and textual opposition between this ideal normatized body as drawn by Ernst Neufert, Le Corbusier and the Architectural Graphic Standards and its subversion within architectural projects.

The modernist project to establish a standard for the human body is not born in the 20th century. Renaissance was built around this notion of idealized proportions both for the body and architecture. In 1487, Leonardo da Vinci drew what remains one of the most famous drawings of Western Art: the Vitruvian Man. Many re-interpretations and parodies of this drawing have been created to address the question of standard since then. That is the case (see below) of Thomas Carpentier, whose thesis project L’homme, mesures de toutes choses at the Ecole Spéciale d’Architecture motivated the redaction of this article.

L’homme, mesures de toutes choses (2012) by Thomas Carpentier (ESA)

In 1936, Ernst Neufert, one of the first student from the Bauhaus and protégé of Walter Gropius, creates an Architects’ Data book which establishes a rationalization of the human (male) body and its direct built environment (furniture, street, building etc.) so that the latter perfectly adapts to the former. Once again this body exists only as the representation of a norm. His dimensions saturated diagrams have been nevertheless considered as a source of fundamental information in many projects since then. Nowadays, his book is still considered as the “bible” in some countries’ architectural schools like in Brazil as my friend Lucas Issey Yoshinaga never misses an occasion to observe.

Bauentwurfslehre by Ernst Neufert (1936)

Before going any further within the exploration of transgressive approach to the norm, let’s re-establish what the latter constitutes. The paradigmatic example of the proportional rationalization of the human body is of course, Le Corbusier’s modulor which was supposed to embody a “range of harmonious measurements to suit the human scale, universally applicable to architecture and to mechanical things.” One has to observe that, despite the fact that Le Corbusier was working closely with the talented Charlotte Perriand who complemented his architecture with her industrial design, the modulor is exclusively male and thus participate to maintain a gendered domination of the standard in architecture. It is important, however, to notice the assumed idealization of this body in Le Corbusier’s stylized drawing which clearly represents a non-existing body.

Modulor by Le Corbusier (1946)

In the second part of the 20th century, similar diagrams were collected in the successive copies of the Architectural Graphic Standards used as a reference volume by many architecture offices. The precision and illusory exhaustiveness of dimensioned combination of the body and architecture, however useful, elaborates an imaginary limited field of possibilities both for the body and its environment.

Architectural Graphic Standards. Hoboken: Wiley, 2000

In 1974, American industrial designer Henry Dreyfuss re-interprets these normative diagrams by adding to them the gender differentiation as well as the acknowledgment that other bodies exists and respond differently to normatized environments. He even anthromorphizes his two main models by giving them names: Joe and Josephine. The very idea of including wheelchair users, handicapped or elderly within this mean of rationalization, however thoughtful and progressive, is problematic as it attempts to normatize what is, by definition, failing to respect the norm -that is the very idea of categorizing somebody as ‘handicapped’.  It nevertheless helps us to question further a potential transgression to the universality of the norm.

Wheelchair users. Handicapped and Elderly by Henry Dreyfuss Associates. MIT Press, 1974.

More recently (last year actually), we could observe a new diagram of the human body in relation with its environment. The winning entry of the Phase Shift Park (Taichung) competition by Philippe Rahm architectes and Catherine Mosbach depicts indeed the body, not anymore by its anatomical dimensions but rather by its biological affections by the environment. Heat, humidity and pollution, as three factors having physiological consequences on the body, are mapped and exploited in the creation of the park proposition.


Diagrams for the winning entry of the Phase Shift Park (Taichung) competition by Philippe Rahm architectes and Catherine Mosbach (2011)

This last example now allows this article to investigate two architectural attitudes which fundamentally refuse to dissociate the body from its environment and consider those two entities as a balanced assemblage subjected to universal forces such as gravity or friction. No diagram in my knowledge illustrates such interaction better than the one drew by Claude Parent for Architecture Principe’s Oblique Function (see previous post). Architecture is expressed as a single oblique line, experienced simultaneously by two bodies, one climbing it up and therefore submitted to a fatigue from the action of gravity while the other is subjected to speed while going down following a vector of movement inferior to 90 degrees with the weight vector.

Drawing by Claude Parent for the Oblique Function /// Architecture Principe (Parent/Virilio) 1964

As always (see my essay Architectures of Joy), the body of work that I associate with Parent & Virilio’s research is the one elaborated for several decades by Arakawa and Madeline Gins. Their research, however more complex than the Oblique Function, deals with very similar issues. What they conceptualized under the name of Architectural Body, is the absolute non-dissociation of the human body and its environment which, when though as such, develops a form of symbiosis which resists to death as a process (multiple articles on this blog already referenced their work. See in particular the interview with Madeline Gins). The following diagram maps the complexity of relation that the body  -in that case, simply the two arms- continuously develops with its direct environment. Such ‘qualitative’ -Deleuze would say ‘intensive’- approach is in direct opposition to Neufert’s quantitative -extensive- research and therefore can acquire the universality that the inventors of the ideal normatized body were claiming.

Excerpt from Reversible Destiny: We Have Decided Not To Die by Arakawa and Madeline Gins. New York: Abrams, Inc. 1997.

Now that this succession of diagrams interpreting the body and architecture has been established, we can come back to the project I was referring to in this article’s introduction: L’homme, mesures de toutes choses. In this student project, Thomas Carpentier subverts the normatization of the body by proposing a series of other standards whose bodies, fictitious or real, clearly imply a different approach in the conception of architecture. With a humorous tone, he depicts a door that would be considered as standard for Arnold Schwarzenegger’s  build or Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion if it was inhabited by Jabba the Hutt. His last steps considers an ‘ideal’ magazine house, transformed in order to accommodate the anatomical standards of various characters such as Oscar Pistorius, Borg Queen or David Toole (see illustrations at the end of the article).


L’homme, mesures de toutes choses (2012) by Thomas Carpentier (ESA)

As a conclusion we can say that the elaboration of an architecture based on the consideration of an ideal normatized body is dangerous as this architecture will not only be discriminatory but will also force any body to physically tend towards this normatized body. Conceived this way, architecture becomes a machine engaging processes of normatization, both in its users’ imaginary and in an anatomical action -similarly to a garden stake for a plant- as the body always attempt to adapt to its direct environment. The only universality that we can allow ourselves to use as a creative vector is the one which actually applies indifferently to every body and therefore constitute a legitimate standard. As usual, project that ignore such questioning are very likely to participate to the process of normatization; in consequence we have to create subversive apparatuses that allows the anomaly -which concerns everybody to a small or larger extents- to express itself in resistance to architecture’s violence on the body.

APPENDIX (more illustrations):

Bauentwurfslehre by Ernst Neufert (1936)

Modulor by Le Corbusier (1946)


Architectural Graphic Standards. Hoboken: Wiley, 2000

Joe and Josephine by Henry Dreyfuss Associates. MIT Press, 1974.

L’homme, mesures de toutes choses (2012) by Thomas Carpentier (ESA)

L’homme, mesures de toutes choses (2012) by Thomas Carpentier (ESA)

L’homme, mesures de toutes choses (2012) by Thomas Carpentier (ESA)

L’homme, mesures de toutes choses (2012) by Thomas Carpentier (ESA)

L’homme, mesures de toutes choses (2012) by Thomas Carpentier (ESA)

L’homme, mesures de toutes choses (2012) by Thomas Carpentier (ESA)


# ARCHITECTURAL THEORIES /// The Reversible Destiny Archives

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The Reversible Destiny Foundation, created and sustained by Madeline Gins and Arakawa, has new online archives on which many of the concepts and projects they invented along the years are being explained and illustrated. As an introduction, I can maybe add the transcript of the interview (part A and part B) I had the luck to do with Madeline Gins about a year ago.

Those archives are very important as they allow to understand the level of engagement radical architecture requires to exist. Despite the condescending smiles I have seen on many faces when I evoke the work of Reversible Destiny, nobody can deny the consistent and passionate efforts that Madeline Gins and Arakawa have been producing for decades, dedicated as they were on a single question. A multitude of diagrams, drawings and texts (see also in their numerous books) analyze what they call the architectural body (the continuous construction of a relationship between a body and its direct material and immaterial surrounding). Such a passionate approach to architecture is exemplary and should be more common. This is not to say that architecture is a vocation to which some kind of transcendental force is leading us, but rather that pleasure and ethics should constitute the foundation of its practice. Architects should never be priests, tyrants or slaves, the representatives of the sad passions as Gilles Deleuze points out when he talks about Spinoza and Nietzsche. On the contrary, they should be the inventors of architectures of joy as I have been already writing about Arakawa and Gins’ work. Those archives are a good starting point to compose such an ethics.

Drawing for Reversible Destiny Healing Fun House

Isle of Reversible Destiny – Fukuoka

Sensorium City (Tokyo Bay 1994)

Sensorium City (Tokyo Bay 1994)

Reversible Destiny Lofts – Mitaka In Memory of Helen Keller

Reversible Destiny Lofts – Mitaka In Memory of Helen Keller

Diagram for the Bioscleave House Lifespan extending Villa

Drawing for the Bioscleave House Lifespan extending Villa



# GUEST WRITERS ESSAYS 35 /// DIY Biopolitics: The Deregulated Self by Russel Hughes

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extracted from The Mechanisms of Meaning by Arakawa & Madeline Gins, New York: Abbeville Press, 1971.

Today’s guest writer is Russel Hughes who recently finished his dissertation, DIY Biopolitics: The Deregulated Self at the RMIT (Melbourne) and, while waiting for its publication, gives us one of its chapter. In the latter, he introduces a philosophical interpretation of the work of artists/poets/philosophers/architects Arakawa and Madeline Gins. Russel starts his analysis from the paintings created in the 1960′s and 1970′s in order to shift later to their architectural sequels.

Arakawa and Gins’ Reversible Destiny has been the subjects of many of the articles published on the funambulist for the last two years (and there is at least one more coming up); I therefore decided to dedicate to it a category by itself so that it could be explored by anybody curious about it in an interesting way through the archives of the blog: CATEGORY ARAKAWA/GINS

DIY Biopolitics: The Deregulated Self (excerpt of the upcoming book)
by
Russell Hughes

Arakawa’s early paintings (1961-73) (many of which were produced with Gins though she took no authorial credit for them) represent what appear to be semi finished sketches that sometimes look like technical drawings against backgrounds of white and varying shades of brown. The purpose of these two dimensional representations is to signify ‘blankness’ as a “neutral positing” (Arakawa and Gins, 1997: 36), in the sense that blank is a ‘holding open’ of the compulsion toward the standard artistic practice of conceptual and cognitive colonisation toward a predetermined end. As they state: “it is what is there but undifferentiated, so it is nothing … It is what fills emptiness” (ibid.: 36). Another way of understanding blank is through the French blanc, meaning white, which is of course the congealment of all the colors in the spectrum (as opposed to black, the absence of color). In this sense, blank (or blanc) is overabundance, the reservoir of potentiality from which anything can come forth. The concept of blank draws our attention to the multiple points of interpretation contained within open endedness, as opposed to the definitive teleological fixity much (not all) creative practice strives for and is habitually accustomed to. The visual argument in these artworks is that painting as an activity abstracts from nature, narrowing down and essentialising experience. Abstract thought is the frame that apprehends the open endedness of meaning, defining and positioning a text in exclusive, unequivocal terms. In this respect much of Arakawa’s early work remains untitled (acting as the actual title of the work), which itself is an act of resistance to the etymological determinism that comes with labels that posit in explicit terms what it is we are meant to understand and experience from artistic productions.

Arakawa’s paintings function as possibilities for reconstruction, involving “not so much the play of sensibilities as they do the experience of reflection” (Adcock, 2003: 204). In this way Arakawa (and Gins) want to problematise how we “speak and enquire about what we hold as knowledge, especially visual knowledge” (ibid.: 207). The blankness that is produced in these works is not so much about nothing or non-sense, as it is about the ‘charged potentiality’ that becomes apparent when our intentions of the way we read texts are questioned, confused and disorientated. A central key to Arakawa’s work, (and the subsequent architectural productions that operate along similar lines), is the frustration of the expectation of predetermination in the consumption of texts, which forces into play a series of openings between the text and our cognition of it. In this sense blank operates as a middle way or entredeaux, an opening of the circular loop between experience and reflection. Crucially, Arakawa (and Gins) paintings do not so much conflate painting and experience, or operate in the gap between them, as respond to their dynamic reciprocity.

As a device for short-circuiting cognitive and conceptual processes, Arakawa (and Gins) use of blankness is the platform from which the possibility for cognitive and conceptual liberation is launched. But as you may have noted in this last sentence, these two dimensional representations are specific to a liberation predicated on visual experience alone. Though Arakawa (and Gins) larger canvases do engage the body to a degree (some experience a feeling of vertigo standing before the larger canvasses), it is from this need to concentrate on the body, to target its receptive centers in their entirety (as the ‘bottom up’ spontaneously emergent cognitive hypothesis, the theory that transformative cognitive potential is accessed by targeting the body’s sensorium in its entirety, dictates), that the two dimensional artist and his poetic partner turn to architecture.

By translating these principles from two to three dimensions, Arakawa and Gins’ theoretical trajectory works toward a more comprehensive engagement of the cognised body within a tactile, tangibly embedded, ‘sensorially’ charged space. In this sense, architecture that is what they call ‘tactically posed’ architecture challenges, interrogates, frustrates and disrupts the predetermined, habitual, sedentary practices of modern living, destabilising and de-habituating the teleologically driven end points that govern it.

To illustrate this point architecturally a good place to start is to consider what is actually wrong with normative architectural practice. It is argued by several theorists (Bergson, Poincaré, Rosenberg), that human cognitive freedom became lost with the imposition of a Newtonian grid of time and space onto experience (Rosenberg, 2003: 174). This occurred with the appearance of technologies of clock time and calculus utilised by governments to regulate and control human and social behavior. Such a condition extends to the domain of architecture, in particular contemporary architecture, which Arakawa and Gins argue ignores much of its primary function, to be first and foremost at the service of the body. Contemporary architecture is “insufficiently procedural” (2002: 54), that is, it is ‘comfort’ architecture that presupposes identity and fails to ask much of the body (the embodied mind). Still laden with the latent architectural heritage of buildings as monuments or mausoleums, as ‘tombs for the dead’, much of popular contemporary architecture abstracts, and thus detracts, from the open-ended potential claimed in the embodied mind hypothesis, once again narrowing down and essentialising experience. Philosopher Joel Robinson makes a poignant observation of contemporary architectural practice in this regard:

Investing spaces with architectural procedures for asking how we constitute ourselves in the world, Arakawa and Gins’ architecture aims to empower us to stretch the limits of sensorial plasticity. Their work thus stands in opposition to smart homes that, as second skins that are becoming increasingly self-regulating and interactive, make their user inhabitants proportionately dumber. It also stands in contrast to those coffins (as Gibson calls them in Neuromancer) that numb the senses to everyday dwelling, and against the celebration of virtual architectures and obsolescent bodies … theirs is a tool for reconfiguring … reforming … and reengineering (Robinson, 2005: 38).

The smart home, through the satiation of pleasure and comfort, through solving every dimension of experience to create a problem-less mode of living, kneads and coaxes the user inhabitant into a numbed state, an architecture that Jean Baudrillard in a different context (consumer society) calls an environment of “seduction” and sedation that domesticates and sublimates its user inhabitants into becoming just another object for consumption (1988). In this way, standard architectural practice is not dissimilar to the model of “learned helplessness” as it is understood in behavioral psychology (Seligman, 1975). Arakawa and Gins’ surrounds work as the antithesis to this kind of architectural logic. Through the deployment of procedural tools that confuse, disorientate and question the body’s relationship to its surrounds, their spaces produce effects that are tentative and highly uncertain, inducing a sense of open ended possibility which works to resist all compulsions toward habit, routine, acceptance, inevitability, and any other kind of corporeal or conceptual predetermination.

Drawing on metaphorical descriptions of the way the architecture can bring a greater intimacy between humans and their environment, Arakawa and Gins employ the example of the snail to illustrate the way architecture can increase its proximity to the body, so that to wear it is like dressing oneself in a second, third, fourth and counting skin. A more accessible way of understanding the nature of this intimate structural coupling between an organism and its environment, is through Andy Clarke’s description of the fluid dynamics of certain fish. In his book Being There: Putting Brain, Body and World Together Again (1998),Clarke uses the ‘Tale of the Tuna’ to describe the way select fish appear to defy the laws of physics in their capacity for propulsion and maneuverability. The argument begins with the illogic that dolphins are simply not strong enough to propel themselves at the speeds to which they do. According to the Triantafyllou brothers the extraordinary swimming efficiency of certain fishes is due to an “evolved capacity to exploit and create additional forces of kinetic energy in the watery environment. Such fishes, it seems, exploit aquatic swirls, eddies, vortices and pressure gradients, in turn using them to support speedy and agile behavior” (1998: 112).

Here the organism in question has such a sophisticated evolutionary intimacy with the environment that produces it that its capacity for swimming defies the ‘laws’ of its perceived biomechanical limitation. This talent is predicated on its tentative ‘at the ready’ monitoring and massaging of the fluid dynamics at any given point in time, that changes with each distribution of time and space in accordance with every new set of parameters that define its situation. Responding to minute changes as they happen, summoning all it can in the cognising of each specific point in time without the encumbering ‘guidance’ of teleologically determined end points (the abstracted ‘human’ goals of reflection severed from experience), is what Arakawa and Gins are suggesting we do via the construction of architectural procedures tailored specifically to such biomechanical ‘law’ defying possibilities inherent within the dormant cognitive potentials of the body.

This raises the essential point to be made with respect to the heuristic trajectory of Arakawa and Gins and the foundational assumptions of the discipline of cognitive science. In the opening lines of Architectural Body, Gins and Arakawa state the need to recognise ourselves (and the species from which we emanate) as “puzzle creatures”:

Who or what are we as this species? Puzzle creatures to ourselves, we are visitations of inexplicability … We must surely go to all possible lengths to find out what we exist in regard to (Gins and Arakawa, 2002: xii).

Contrary to the common practice of solving in concrete terms this ontological mystery, Arakawa and Gins do not seek to redress this with the positing of an abstract scheme or knowledge with which to overcome and ‘know’ it; rather, it is the very uncertainty of our being that Arakawa and Gins embrace as the definitive guiding principle for an architecture that must avoid stasis and the teleological determinisms that encumber it, if it is to engage experience as it happens and yield the dynamic cognitive potential contained therein. Resonant with the findings of cybernetic information theory, principally the research of Norbert Weiner illustrated in Chapters 1 and 4, Arakawa and Gins’ architectural procedures, predicated as they are on the notion that the species is a “puzzle creature” to itself, recasts their vision for the species from this contradictory ‘platform’ of uncertainty. For cognitive science practitioners, Arakawa and Gins’ architectural and heuristic practice is thus vital if not indispensable to the ability to renegotiate and recast cognitive bodies toward the transformative potentials contained within the emergent cognitive hypothesis.


# ARAKAWA/GINS /// Domesticity in the Reversible Destiny’s Architectural Terrains

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Twice during the last year, I had the great chance to stay over in Reversible Destiny‘s architectures. Along with good friends, we spent the last few days of 2011 at the Bioscleave House in Long Island, and more recently stayed over at the Mitaka Lofts in Tokyo. This is one thing to visit those architectures during the day (see my previous experience at the Bioscleave House through the interview with Madeline Gins), this is another one to actually stay there and therefore confront their uniqueness to our sense of domesticity.

The atypical dwelling that surprises you and amazes you at first becomes a terrain of habits in a second phase. Your body does not need to find its right spot and position anymore, it knows the few places in which it can form an adequate Architectural Body. Climbing a small “hill” to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen when you just woke up puts you in an interesting state of cautious somnambulism. Paradoxically, vision becomes less important in your understanding of space; or rather vision does not register anymore in a hierarchical scheme in which it commands the rest of the body, it becomes an equal part of the sharp awareness of the environment your body builds little by little. Moving in these architectures becomes a dance; not a ballet, of course, but rather something along the lines of Pina Bausch in which stumbling is part of a harmonious movement celebrating the living. Your body is both fragile and strengthen when confronted to the risk it continuously needs to response to. An understanding is always (re)negotiated between this liberated matter and your body which, in this regard, is one step closer to fathom its own material properties.

In a more prosaic way, the Mitaka Lofts are inhabited by several people and the Reversible Destiny Foundation Tokyo office, and were therefore appropriated by a multitude of standardized well known objects and furniture (see photographs below) that reinforce considerably the uniqueness of their architecture.  Whether this is the swing of the sphere room, the hanging dish-dryer, the small library organized here and there, or the ikea-like desk in one of the square room, those objects brings a striking contrast both with their environment and the one that they usually occupy. The body is not the only one that attempts to construct a harmonious relationship with the architecture, those objects, and the way of life that they imply, also do.

By their very existence, those two buildings offer us the possibility to imagine bold and radical built architectures, possibility that we refuse to see on a daily basis as a form of excuse for our own production. As a response to the ambient dullness, the Reversible Destiny Foundation celebrates an architecture of joy. The latter does not need to be taken as an example for what it stands for, but it surely should for the enthusiastic and audacious creative spirit it embodies.

Thank you very much to Madeline Gins, Momoyo Homma, Joke MacNair and Hiroko Nakatani

 Mitaka Lofts, October 2012 (photographs Léopold Lambert):

Bioscleave House, December 2011 (photographs Léopold Lambert):


# ARAKAWA/GINS /// The counter-biopolitical Bioscleave Experiment as imagined by Stanley Shostak

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just rammed earthThe interior domestic terrain of the Bioscleave House by Arakawa + Gins

As I recently started a whole section of the blog’s archives dedicated to the work of Shusaku Arakawa and Madeline Gins, I will be regularly writing new articles for it in order to present their radical architectural work in articulation with their lifework of poetical philosophy (or their philosophical poetry). A whole issue of the Canada based journal iNFLeXions (including a playful and beautiful digital interface) was recently dedicated to their work, thus giving access to about thirty texts written by various intellectual figures interested in the production of the Reversible Destiny Foundation. Among them, there is Stanley Shostak who is a professor in the Department of Biological sciences at the University of Pittsburgh and the author of two books about death and immortality at the biological level (Becoming Immortal, 2002 & The Evolution of Death, 2006). In his text, Bioscleave: Shaping our Biological Niches, he examines Arakawa and Gins’ manifesto ‘We Have Decided Not To Die” and one of its architectural embodiment, the Bioscleave House (see my own pictures of the house here and here) as a form of resistance against biopolitics (such a topic makes it compatible with Russel Hughes’s guest writer essay for The Funambulist).

Stanley Shostak, who is decided to consider Arakawa and Gins’ thesis with the scientific rigor that his background implies, starts his text with the process that the Bioscleave House should follow if it had to be recognized by the medical industry and its institutions (EMEA for Europe, FDA for the United States) as an operative drug to extend life expectancy. His narrative therefore involves various steps of experiments on bodies that would be subjected to a daily life in the house. The precise care put by Arakawa and Gins in the resolution of every architectural details as serving their manifesto (not only the terrain itself but also all the other creatures procedures involved, color, furnitures etc.), could then serve its purpose and be experimented as actually operative or not.

Nevertheless, Stanley Shostak is not simply interested in considering the Bioscleave House as a sort of drug; rather , he sees the house and the way of life it implies as an active form of resistance to the biopolitical cogs in which our bodies are involved into. Following the definition given by Michel Foucault for his neologism, biopolitics constitute in the organization and supervision of life (both at the biological and anatomical level) as a form of control of the bodies subjugated to a given sovereignty. In that matter, we can re-examine Beatriz Preciado’s thesis that interprets biopolitics within a pharmacopornographic society for which the paradigmatic object/architecture is the contraceptive pill: a self-inflicted modification of the body’s biology with societal birth regulation consequence. S. Shostak’s text presents the Bioscleave House as the opposite of such biopolitical apparatus: a dispositif in which the body does not require to be troubled in its biology, but rather is strengthen and stimulated in its biological and anatomical construction. In other words, and to use the Spinozist terminology to which I always come back when writing about Arakawa and Gins’s work: an architecture of joy (i.e. that increases the body’s potential) rather that one that implement sad passions.

Bioscleave: Shaping our Biological Niches
by Stanley Shostak

Our lives are blighted by biopolitics masquerading as environmentalism—by organized power over life

focused on … the body imbued with the mechanics of life and serving as the basis of the biological processes: propagation, births and mortality, the level of health, life expectancy and longevity, with all the conditions that can cause these to vary (Foucault, 1980: 139).

Fortunately, an artist and a poet have created a shelter from biopolitics in Bioscleave House and provided an inspiration to live in real time. Of course, biopoliticians grumble that claims made for Bioscleave House are unscientific, anecdotal, and lack controls. But scientific studies in public health and disease management are frequently heuristic, beginning with anecdotal evidence—with exploratory studies—and 150,000 years of human evolution have provided all the controls one needs!

In any event, if Bioscleave House were a drug assessed under the protocols of regulatory agencies (e.g., the FDA in the US or EMEA in the EU), it would already have passed Phase 0—that human beings process the drug and the drug works in the human being as expected. It would be time to move on to Phase I in earnest! In Phase I, Bioscleave House would be tested on a small number of healthy volunteers to see if objectives are validated by results. Phase II would test Bioscleave House’s impact on wellbeing and longevity in a larger number of volunteers drawn from an enlarged pool of possible subjects. Finally, having demonstrated that Bioscleave House works as intended, it would be ready for Phase III, multicenter trials on large groups for long durations aimed at the definitive assessment of effectiveness in comparison with the current “gold standard,” namely life as we know it—shaped by biopolitics. At this point, Arakawa and Gins would submit applications to the regulatory agencies that would permit volunteers to obtain Bioscleave Houses independently. Finally, during Post Marketing Surveillance Trials (i.e., Phase IV), the label would be expanded to incorporate additional evidence for the Bioscleave House efficacy in individuals not included in the population for which Bioscleave House was originally approved for marketing.

Of course, this scenario would raise hackles among those living by the dictates and standards of biopolitics. Biopolitics supports “anti-aging” medicine whereas Bioscleave House is “pro-aging” without medicine. Aging is a problem for biopolitics but not for Arakawa and Gins. Rather, living fully at every age is the problem they confront. Biopolitics would have increasing numbers of human beings living fragile and vulnerable lives as nonagenarians, centenarians, and supercentenarians. Bioscleave House employs biotopology to extend vigorous life throughout prolonged adulthood. Biopoliticians make metaphysical claims for imminent and permanent cures of disease associated with aging while Bioscleave House espouses human enhancement and the evolution of vigorous life, promoting healthy living now and in generations to come.

The difference between biopolitics and biotopology is easily illustrated.

life expectancy

The above image shows five survivorship curves, also known as human life expectancy curves, tracing the percentage of individuals (‘survivors’) alive in a cohort as they age (‘years after birth ‘). The four curves toward the left are based on data for people in the United States and Europe, actuarial extrapolations, and smoothing algorithms. The one curve at the right is based entirely on projections. The four data-based curves represent cohorts of individuals born respectively in 1754, 1850, 1900, and 1988; the fifth curve is for an entirely hypothetical cohort of individuals to be born in 2025.

The curves all begin at 100%, when all members of the cohort are alive, and end at 0%, when all members of the cohort are dead. A plateau is reached in each curve during adult life followed by a period of rapid decline when survivorship drops off precipitously until moderating and approaching zero asymptotically in old age.

Several important points emerge from seeing the four data-based curves together: The first point is that the four curves follow a similar pattern in which a more or less horizontal arm meets a more or less vertical arm. The second point is that the more or less horizontal arms move upward and lengthen while the more or less vertical arms become increasingly upright. The third point is that the “tails” of the four curves overlap (i.e., are entangled) as they approach 0, at the bottom of the graph. As a result, the shape of the curves changes from somewhat rounder on the left to somewhat squarer on the right. Called “squaring the curve,” biopoliticians attribute the effect to improvements in health care management.

Thus, the more horizontal portions of the curves have risen and flattened due to improvements in pre- and post-natal care of women, neonatal care, vaccination, and treatment of infectious diseases among the young. Consequently more babies have survived to become juveniles and more preadolescents have advanced into adulthood.[1] Simultaneously, the more vertical portion of the curve is pushed to the right by the increased numbers of young people surviving into adulthood and by middle-aged people surviving longer. These changes are generally attributed to reductions in exposure to hazards such as those in polluted air, water, and cigarette smoke, and to increased time available to individuals for rest, allowing their bodies to recuperate from the daily assaults of normal life, especially those suffered at work. In addition, survival is promoted by improved treatment of chronic disease—although the rampant epidemics of obesity and type II diabetes suggest we are not doing everything we should be doing to combat chronic disease.

How many years have been added to human life as a result of squaring the curve? With a little coaxing this question is answered with numbers generated from these curves. The dotted horizontal line bisecting each curve at 50% (i.e., at the point where half the people in each cohort are alive and half the people are dead) assigns a “life expectancy at birth” value to each cohort. “Life expectancy at birth” is considered a cohort’s mean age at death and is used as a basis for statistical analysis and comparison. Thus, the 42 and 47 years life expectancies at birth for the 1850 and 1900 cohorts are significantly greater than the 24-year life expectancy at birth for the 1754 cohort, and the 75 years life expectancy at birth for the 1988 cohort is significantly greater than the life expectancies at birth for the earlier cohorts.

In other words, for nearly two and a half centuries, mean life expectancies in the U.S. and Europe have moved up with statistical regularity. (Life expectancy is higher elsewhere [e.g., Iceland and Japan] and lower elsewhere [conspicuously Africa and Russia].)

But this is the limit of ‘squaring’. Indeed, squaring the curve has only a few more years to go before it is squared to saturation! If biopolitics is allowed to continue on its present trajectory, projected life expectancies will increase for white women born in 2100 to 102 years of age, black women and white men to 97, and black men to 90. Even if the conquest of diseases is complete by 2200 as projected by biopoliticians, life expectancy at birth would be 117 years for white women, 112 for black women and white men, and 105 for black men in the US (Olshansky, et al., 1990). This is all that biopolitics has to offer.

The problem for biopolitics arises from the ‘entangled tails’ as survivorship curves approach 0. This entanglement puts a damper on pushing the curves further outward even with all the power of modern industrialized society lined up behind biopolitics. According to biopoliticians, human beings have a genetically built-in tendency to die sometime before or around 92 years of age.[2] Humans are supposed to hit a biological wall—a genetic barrier—during the entangled tail phase of the life expectancy curves. According to biopoliticians, during this phase, our probability of surviving from year to year is about 50%. This is not to say that the life of nonagenarians, centenarians, and supercentenarians is necessarily one of decrepitude, but it is a life of chance: the chance of someone sneezing nearby and your catching a cold, flu, or pneumonia that will kill you; of vulnerability to environmental hazards that you would have walked away from earlier in life but now trip you up; and frailty to conditions, like smog, that earlier might have caused annoyance but now threatens to lay you out.

By squaring the curve, the biopoliticians have painted themselves into the proverbial corner.  But what about Arakawa and Gins? What does reversible destiny, biotopology, and Bioscleave House have to say about life’s limits?

“What limits?”

Biotopology has the potential to extend longevity by disentangling the tails of the survivorship curves. By strengthening the individual, Arakawa and Gins’ creation holds the promise of raising the probability of living well beyond a 50% chance.

L. Steven Coles, co-founder of the Los Angeles Gerontology Research Group, created the fifth curve in the illustration (above) by untangling the tails of the survivorship curves and placing the vertical portion’s point of inflection at 150 years, but it could be placed virtually anywhere along the continuum. Steve has in mind extending human lifetime by finding ways of expressing salubrious genetic tendencies thereby promoting wellbeing and longevity (personal communication), but he also shares the vision of the creators of Bioscleave House.

Bioscleave House enhances wellbeing by activating and exercising every part of the human organism constantly and productively. By incorporating the contours of a terrain into the contours of an apartment, Bioscleave House flows into a landscape, between rooms, even within rooms, producing an expansive effect in place of the prison cell of four walls and doors. The residents breath more deeply as their horizon expands, exercise their whole body more completely as they move in the interior terrain, and encounter their own artistic spirit as they break away into the “exploratorian” from the quotidian.

But Bioscleave House can also operate on another level by promoting the extension of human longevity through evolution. Once Bioscleave House goes beyond Phase IV and villages of Bioscleave Houses become universal, they will expand life expectancy on the level of the species. Just as Bioscleave House rejects the biopolitical imperative to die, a world of Bioscleave Houses will liberate life from ‘squaring the curve.’ A world of Bioscleave Houses will open lifetime extension to infinite possibilities.

Arakawa and Gins have shown us how to take control of our destiny and human evolution! It is simply a matter of scale. Enhancing human life will also promote the outward evolution of longevity. Biologists call it “niche construction”: how the activities of organisms bring about changes in their environments and, consequently, in their own evolution—how a species’ activity feeds back on the species’ environment and hence on its evolution.

Bioscleave House is how we can extend life throughout our species and make it worth living in the process, namely, how we can live longer by living younger! Actually, the process is not new: it is probably responsible for many of the traits that have evolved over the millennia, including our present relatively long life. Juvenilisation, known in the evolutionary literature as —”neoteny” (from the Greek meaning stretching, extending or holding onto) refers to the retention of juvenile morphology into adult stages of the lifetime, and hence the delay of aging.

Signs of neoteny are clearly visible in humans…Several aspects of the human body strongly remind zoologists of characteristics typical among young, immature, even embryonic forms of primates. Among these are the size of the brain, which is very large in comparison to the rest of the body (like an infant’s), the angle of head to spine (a right angle), and a mostly hairless body (Benecke 2002:105). Neoteny is the slowing of somatic development, epitomized by the amphibian mud puppy Necturus maculosus, which retains its larval appearance throughout adult life. But neoteny also occurs widely in other vertebrates, fish, birds, and mammals, and—notably—in humans.

Slow growth is reflected in the delayed age of puberty in women compared to other mammals. [3] Moreover, women experiencing a delay in reaching menopause have not only grown old more slowly than other women but they tend to be longer-lived (Perls et al., 1997). Our aging is also slow compared to aging in other primates. The baboon mortality rate doubles every four years compared to seven to eight years for humans. “[Thus, h]umans. . . age differently, and more slowly than baboons” (Tatar et al. 2009). The pioneering primatologist Sherwood Washburn insists “there is strong direct evidence for the slowing of [human] development” (Washburn 1981: 23).

Furthermore, “[w]hat characterizes modern humans as unique is a prolongation of the postnatal growth period” (Dean 1987: 213). Indeed,

[t]he ages derived for Australopithecus, Paranthropus, and early Homo described biological equivalence to modern man at roughly two-thirds the chronological age, demonstrating that they had growth periods similar to the modern great apes. (Bromage and Dean 1985: 526)

At the end of growth, the adult skull in humans reaches an allometric shape (size-related shape) which is equivalent to that of juvenile chimpanzees with no permanent teeth. (Penin et al. 2002: 50)

Neoteny has other effects: it extends the benefits of juvenile life into adult stages. Juvenilised human beings are healthier, more active, livelier, and more receptive to new ideas than other members of the species. Indeed, one is hardly surprised when the biographers of the French supercentenarian Jeanne Calment describe her at 120 years as “someone who remains very young in spirit, and tastes, a kind of kid, almost childlike at times” (Allard et al. 1998: 62).

And Bioscleave House will only be the tip of the evolutionary iceberg by promoting neoteny and pushing juvenile wellbeing into adulthood. We have yet to conceive of where Bioscleave House will take us by returning us to the sand box of youthful life where life is play, sex is fun, commodities do no harm, creativity expands without leaving waste and where poetry thrives without breeding despair! That is where niche construction will create our future in the here-and-now! Genes will be reshuffled over generations and selection will favor a new, youthful, long-lived Homo sapiens. We will evolve into a species of individuals living younger, living longer and enjoying life all the more. Biotopologists—scientists, poets, artists, architects—will thrive in their Bioscleave Houses forging ahead into appropriate niche construction for reversible destiny, enhanced neoteny, and the evolution of youthful longevity for a lifetime!

Notes

[1] Regrettably, not everyone is doing as well. In fact, 25% of global deaths are still due to infectious diseases striking disproportionately at the young. Even in the United States, the young may not have access to adequate health care.

[2] The fact that Jeanne Louise Calment made it to 122 years and 164 days (born February 21, 1875; died August 4, 1997), surviving two standard deviations beyond the mean for her cohort (a highly significant difference) is simply dismissed as a statistical fluke.

[3] “Human beings reach puberty at an age (12–14 years) that is [relatively] 75-fold later than in mice” (Finch 1990: 629).

Bibliography

Allard, Michel, Victor Lèbre and Jean Marie Robine. Jeanne Calment: From Van Gogh’s Time to Ours, 122 Extraordinary Years. Trans. Beth Coupland. New York: W. H. Freedman, 1998.

Benecke, Mark. The Dream of Eternal Life: Biomedicine, Aging, and Immortality. Trans. Rachel Rubenstein. New York: Columbia University Press, 2002.

Bromage, Timothy G. and M. Christopher Dean. “Re-evaluation of the Age at Death of Immature Fossil Hominids.” Nature 317 (1985): 525–527.

Dean, M. Christopher. “Of Faster Brains and Bigger Teeth.” Nature 330 (1987): 213.

Finch, Caleb E. Longevity, Senescence, and the Genome. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990.

Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality: Vol. 1: An Introduction. Trans. Robert Hurley. New York: Vintage Books, 1980; 1976.

Olshansky, Stuart J., Bruce A. Carnes and C. Cassel. “In Search of Methuselah: Estimating the Upper Limits to Human Longevity.” Science 250 (1990): 634–640.

Penin, Xavier, Christine Berge, and Michel Baylac. “Ontogenetic Study of the Skull in Modern Humans and the Common Chimpanzees: Neotenic Hypothesis Reconsidered with a Tridimensional Procrustes Analysis.” American Journal of Physical Anthropology 118 (2002): 50–62. [doi: 10.1002/ajpa.10044]

Perls, Thomas T., Laura Alpert and Ruth C. Fretts. “Middle-aged Mothers Live Longer.” Nature 389 (1997): 133.

Tatar, Marc, Andrzej Bartke and Adam Antebi. “The Endocrine Regulation of Aging by Insulin-like Signals.” Science 299 (2003), 1346–1351.

Turner, S.J. “Marc Tartar on the Components of Aging.” George Street Journal  (2004). file:///research/Frailty/ frailtyMarcTatar 04-13-04_files/redir.html.

Washburn, S. L. “Longevity in Primates.” In Aging: Biology and Behavior. Eds. James L. McGaugh and Sara B. Kiesler . New York: Academic Press, 1981. 11–29.


# SPINOZA /// Episode 7: Applied Spinozism: Architectures of the Sky vs. Architectures of the Earth

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earth vs skyArchitecture of the Sky (Milan Trade Fair Building by Massimiliano & Doriana Fuksas) versus Architecture of the Earth (Japanese playground photographed by Munemi Natsu)

This article will be somehow similar to the text Architectures of Joy I wrote in 2010 and to which I often referred this week; however, this time, I would like to oppose a Spinozist architecture to its antagonist. It is important to observe that attributing the status of ‘Spinozist’ to an architecture is a relatively artificial and subjective assignment as all architectures are, to some extents, celebrating the composition of material assemblages that will interact with the bodies they host. Nevertheless, just like I did for the cinema of Kurosawa yesterday, we can distinguish some architectures that express the essence of Spinoza’s philosophy with more intensity (another Spinozist term) than others. Moreover, some others seem to express an essence that can be interpreted as an opposition to such a philosophy. This antagonism is here gathered under the title Architecture of the Sky vs. Architecture of the Earth as a form of simplification of what opposes them. One could argue that the sky is fully part of Spinoza’s philosophy, at the same level than the ground itself; however, the sky has to be understood through two attributes here: a symbolic one that understands the sky in a theological way, and a “practical” one in the sense that what is called “architectures of the sky” here, would not challenge the body in a direct physical manner. We could therefore used two other antagonist notions to define this conflict: the transcendental. versus the immanent.

ARCHITECTURES OF THE SKY

metz04Cathedrale de Metz (France)

1340662616--archivio-fuksas-52Milan Trade Fair Building by Massimiliano & Doriana Fuksas

Architectures of the sky involves the body in its vision and its ability to feel the negative space that is created by its proportions. It is built in such a way that the body is humbled, small as it is under the mightiness of the sky (materialized by the roof). For this reason, it is a theological architecture and its paradigmatic example is the Gothic Cathedral in the way it expresses the fear and respect of a transcendental God. Although it does not necessarily appear as such, the Milan Trade Fair Building designed by Massimiliano & Doriana Fuksas, is also a theological architecture. Of course, it is not dedicated to “God” but it celebrates a form of deity embodied by the architect.  The image of the “vortex” viewed from above is engaged in a direct dialog with the famous photograph of Le Corbusier’s finger that became the symbol of the transcendental architect’s action on the world. It is as if the Architect (with a capital A) pressed the roof of the Trade Fair with his (the Architect is always involved in normative processes of masculinity) finger and thus transformed the space below it and magnified his intervention. The plan is the architect’s medium but it is also the symptom of his deity. He traces lines and laughs to see all these little bodies trapped in the spatial apparatuses he drew from above.

ARCHITECTURES OF THE EARTH

claudeparentbiennalevenise4French Pavilion at the 1970 Venice Biennale by Claude Parent

bioscleave house - arakawa gins - photo by Leopold Lambert Bioscleave House by the Reversible Destiny Foundation (Arakawa + Gins) / Photograph by Léopold Lambert (2011)

playground7Playground in Belleville (Paris) by BASE (2008)

I apologize for using the same examples when I invoke the question of an architecture that truly challenges the body but they are so paradigmatic that using other (and probably tamer) illustrations would not serve as well the argument here. Those examples are the Oblique Function elaborated by Paul Virilio and Claude Parent in the 1960′s (and embodied in various buildings), about the life work of Arakawa and Madeline Gins (see the category dedicated to their work on this blog) to create architecture for its users not to die or the various (good) playgrounds of the world including the fantastic one in Belleville designed by BASE. In those three cases the architecture is mostly generated from the surface on which the body has no choice but to interact with as we continuously touch it: the ground. The latter is treated as a terrain (we might say, the original status of all grounds) that the body needs to “conquest” (to re-use the Deleuzian terminology for Spinozist concepts) in order to appropriate it.

What is truly Spinozist about this architecture is the fact that one is obliged to develop the second degree of knowledge (the one that makes your body composes harmonious relations with your physical environment) that can ultimately flirt with the third one (a perfect reading of the material assemblages in their movement of speed and slowness). The outcome of such a conquest is an increase of power (potentia) hence the joy I was referring to in the original text. The joy is quite literal in the case of the playgrounds, but in the case of the work of Arakawa and Madeline Gins, this increase of potentia goes as far as aiming for a significant reduction of the aging process (manifested by their poetic We Have Decided Not To Die) by strengthen the body and its biology through architecture. In a society of idols and comfort that serve the exact opposite purpose, we absolutely need more architectures of Spinozist joy. That concludes our Spinoza week, thank you for following it.


# ARAKAWA/GINS /// Architecture of the Conatus: “Tentative Construting Towards a Holding in Place”

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Architectural Body - arakawa ginsUbiquitous Site – Nagi Ryoanji by Arakawa + Gins (1994)

“If persons are sited, why do philosophers inquiring into what constitutes a person, or, for that matter, into the nature of mind, rarely, if ever, factor this in?”
“Philosophers considering persons as sites would be obliged to develop a person architectonics. They would, I am afraid, have to turn themselves into architects of sorts.” Page 5

Some of my readers are maybe surprised to see the editorial line of the blog shrinking day by day to something more and more (too?) precise. The reason for it is partially temporary as part of a strategy towards the completion of a project that I will be happy to unveil in the coming weeks. Until then, I would like to present one more article about the work of the Reversible Destiny Foundation (Arakawa + Madeline Gins) for a more acute understanding of their theoretical and design work (which are not really discernible one from another).

The title Architecture of the Conatus I chose in reference to their book Architectural Body (University of Alabama Press, 2002) is a direct reference to Spinozist philosophy (once again!) and can therefore be put in dialogue with the recent series of article dedicated to the latter. For Spinoza, each assemblage of substance i.e. body, “as far as it lies in itself, strives to persevere in its being” (Ethics, part 3, prop. 6). In other words, each thing will be continuously involved in a process of effort to keep the integrity of the material assemblage that constitutes it. Any animal (humans included), for example, will keep its body together as long as the latter is involved within the vital process. When this animal dies, however, its body will decompose and its matter will be reassembled in other bodies (soil etc.). Arakawa and Madeline Gins present a similar concept in their book, but before coming to that, I should probably introduce the latter.

Arakawa and Gins calls Architectural Body the composition of a living material assemblage constituted both by the human body itself and its direct environment. Just like for any body, such an assemblage does integrate movement of the matter within it (think of a human body’s biology for a simple example). The Architectural Body also involves the biological and other microscopic movements of its element’s matter; nevertheless, it adds to this microscopic scale, a macroscopic one in which the human body continuously composes material relations with its environment .

All excerpts are from the original version; however, since a (very good) French translation exists as well, I also included it at the end of this article.

Close observations have yet to be made of the effect of type of habitation on persons. Those who would minutely observe the effect of habitation on human beings must begin to discern how and why surroundings give or withhold from organisms of the type that can person the means to behave as persons. Even as the concept of person can stay put (everyone knows what a person is), it needs to be greatly dilated (particularly within a book entitled Architectural Body). We have adopted the admittedly clumsy term “organism that persons” because it portrays persons as being intermittent and transitory outcomes of coordinated forming rather than honest-togoodness entities; now that we have launched the term, we use the following less cumbersome terms synonymously with it: body, body-proper, human being, organism, organism-person, person. When studying what goes on between the bodyproper and its surroundings, it will be necessary to consider the extent to which persons are behavioral subsets of the organisms from which they emanate and out of which they compose themselves as agents of action. Page 2

A taking shape of surrounds and bodies and organisms and persons occurs intermixedly. Logic would want to get in there with a knife and cut them apart. Although we are utterly dependent on the force of logic prior to constructing the surrounds that will test our hypotheses, we will say no to logic and resist making incisions and separating the probably inseparable. All the linking and enclosing, an it (think of this as an autopoietic system if you like) that starts as enclosed and then goes about enclosing itself—all of that needs to be picked up as an organism-like whole, kicking and screaming, alive with process, emphatically, and urgently rushed into a supporting context of embedded procedures. Page 4

Going back to the notion of conatus, Arakawa and Gins introduce their concept of bioscleave, that can be interpreted as the Spinozist notion of substance, as the universal (theological for Spinoza) ensemble of matter and its internal energy. Rather than the Spinozist necessary perfection of the substance, Madeline Gins and Arakawa talk about the balance of the bioscleave without which, no vitality can be developed.

Bioscleave—people breathe it, it sustains them—has parts and elements, many of which exhibit an order, even as it presents itself as an enormously confused mass with operative factors that cannot be distinguished. Who moves through this mass of chaos, this massive mix of order and chaos, has sited awareness buried there within it. Page 51

Start by thinking of architecture as a tentative constructing toward a holding in place. Architecture’s holding in place occurs within and as part of a prevailing atmospheric condition that others routinely call biosphere but which we, feeling the need to stress its dynamic nature, have renamed bioscleave.
All species belonging to bioscleave exist only tentatively (which remains true whatever turns out to be the truth about natural selection, whether it happens randomly or with directionality), with some species, all things being unequal, existing on a far more tentative basis than others. Additionally, bioscleave stays breathable and in the picture only so long as elements take hold of each other in particular ways, only so long as there can be a cleaving of a this to a that and a cleaving of a this off of a that. So that there might be new and different link-ups, fresh points of departure, ever renewed tentative constructing toward a holding in place, a firm and definite taking hold, which gives one sense of the term to cleave, must also readily entail cutting apart, cut-off, relinquishment, the other sense of the term. Should a crucial element fail to hold its own, bioscleave would go missing, collapsing into untempered atmosphere, leaving (but no one would be there to tell) an uninhabitable planet in its wake. A single missing element (carbon or oxygen) or an aberrant formation of a molecule, to say nothing of a large-scale cataclysmic event, could make bioscleave vanish, bringing an abrupt end to millennia of tentative constructing toward a holding in place. Page 48

The last excerpt introduced the peculiar notion of tentative constructing toward a holding in place (very close from the Spinozist definition of the conatus) or its beautifully translated version into French, construction tâtonnante en vue d’un maintien en place. I am giving the translation on purpose as the word “tâtonnante“, used by Monique Chassagnol (the book translator) transcripts, in my opinion, an even more expressive meaning of the Architectural Body than the English word tentative used by the authors. Tatonner in French incorporates the notion of tentative but adds to it, the idea of groping, a highly corporal idea. One might remember Madeline Gins’  book Helen Keller or Arakawa (Santa Fe: Burning Books, 1994) including the famous deafblind author in their discourse. This makes a lot of sense as the Architectural Body involves only a limited visual and auditive characteristics compared to its hyper-tactility. One of the first experience I did, the first time I visited the Bioscleave House in October 2011, was to used a blind cane and go around the house central terrain while closing my eyes. It becomes then easy to understand how one could acquire more and more ease experiencing the terrain “only” (but there is no “only” here) with one’s feet. By doing so, one composes a more balanced architectural body.

Staying current with bioscleave, remaining alive as part of it, involves keeping pace with the tentativeness it brings to bear, staying focused on the elusiveness as such of this tenuous event-fabric or event-matrix. Everything is tentative, but some things or events have a tentativeness with a faster-running clock than others. So that there can at least be a keeping pace with bioscleave’s tentativeness, it becomes necessary to divine how best to join events into an event-fabric, which surely involves learning to vary the speed at which one fabricates tentative constructings toward holding in place.

Architecture occurs as one of many ways life sees fit to conduct and construct itself, a form of life, and all forms of life have, without doubt, as of this date, but a limited and uncertain existence. Even so, thus far only nomads have held architecture to be as a matter of course tentative.

Life—Bios—would seem to be constituted by interactions between tentative constructings toward a holding in place, with the body, the body-in-action, surely the main fiddler at the fair. Bodily movements that take place within and happen in relation to works of architecture, architectural surrounds, are to some extent formative of them. Those living within and reading and making what they can of an architectural surround are instrumental in and crucial to its tentative constructing toward a holding in place. We do not mean to suggest that architecture exists only for the one who beholds or inhabits it, but rather that the body-in-action and the architectural surround should not be defined apart from each other, or apart from bioscleave. Pages 49-50

To finish this long article (I apologize that I could not reduce the excerpts to their very essence), I would like to introduce a last excerpt in which Madeline Gins and Arakawa are directly addressing the reader asking her/him to realize a small assignment that can work in any space (s)he reads the book. They go as far as making this same reader actively enter the narrative as (s)he speaks in the text. The assignment consists in rotating of 10 degrees the entirety of the room (s)he is currently in to increase her/his awareness of the physical space surrounding her/him. The extreme manifestation of such an imaginative space can be found in Ubiquitous Site – Nagi Ryoanji, built in 1994 in Japan, which concretize the same assignment, except that it is no more 10 degrees of inclination but the infinity of degrees betwee 0 and 360 as the floor is cylindrical (see photo above).

Contribute your room, your architectural surround of the moment, to this text. For your room to be of use in what follows, it needs to be transformed into a work of procedural architecture. Note where in the room you are and the direction in which you are facing. To have this room—the room in which you happen to be reading this—stand out distinctly as the room it is, select and keep vivid a representative group of its features. Now take the room and give its floor a ten-degree tilt along its longest length (if the room is square, either side is fine). Make a double of your room thus tilted and place it next to the original. Seesaw the floor of the double so that it ends up tilting in the opposite direction.
ARCHITECT: We have now been in both rooms. It is apparent that the two together frame the impact on us of an architectural surround, that is, of the room in which you are reading this text.
READER: I lean differently into the situation of exactly this room within each of its exemplars.
ARCHITECT: Perfect. Page 45

Translated Excerpts into French by Monique Chassagnol in Arakawa & Madeline Gins, Le Corps Architectural, Paris: Manucius, 2005.

«Pourquoi les philosophes qui cherchent à comprendre la nature de la personne ou même celle de l’esprit, ne prennent-ils Presque jamais en considération le fait que les personnes sont situées ?»
« Ils se trouveraient dans l’obligation de développer une architectonique de la personne. Ils devraient, je le crains, devenir en quelque sorte architectes. » P35

L’effet de l’habitat sur la personne demeure mal connu faute d’être observe de près. Quiconque décide d’entreprendre cette étude doit analyser pourquoi et comment l’environnement donne ou non aux organismes susceptibles de personner les moyens de le faire. Même si le concept de personne peut demeurer établi (chacun sait ce qu’est une personne) il a besoin d’être considérablement élargi, en particulier dans un livre intitule Le corps Architectural. Nous avons adopté l’expression – maladroite, reconnaissons-le – : « organisme qui personne » parce qu’elle définit les personnes comme résultats intermittents et provisoires de processus de formations coordonnées bien plus que comme véritable entités. Maintenant que nous avons créé cette expression, nous pouvons utiliser des expressions synonymes moins lourdes : corps, corps propre, être humain, organisme, organisme-personne, personne. Dans l’étude de la relation entre le corps propre et son environnement, il sera indispensable de voir dans quelle mesure les personnes sont des sous-ensembles comportementaux des organismes dont elles émanent et à partir desquels elles se construisent pour devenir des agents. P32

Environnement, corps et organismes prennent forme ensemble, en même temps. La logique voudrait pouvoir les dissocier, les détacher au couteau. Bien que totalement dépendants du pouvoir de la logique pour construire des espaces ou tester nos hypothèses, nous prenons le parti de refuser la logique et nous résistons a la tentation d’inciser et de séparer ce qui est probablement inséparable. Tout ce processus d’attache et de clôture, un « ceci » (vous pouvez, si bon vous semble, le considérer comme un système autopoiétique) qui commence clôture et va en se clôturant, tout cela doit être pris comme un tout, une forme d’organisme, qui s’agite, gigote et crie, vivant, mouvant, vigoureux, emporte, précipite dans le cadre solide de procédures d’enchâssement. P33

Le biosclive – on le respire, il nous fait vivre – est constitué de parties et d’éléments, la majorité d’entre eux étant agencés selon un ordre donne, même s’il se présente comme une masse extrêmement confuse dont les constituants actifs sont indiscernables. Quiconque évolue au sein de cette masse chaotique, de ce mélange d’ordre et de désordre, y découvre de la conscience située.

Commencer par considérer l’architecture comme construction tâtonnante en vue d’un maintien en place (a tentative constructing toward a holding in place). Ce maintien en place qu’opère l’architecture relève de conditions atmosphériques dominantes que l’on appelle d’ordinaire la biosphère mais que nous, qui ressentons le besoin de souligner son caractère dynamique, appelons biosclive (bioscleave). P76

Toutes les espèces appartenant au biosclive ont une existence incertaine, quelle que soit la conception qu’on tienne pour vraie en matière de sélection naturelle, qu’elle s’effectue au hasard ou non, certaines espèces, toutes choses égales d’ailleurs, existant sur un mode bien plus incertain que d’autres. En outre, le biosclive demeure respirable et présent dans le tableau uniquement tant que les éléments entrent en contact les uns avec les autres de façon spécifique, uniquement tant qu’est possible une adhésion d’un ceci a un cela et une séparation d’un ceci d’un cela. SI bien qu’il pourrait y avoir des associations nouvelles et différentes, de nouveaux points de départ, une construction tâtonnante en vue d’un maintien en place, une adhésion ferme et définitive, mais aussi séparation, division désunion. S’il arrivait qu’un élément essentiel vienne à manquer ou ne joue pas son rôle, le biosclive serait défaillant, s’abimerait dans le chaos de l’atmosphère, laissant dans son sillage (mais il ne resterait alors plus personne pour en parler) une planète inhabitable. Un seul élément manquant (gaz carbonique ou oxygène) ou la formation anormale d’une molécule, sans parler d’un cataclysme a grand échelle, pourrait entrainer la disparition du biosclive et mettre un terme à des millénaires de construction tâtonnante en vue d’un maintien en place.  P73

Etre partie inhérente du biosclive, vivre à travers lui, signifie demeurer en phase avec le tâtonnement qu’il effectue, rester focalisé sur la nature insaisissable et tenue de ce tissu, de cette matrice, d’évènements ont un rythme plus rapide que d’autres. Afin de suivre le rythme (du tâtonnement) du biosclive, il devient nécessaire de prévoir comment lier au mieux les évènements entre eux, en tisser une trame, ce qui sans doute signifie apprendre à varier la vitesse à laquelle on effectue des constructions tâtonnantes en vue d’un maintien en place.

L’architecture opère comme l’une des manières que la vie considère adéquates, de se conduire et de construire. C’est une forme de vie, et il est certain que toutes les formes de vie ont, du moins à ce jour, une existence limitée et incertaine. Néanmoins, jusqu’ici seuls les nomades ont considéré l’architecture comme incontestablement provisoire.

La vie – bios – semblerait constituée d’interactions entre ces constructions tâtonnantes en vue d’un maintien en place et c’est le corps, le corps-en-action, qui joue sans aucun doute le rôle de chef d’orchestre. Les mouvements corporels qui ont lieu au sein du monde bâti et de l’environnement architectural, contribuent en quelque sorte à leur formation et sont en relation avec eux. Ceux qui vivent dans l’environnement architectural l’interprètent et s’y adaptent comme ils peuvent, contribuant ainsi de manière décisive à cette construction tâtonnante en vue d’un maintien en place. Nous ne voulons pas dire que l’architecture existe seulement pour celui qui la regarde ou l’habite, mais plutôt que le corps-en-action et l’environnement architectural ne devraient pas être envisages séparément, ni séparés du biosclive. P74

Faites participer votre pièce, votre milieu architectural du moment, a ce texte. Pour que votre pièce soit utilisable dans ce qui suit, elle a besoin d’être transformée en un ouvrage d’architecture procédurale. Noter l’endroit de la pièce ou vous vous trouver et la direction dans laquelle vous regardez. Pour que cette pièce – la pièce ou vous lisez en ce moment ce livre – se révèle clairement en tant que ce qu’elle est, sélectionnez et gardez a l’esprit un ensemble représentatif de ses caractéristiques. Prenez maintenant la pièce et faites pivoter le sol de 10° sur sa plus grande longueur (sur n’importe quel cote si la pièce est carrée). Faites un double de cette pièce inclinée de la sorte et placez-la à cote de l’original. Faites basculer le plancher du double de façon à ce qu’il finisse par s’incliner dans la direction opposée.
ARCHITECTE : Maintenant nous sommes allés dans les deux pièces. Il apparait que les deux, mises ensemble, constituent l’impact qu’a sur nous un environnement architectural, c’est-à-dire la pièce dans laquelle vous êtes en train de lire ce livre.
LECTEUR : J’appréhende différemment l’inclinaison de cette même pièce dans chacune de ses deux représentations.
ARCHITECTE : C’est parfait. P70


# ARAKAWA/GINS /// Reversible Destiny Loft in Action: A Tentative Report from a Resident by Shingo Tsuji

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Reversible Destiny (Mitaka) Lofts – In Memory of Helen Keller /// Photograph by Shingo Tsuji (2013)

When I visited the Reversible Destiny Foundation‘s Mitaka Lofts (see previous article) in Tokyo last year, I encountered one of its resident, Shingo Tsuji, who is an also an architect (Chiasma Factory) and was kind enough to make me visit his apartment. Since then, we became friends, and I recently “curated” him a small reportage about the details of his life in this particular dwelling. I asked him to take some pictures of his apartment and point out a few significant details that are characteristic to his “reversible destiny” way of life. I feel very lucky as he not only did it with talent but also introduced those fragments of life within the context of Arakawa and Madeline Gins’ lifetime work as well as the various prejudices that often judge it. As you will see, the Reversible Destiny life is not as different as one might think it is from a more “traditional” way of life; nevertheless, the actual difference is crucial and definitely influence both the body and its behavior (mood, inspiration, aura etc.) as you will read along Shingo’s lines.

I take advantage of this post to add that the guest writers essays series will resume in a very near future and that Shingo will be part of the writers that we will be very lucky to be able to read.

Reversible Destiny Loft in Action: A Tentative Report from a Resident (all following photographs also by S. Tsuji)
by Shingo Tsuji

“Interesting, fun, lovable, exciting… but probably NOT livable!” – this might be a good brief of typical comments from visitors to Mitaka Reversible Dstiny Loft (or those who see it in pictures or on TV) in its empty state. It is true, but only in a very limited sense: it may not be livable as long as you are caught up in a narrow – but, I have to admit, very strong – orthodox concept of a “house” (and, I should add, a “body”), which is actually nothing but a cultural and historical implant and not a universal idea (although many would argue that a physically simple and functionally clear-cut house is, no matter where and when, the most livable according to universal human attributes that are presupposed in, for example, fields like ergonomics, universal design and, above all, orthodox modernist architecture).
As a 4-year resident of the Loft and the only practicing architect living/working there, I would like to challenge the typical view on the livability of this particular built environment and, if I can go that far, even show that it’s more livable (in a particular sense of the word that Arakawa and Gins would have given to it) than a standard, square-cut, colorless houses with flat floors, walls and ceilings. As an awkward writer (no matter what language I use), however, I here choose to show actual pictures of my room – formally named “Critical Resemblance Unit C” by Arakawa and Gins – in its living (i.e., not empty, inactivated) state with short comments, instead of writing an elongated, yet perhaps less-convincing counterstatement.
All the pictures below are casual snapshots of my Loft unit – or, I would say, a part of my Architectural Body (another term by Arakawa and Gins). As such, some (or, some of you may say all) of the scenes may look a kind of messy – but I would be pleased if the readers take it as the evidence of livability in somewhat different sense than the word usually implies.

1.    Interior view (see photo above)
With its circular plan and panoramic openness (most of the exterior partition is composed of glass windows of various sizes), the room resets, or at least confuses, our ordinary perspective sense of space. The entire unit space – consisting of circular core with four attachment cells (two boxes, one tube and one sphere) around – is not clearly divided according to functions, but loosely differentiated into overlapping zones. One of my friends said, after spending a few ours here, it somehow feels like looking inside my brain. According to another friend, “it’s a place you can never be really sad or angry” – and I definitely agree with him.

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2.    Kitchen
The central core of the loft functions like a cockpit of the unit: whoever occupies here seems to take control of the air of the room almost automatically. It provides the best space for cooking, eating, working, eating, reading, talking… that is, most of the things I do in my everyday life – and the good thing is I can do all these things here at the same time, which reminds me of the usage of traditional Japanese “chano-ma” (family room with tatami floor) which accommodates various daily events like eating, watching TV and sleeping, etc. at different times of a day.

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3.    Living Zone (a kind of)
There was a sofa at this corner when I started to live here, but I always felt something odd about it. The feeling was gone when I replaced it by two hammock chairs – as it somehow liberated the space from a fixed function, making it more tentative and lighter. The exterior light comes in through the glass all around the unit for 24 hours a day (daylight during a day and city light during a night), helping to blur the atmospheric boundary of inside and outside.

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4.    Hanging furniture
The first challenge that all who have decided to live in the Loft is about how to keep a stock space, as there is only a few flat ground to accommodate ordinary furniture and stockwares here. Once moving in, a new resident is soon to find that (s)he is provided, with Arakawa and Gins’s grace, with countless eyebolts on the ceiling instead, which encourage us to use the ceiling (usually just a useless flat plane above your head) as a new ground to put our staff on – and as s a result, the visitors will find a lots of floating boxes, baskets and staff hanging from above, many of which are colorful as the Loft itself. Put these story aside, it’s definitely much more fun to hang them than to place them on the damn ground!

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5.    Blue Sphere Cell
To be honest, the blue sphere room (officially called “the study”) remains the hardest to appropriate and the most attractive zone at the same time, even after four years of my residency. I occasionally enjoy reading or just relaxing here, but it feels like there’s something more I shall discover. I have to add that this is the place where kids enjoy the most (they spend most of their time here on their visit without exception), and show great dexterity to play with it.

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6.    Sanitary Tube Cell
The green and yellow tube (the color differs by unit) or the “reversed giraffe tube” (guess why) containing sanitary devices such as washing machine, shower and lavatory units is, from a functional point of view, the most “fixed” space in the Loft.  It takes some time to find a way to balance yourself in front of the washing stand (placed behind the green wall on the right) on the slippery round surface. After a few weeks of residency, however, it becomes almost like an instinctive movement for us residents.

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7.    Orange Box Cell (Bed Room)
One of the reasons I chose this unit among a few alternatives (there were other two or three vacant units when I applied) is this beautiful orange box. Textbook theory usually recommends soft colors with low intensity for resting space – but who cares? With this energetic orange as the first sight to jump in my retina every morning, waking up has become kind of a daily treat for me. Another thing I found is that, housewares and items that would usually look uncool or almost stupid (like the lamp in the picture) looks very good in, and perfectly fit with this colorful and shapeful Loft.

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8.    Bumpy Terrain
The bumpy, undulated floor is the reason for many people to think this is not an easy, if not inappropriate, place to live in, even though they all admit it is definitely a fun part of it. However, once moving in, you will be surprised how fast your body learns to adjust itself on the given terrain to a degree that you can move freely, even in the dark, without worrying about losing your balance (it is interesting, though, I still occasionally feel the presence of my sole and the floor as I walk, which never happens, of course, on usual flat floors). Again, kids are the fastest and the best learner, and it’s interesting to see how some of them actually snatch the ground as they move around.

As a closing word, I should add that the pictures here just show my particular way of using, appropriating, playing and having fun with the Loft, and I know that the other residents have their own way of doing so, which are very much different from each other. I hope to have a chance to present a report on the fellow residents’ way of life here in Mitaka Reversible Destiny Loft in the near future.

 


# TOPIE IMPITOYABLE /// What Is a Clumsy Body?

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Gaston Lagaffe - FranquinExtracted from the Comic-strip Gaston Lagaffe by André Franquin

After having shared my experience of what a hypochondriac body might really be (see past article), I am now looking at another recurrent aspect of my own body: clumsiness! I am probably not the only one to regularly trip, make a (filled) glass fall on the table or bang my head into a low element; it seems therefore interesting to wonder what a clumsy body is really about.

Clumsiness is essentially occurring through a discrepancy of the understanding of the surrounding space by a given body, and the ‘actual’ layout of things. In other words, my body is aware that there is a glass on the table but its mapping of the position of the glass is sufficiently erroneous that I end up punching the glass that now pour its liquid on the totality of the table! It is well-known that the sense of vision, when not complemented by the other senses, can be deceitful as optical illusions reveal. A body that is not relating too much on its vision might be able to move confidently in the dark for example. We assumed to much that we know our sensory system and which organ is supposed to sense what. As presented by Hiroko Nakatani in her guest writer essay “Dissolving Minds and Bodies,” a device to apply on the tongue has been invented by neuroscientist Paul Bach-y-Rita, which allows blind people to have a spatial reading of their surrounding. The way animals like bats read their environment through waves of ultrasounds whose echo can allow a mapping of the limits of the space, is also extremely interesting in the variety of means through which a space and its elements can be understood by a body.

Nevertheless, the potentially erroneous mapping of the surrounding that a body does for itself, is only half of what composes clumsiness. The second erroneous mapping is the one that the body makes of itself as well. In other words, a clumsy body is one that does not know where it influence stops. I voluntarily do not write that a clumsy body is one that does not know its physical limits as these limits do not actually stop at the skin as we will remark further. We take for granted that we know exactly where the parts of our body are situated in space but the experience of clumsiness shows us that we actually don’t. I am not a dancer but I have been having an amateur sportive activity for many years and it helps me to suppose that before ‘acquiring’ a collection of gestures that inert bodies would not be able to accomplish immediately, a physical activity that involves an excellent coordination of the body, primarily requires the most accurate mapping of our own body in space.

Such a mapping can be done by the cautious attention to the way the environment affects our body, but it can also be done performatively by experiencing and observing the movement of our body. In this regard, in a recent conversation I was lucky to have with dancer-philosopher Erin Manning, she was telling me that working with autistic children made her realize that, when these children flaps their limbs repeatedly, they actually attempt to establish the limits of their bodies in relation to their spatial environment.

What are the limits of our body? We often consider that the skin constitutes it and we have an image of it that makes us think that it is an impermeable wall that protects the citadel of our body from the surrounding world. In reality, the skin is porous — the action of sweating is the most illustrative example — and constitute only a simulacrum of limit for our body. Our hair is not part of our nervous system but nobody would deny it as being fully part of our body: it is a first layer of body ‘outside’ the epidermic one. What about the air that we move as a consequence of any movement of our body? This volume makes you realize that someone is right behind you without seeing nor ‘touching’ her (him) or makes cards castle fall — clumsiness again! — while being at a distance of it. Should this volume be considered as part of our body? Maybe, maybe not. The question is difficult to answer when we think in terms of the question “where does our body stop?” rather than the one “what is the field of influence of our body?” or “what is the degree of dispersion of our body?”

These two last questions allow to think in terms of intensity rather than in terms of limits. The well-known butterfly effect — a butterfly that flaps its wings at a given moment is part of a totality of repercussions that can end up creating a hurricane later — addresses this problem: we need to think holistically and recognize that, despite the fact that the intensity of the field of influence of our body decreases as the distance from our body increase, this influence is infinite. The forces that move the world are nothing else than these fields of influence colliding with each other — even when it breaks glasses!

What that means in term of design is that architecture, which organize our bodies in space, can be conceived as taking a conscious part in this collusion of fields of influence. Designers/artists Arakawa and Madeline Gins call this holistic consideration for the body and its physical surroundings, Architectural Body (see past article); in this case, the body is no longer defined by its material limits, but rather by the way it composes relationships with its environment. Such an architecture invites us not to be clumsy anymore, but rather, to act like dancers, parkourers, gymnasts, funambulists with our environment, whatever our specific body’s physical abilities might be.



# TOPIE IMPITOYABLE /// Thanatopolitics: Managing the Acceleration/Deceleration of the Death Process

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fukushima-child_2280896b

Yesterday I was having an epistolary exchange with my friend, Philippe Theophanidis about a few notions that are examined in his forthcoming text for the Funambulist Papers series. In his text, Philippe remarks that biopolitical systems are not only organizing and acting on the life of its subjects, it also involves what he calls “a work of death.” By this, he does not mean the same thing that what Michel Foucault designates as being the pre-modern paradigm (before the 18th century), in which a sovereign has the absolute power of life and death of his (her) subjects. Death in a biopolitical regime should be understood, not as an event, but rather as a continuous process. We can take Xavier Bichat‘s definition of life that I gave several times in my articles, “life is the set of functions that resists to death,” and conclude its implicit corollary: death is the continuous process that life needs to function against. In other words, death is an always active entropic operation on the totality of the bodies that composes the world.

Starting from this definition, we can understand that the speed of the process of death of our own body as an assemblage of multiple entities (see past article) can be influenced by external agents. It cannot be stop, and therefore there is no immortality possible as a definitive status; however, it can be decelerated as the work of Arakawa and Madeline Gins (see the fifteen articles already dedicated to their work) attempt to do through architecture. That is how I interpret how they call the action that they try to have each body accomplishing continuously: “not dying” i.e. resisting to death i.e. living. The state that we call “healthy” is not constituted by the absence of action of death, but rather by the active sync of our body’s biology with the one of its environment. As Georges Canguilhem says in the conclusion of The Normal and the Pathological (1966), “Man is healthy insofar as he is normative relative to the fluctuations of his milieu.”

The inverse is also true: it is possible to accelerate the death process — let’s symply call it death once and for all — and we can call the totality of elements that can participate to it, toxicity. We should understand toxic or poison in a Spinozist manner here (see past article): a disharmonious relation between our body and an external entity to keep it simply. In that case, there is no such thing as an essential toxicity. One thing is always toxic in relation to another; — that is something that should be clearly stated in ecological theory — however, we can understand that there are some things that are toxic to the totality of humans and, for this reason, a political organization of the means of acceleration of death can be implemented.

Whether we call it bio(life)political or thanato(death)political organization, we do not necessarily have to understand it through its extreme, like in the tragic case that is currently unfolding in Syria with the use of chemical weapons on civilians, or with the example of the tear gas that Philippe has chosen to focus on in his own text. The problematic choice of the production of energy for an entire civilization — a biopolitical choice par excellence since the way we live is almost entirely dependent on it — can be illustrative of it too. Carbon power plants are known to be toxic for humans; however nuclear accidents like the ones in Chernobyl or Fukushima have the potentiality to (transparently) modify the molecular composition of an extremely large (atmospheric, telluric and aquatic) milieu into a highly toxic milieu for humans and other forms of life — although not all of them, hence the relativity of what can be considered toxic. As Canguilhem points out, the disease that results from this toxic milieu that accelerate death in a body is not death at work itself, but rather the body’s defense mechanisms operating to resist to it:

Disease is not simply disequilibrium or discordance; it is, and perhaps most important, an effort on the part of nature to effect a new equilibrium in a man. Disease is a generalized reaction designed to bring about a cure; the organism develops a disease in order to get well. (Georges Canguilhem, The Normal and the Pathological, trans Carolyn R. Fawcett, New York: Zone Books, 1991. 40), also quoted in another past article

Thanatopolitics are also operating in the calculus of food production. The debate the question of transgenicity is illustrative of it, but so are the other means of massive agriculture: machines, fertilizers, cattle’s life conditions etc. Each decision made for this matter has an impact on the acceleration or deceleration of death for this given system’s subjects. Of course, here as well, it is not as simple as simply reducing the agricultural production pace, and the recent shift from fields dedicated to food production to ecological fuel production is known to have heavy consequences on the world’s famine.

A last realm in which thanatopolitics are actively operating is the one of sexuality and reproduction. As described several times here, someone like Beatriz Preciado defines the biopolitical regime as a pharmacopornographic one (see past article): one in which sexuality as a social process of normalization is organized through a performative regime associated to the production of drugs. The contraceptive pill is, for her/him, the paradigmatic designed object of such a regime: voluntarily ingested — it therefore requires a culture that comes with it — it regulates a variety of hormones of the female body — the extents of its effects, and therefore its toxicity is still not clear yet — while insuring a political strategy of demographic control by preventing the species’s reproduction. Here again, this example is problematic as the contraceptive pill has also allowed female sexuality to be dissociated from the social constraining role of reproductive operation.

In conclusion, thanatopolitics should not be considered as morally reprehensible since death is, as expressed above, a continuous and inevitable entropic process: for this reason there cannot be biopolitics and biopower without thanatopolitics and thanatopower. However, the various deliberate influence on the speed of death, whether they constitute a deceleration or an acceleration, are to be debated and responsibilized by those on who such process is applied. This debate is the core of an operative democracy of bodies.


# ARAKAWA/GINS /// “All Men Are Sisters” : A Joy Named Madeline Gins

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Madeline Gins with Joke Post at the recent opening of the Biotopological Scale-Juggling Escalator on December 20, 2013 (photo by Momoyo Homma)

This is not an obituary.

Since yesterday morning Madeline Gins is no longer fighting against death; she finally embraced its entropic forces and her body will soon disperse in the “bioscleave,” a word Arakawa and her invented to describe the unfathomable forces at work in the material word. This platform is not an appropriate place for emotions, not even for those felt for a dear friend and inspirational mentor. This is why, I would rather celebrate the joy that was named Madeline Gins by, once again, writing about her work instead. Punctuating death is still to misinterpret it into an event; it was at work all-along, life — and what a life! — was the creativity resisting it.

Before exploring Gins’s writings, and since no poetic text — probably no text for that matter — could not possibly be considered the same way depending on the way it is read, I would like to give you the opportunity to hear her words through her voice directly as I recently recorded her, reading what she calls “the Reversible Destiny Declaration” :

Download: we-have-decided-not-to-die-1.m4a

Transcript: “Our species has made a declaration. Let us call this the Reversible Destiny Declaration. We will not just take it anymore. We won’t no longer throw ourselves into the mortality waste-baskets. Shall we put in the following gentle but firm way. Oh yes we shall! Enough is enough. We have decided not to die. And how do we go about doing this? Through architectural procedures, made explicitly to help us reconfigure ourselves. If you do not yet know what an architectural procedure is, you will know soon. Start with this declaration, and never back away from it: we have decided not to die.” (November 22, 2013)

In 1984, after the publication of Gins’s second solo book What the President Will Say and Do! (Station Hill, 1984, also accessible online here) John Cage stated that “any man, woman, or child who intends to lead itself into presidency should get a copy, reading it before taking any further steps.” This book is another proof if needed that poetry is not a category, but rather a language. Following (knowingly or not) 18th-century feminist Olympe de Gouges and her 1791 Déclaration des droits de la Femme et de la Citoyenne (Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen), she included in this book a chapter entitled “All Men Are Sisters”:

One thing men haven’t realized is that unlike them (all men are mortal), women do not die — This makes all the difference — although some women, having been brow-beaten by sheer syllogistic brawn, have at times pretended.
 
Most women do not look like themselves; although many women do assume the form of “woman;’ some are men, others gas and electricity, and still others are indistinguishable. (Madeline Gins, What the President Will Say and Do, New York: Station Hill, 1984).

Gins’ wink at Simone de Beauvoir in the first sentence — All Men Are Mortal is the name of a 1946 book written by de Beauvoir — unables us not to think of de Beauvoir’s well-known phrase that “one is not born a woman but becomes one.” What Gins brings to de Beauvoir’s statement is an acute sense of corporeality. One does not just become a woman, one — that means, a body — has to “assume the form of ‘woman’.” Forms constitute the semiotic recognized by the norm in its categorization of the bodies: “this one is a man, this one is a woman…” but they also stand for the material assemblage that a body — or “gas and electricity” — can construct in a manifesto against this norm.

We find this opposition to the normative processes in a later book written by Gins: Helen Keller or Arakawa (Burning Books, 1994). Helen Keller is the paradigmatic body — of course, paradigms create new norms — to whom Arakawa and Gins’s architecture is addressed, in particular the Mitaka Lofts (see past article) in Tokyo whose full name is “Reversible Destiny Lofts – In Memory of Helen Keller.” Keller could not see nor hear, two body characteristics considered by the norm as highly disabling, but why exactly again? The very concept of disability can only exist if the concept of ability also exists. What that means is that a given society is organized according to the way of operate of the normatively considered “able bodies”:

I find nothing I perceive to be essentially invisible. In a world of all blind people, everything would be non-visible, and it would be trivial to point out one thing or another as being so. To the blind, terms like “invisible” are but polite bridges (with much torque and of odd construction) to the sighted; curtsey, and say ,yes ,ma’am. When I’m not speaking in the other’s voice, I perceive things directly, fielding them as best as I can. (Madeline Gins, Helen Keller or Arakawa, New York: Burning Books, 1995, 2.)

It is common to say that the “blinds” — a category created based upon the supposed lack of something — develop a more acute sense of hearing in order to “survive” in the world. This constitutes a very simplified understanding of how a non-seeing body operates, a simple transfer of intensity of one understandable sense to another. What Gins describes through the person of Keller however is more complex:

Nevertheless, a having once been marked with the condition of invisibility goes so far — so far-going has it been in this marked vessel as to have completely spread through me — as to lead to where it began: myself unseen. Here’s the sum of all of that (and soundless!), plus a whole other set of X’s, hidden. As the provisional sum of all of these, I direct the traffic of weightedly perceptible “invisibles” from a within. The nearly perceptible is thoroughly perceptible enough to me. I have never been able to find the cut-off points for this within. Rather, this “within” acts as if it were boundlessly stretching out — if one were to include the full spread of all the ripples and ripplings — into a distance ambiguously endless.
 
Of course, actions taken by me have a great deal to do with how this distance forms. More than fifty regular actions and easily the same number of micro-actions determine enveloping and the tissues of density near and far on which this depends.
 
And this is the way I do inhabit the non-visible; as a stretched-out mass onto which the layout of the world is to be placed to be remembered. The “living canvas” is not a bad nickname for someone who strives to keep track of things the way I do. Distinct spots tell of themselves proprioceptively or kinaesthetically. What’s happening within my right shoulder is two and one-quarter feet distant from what goes on within the left one. One moment’s spot is another moment’s distance. I situate things and events by means of these. Spots, areas, distance expand and reduce to become one another, occasionally without my knowing it. I have what’s happening within my left shoulder cleaving slightly less than two and one-quarter feet distant from those events peculiar to my right one. I keep these two shoulders separate and at the distance from each other that they, by nature, by the nature of (my) body, deserve to be; only when I’m forced to move exceedingly fast — to go as swift as a bullet — do I allow them to be given as a single dot of a place named shoulder. (Madeline Gins, Helen Keller or Arakawa, New York: Burning Books, 1995, 3-4.)

Since, as noted numerous times on this blog, we still have a very poor knowledge to the Spinozist question, “what can a body do” (see past article), the entire artificiality of the norm appears clearly when it distributes grades of ability. This is why the work of Arakawa and Gins remain highly political, it takes as a predicate this ignorance and, from it, build a more acute understanding of what a body can do, while the norm pretends it knows what a body can’t do in order to organize the bodies that compose a society.

The joy named Madeline Gins does not form a body that compose this society however, her and Arakawa’s five-decade long work remains for us to carry forward this joy.

# THE FUNAMBULIST PAMPHLETS /// Volume 08: Arakawa + Madeline Gins Now Published

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The eighth volume of The Funambulist Pamphlets that gathers and edits past articles (as well as additional illustrations) of the blog about the philosophical-poetic-artistic-architectural work of Arakawa, Madeline Gins and their Reversible Destiny Foundation is now officially published by Punctum Books in collaboration with the Center for Transformative Media at Parsons The New School. You can either download the book as a PDF for free or order it online for the price of $17.00 or €15.00. This price is higher than usual and we apologize for it, but this specific pamphlet required its illustrations to be in color, hence this punctual raise within the series. Click here to see the other volumes of The Funambulist Pamphlets.

Thank you to Eileen Joy, Anna Kłosowska, Ed Keller, Madeline Gins, Joke Post, Momoyo Homma, Sheung Tang Luk, Shingo Tsuji, Stanley Shostak, Russel Hughes, Hiroko Nakatani, and Esther Cheung

Official page of The Funambulist Pamphlets Volume 08: ARAKAWA + MADELINE GINS on Punctum Books’ website.

Our species has made a declaration. Let us call this the Reversible Destiny Declaration. We will not just take it anymore. We will no longer throw ourselves into the mortality waste-baskets. Shall we put it in the following gentle but firm way? Oh yes we shall! Enough is enough. We have decided not to die. And how do we go about doing this? Through architectural procedures, made explicitly to help us reconfigure ourselves. If you do not yet know what an architectural procedure is, you will know soon. Start with this declaration, and never back away from it: we have decided not to die. ~Madeline Gins

Index of the Book

Introduction: Towards an Architecture of Joy
01/ Architectures of Joy: A Spinozist Reading of Parent/Virilio and Arakawa/Gins’s Architecture
02/ Applied Spinozism: Architectures of the Sky vs. Architectures of the Earth
03/ Architecture of the Conatus: “Tentative Constructing Towards a Holding in Place”
04/ Architectures of Joy: A Conversation Between Two Puzzle Creatures [Part A]
05/ Architectures of Joy: A Conversation Between Two Puzzle Creatures [Part B]
06/ Domesticity in the Reversible Destiny’s Architectural Terrains
07/ Reversible Destiny Loft in Action: A Tentative Report from a Resident by Shingo Tsuji
08/ A Subversive Approach to the Ideal Normalized Body
09/ The Counter-Biopolitical Bioscleave Experiment Imagined by Stanley Shostak
10/ Funambulist Paper #35 / DIY Biopolitics: The Deregulated Self by Russel Hughes
11/ Letter from Jean-Francois Lyotard to Arakawa and Madeline Gins
12/ Architectures for Non-Dying Creatures: The Artistic-Philosophical-Poetic-Architectural Work of Arakawa and Gins
13/ “All Men Are Sisters”: A Joy Named Madeline Gins

# THE FUNAMBULIST PAPERS 51 /// Dress Becomes Body: Fashioning the Force of Form by Erin Manning

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Comme des Garçons AW 2010/2011

Today’s Funambulist Paper complements well yesterday’s launch of the eighth volume of the Funambulist Pamphlets dedicated to the work of Arakawa and Madeline Gins since my guest, Erin Manning (see my interpretations of her books 1 and 2) examines in her extensive text their shared interpretation of design and the body with Comme des Garçonsfounder and designer Rei Kawakubo. An anecdote is always a good way introduction, so I will say that Erin and I convened of the topic of her essay while we were at Comme des Garçons’s Dover Street Market New York inside Madeline Gins and the Reversible Destiny‘s recently built permanent monumental stairs — to which I am happy to have contributed — before recording a conversation for Archipelago. There is therefore no chance involved in these multiple inspirational bridges!

In the following text, Erin articulates how Arakawa+Gins and Kawakubo’s creative methodology both embrace the idea that we don’t really know what a body is, and what it can do. Such a statement does not seem much, but as we have seen numerous times on this blog, fathoming this simple fact have tremendous consequences both in the creative and political realms. Kawakubo says herself that she does not want to make clothes; this can appear as odd for a fashion designer but, as explained by Erin, it needs to be understood in the refusal to separate the cloth to the body. In other words, Kawakubo does not design cloth as such, but rather shapes bodies without knowing in advance what they should be, thus denying the power of the norm.

THE FUNAMBULIST PAPERS 51 /// Dress Becomes Body: Fashioning the Force of Form

by Erin Manning

My intention is not to make clothes.

-Rei Kawakubo

 Some shapes hold things apart

-Madeline Gins

“Cut to invent anew,” proposes Rei Kawakubo, owner and designer of Comme des Garçons. “Make an abstract image.” “Break the idea of clothes.”

These propositions are procedural: they activate a field of inquiry. For Madeline Gins and Arakawa, the procedural is much more than a set of instructions. While instructions are usually organized according to a linear set, the procedure is an activator. It opens the way for a process not yet defined. And it asks to be returned to, again and again, toward different results. “Let the word ‘procedure’ stand for that which baffles us as to what it is even as it brings us world” (Madeline Gins)[1]

“Break the idea of clothes,” has been Kawakubo’s call for over 40 years, a call that has not only motivated the creation of some of the most intriguing clothes of the late 20th and early 21st century, but that has also actualized the potential for textile to architect a field of experience according to which a body is invited to continuously reinvent itself. In this sense, Kawakubo has pushed and continues to push the Spinozist mantra “we know not what a body can do” to its limit, recasting not only the realm of fashion but the way fashion situates itself in relation to other practices.

Architecture is one of those practices. That Kawakubo’s creations are sculptural is well-known, but they are also more than that, they are architectural propositions. To say that fashion is architectural is often to speak of it in representational terms. Despite the visible architectonics of Kawakubo’s designs, this is not my approach here. What I want to argue instead is that Kawakubo’s textile creations function architecturally in ways that far exceed representation. They are productive. And it is in this sense that they are allied to what Arakawa and Gins call a procedural architecture.

Arakawa and Gins define procedural architectures in terms of overlapping tissues of density. They are dense because of their propositional nature, because it is what they can do that is foregrounded, more so than how they look, or who they site. Procedural architecture is the creation, through architecture, of a set of conditions that enable a continuous counterpoint of propositions. Architecture understood this way must be considered beyond the built environment. To conceptualize the move between what architecture can do as a built environment and what it can do as a “world-constituting procedure,” Arakawa and Gins emphasize the bioscleave, an intermezzo that works as a persistent reminder that what sites life also cleaves the environment, the environment never a passive participant in this experiential cut.

The cleaving of experience in the making is key to a procedural approach. Cleaving cuts open the field of experience. This cut has the effect of singling out this or that event, subtracting it out from vague potential not yet realized in felt experience. The cleave is that which activates, which tweaks the in-act toward the actual occasion.

A procedural approach depends on the rigour of the proposition, on its capacity to activate the cleaving while not limiting the experience to only the act of the cut. What is at stake here is the way the procedural can open up a field of relation or an emergent ecology such that it can activate the conditions for the continued interplay that keeps life in the process of self-invention. Most architectures, Arakawa and Gins argue, do anything but, deintensifying instead the potential for difference. We follow their routes, we embrace their limits, and in doing so our lives become predictably oriented by them. What if instead we built toward the density of experience, beginning not with form but with the textures of experience, embracing the force of form that is the lively between of environment and body? What if instead of assuming that the built environment contained the pre-constituted body we interested ourselves in the amalgam of their co-constitution?

The challenge is that the procedures of a procedural architecture must continuously be reinvented to stay apace with the architecting of experience. No procedure is failsafe, nor does one procedure work in all similar circumstances. A procedure must be crafted with care, must be relevant to the conditions already at hand, must be capable of activating the ecology of which it is part, must have enough longevity to leave a trace. More procedures fail than succeed. But this is part of their importance, that they put us in the way of experimenting.

A procedure is always connected to a constraint. At its best, this constraint is enabling. It asks of habit that it activate its conditions of possibility. From here, the procedure pushes possibility to its limit, excavating at the edges where possibility and potential meet. This is where the procedure most often fails: habits die hard, including our habits of reconstructing the already-known. A procedural architecting will not be capable of opening up the field of experience if the manner of opening contains the habit fully-formed. What is essential is to work from the habit’s edging into experience, experimenting with the ways a habit’s repetition activates minor departures from the norm. The only habit which holds on absolutely to its form is the habit of reducing experience to the already-known.

Both Arakawa and Gins and Kawakubo trust habit to the extent that they see it as a symptomatic reading of the everyday that will in some way figure in the procedural. The habit constrains the everyday, finding pathways through it. A procedural architecting looks at these pathways to see where else they go in their minor tendencies and seeks to amplify these shifts in direction. The world-constituting procedure that is the extension of the architectural procedure must never be fully abstracted from the force of these minor tendencies.

This is another way of saying that what architectural procedures do, before they create architectures, is create modes of existence. Modes of existence as Etienne Souriau defines them, are not states but passages. They are the transitory and fragile interstices of experience that make a difference. It is through them that experience becomes singularly what it is.

Modes of existence neither emerge from nor belong to a subject. They do not define existence, they propose it. Similar to the Whiteheadian actual occasion, modes of existence are ecologies that activate a field of concern. This concern is active in the event itself, a concern for the world in its unfolding. They are less species than speciations where speciation is understood as an emergent ecology rather than as a conglomeration of pre-categorized forms. They are speciations because they don’t name a state, but activate a modality that pushes existence to its intensive limit. They are speciations because they don’t fit into existence preformed but activate the minor gestures of its most potentializing edgings into experience. As such they are ecologies, ecologies in the sense that they are fields of relation that activate differential tendencies in the milieu of their co-composition. They act, they cut, they reorient: modes of existence are world-constituting procedures.

Modes of existence are precarious. They come into being out of a necessity that has a procedural tending. But they do not outlive the procedural. They emerge as they are needed and perish in the creation of new fields of experience. It is not their stability that makes a difference, but the persuasiveness by which they affect all that comes into contact with them. This persuasiveness is in and of the event of their coming-to-be.

Enabling Constraint

For Rei Kawakubo, the constraint is a key procedure. While Kawakubo emphasizes the necessity for creation of an open field for experimentation, there is always focused attention in her practice to the quality of constraints and how they enable the potential not only of the fabric she works with, but of the very tissues of density she takes as her matter of concern. For Kawakubo as for Arakawa and Gins, what is at stake is not simply the form the product takes. What matters is how the constraint embedded in the procedure becomes enabling of new processes.

Body and environment are for Kawakubo the complicit partners in the reorientation of what textile can do. They are her palate. But neither are predefined, and as importantly, she does not pretend to know where to find the force of their co-composition. Her orientation is always toward the activation of a field of relation, an ecology of practices. This ecology, her process suggests, needs to be invented, activated, rather than searched out. She explains: “Going around museums and galleries, seeing films, talking to people, seeing new shops, looking at silly magazines, taking an interest in the activities of people in the street, looking at art, travelling: all these things are not useful, all these things do not help me, do not give me any direct stimulation to help my search for something new. And neither does fashion history. The reason for that is that all these things above already exist.”[2] Kawakubo is not inspired by the already existent configurations that make up our worlds. She wants to create at their interstice, in their coming-to-be: “In order to make this SS14 collection, I wanted to change the usual route within my head. I tried to look at everything I look at in a different way. I thought a way to do this was to start out with the intention of not even trying to make clothes. I tried to think and feel and see as if I wasn’t making clothes.”[3]

For Kawakubo, what is at stake is the making itself, not the making of the object. The object does not define the purpose, and cannot be subsumed to it. What she strives toward is to create a series of enabling constraints that are procedural enough to create a mode of existence. In this regard, hers is a procedural fashioning: for each new process she invents procedures that push the very idea of what a garment can be to its limit. Kawakubo seeks not the final form, not the production of a neutral layer for the pre-existing body, but the very creation of a propositional field that activates what a body can do in its co-constitution with an emergent environment.

This process of engaging with the working of the work is what Souriau calls “faire oeuvre.” Like the mode of existence, which never names an existence as final form but instead composes in the between of existence’s necessity, or existence’s persuasiveness, the oeuvre à faire is the force of making that only knows itself as such after the fact in the tense of “Oh! This is what I was looking for!” (Souriau 2009: 109).

The not-knowing-in-advance is part of the procedure. Knowing is always to some degree reducible to the already-known. Habit will play a part, but it must be procedurally tweaked. What emerges from the process must push the habit to its limit, but it will only be able to do so if we understand habit as an ecology.

The habitual carries within itself a certain degree of belief. The ecology of practices that is fashion believes, for instance, that it makes sense that a dress follow the shape of our body-envelope. This, we have come to learn, is how we clothe a body. Within the event of fashioning, we know, of course, that there have been other ecologies of practices within fashion, both cultural and historical, that have cut cloth in ways that accentuate parts of the body in ways that are today unimaginable.[4] But even within the realm of the unimaginable – the bustle may not come back into fashion for a while yet despite Yamamoto’s and Kawakubo’s best efforts! – there are degrees. Each new season in the fashion world does bring something new, and the purchasers of fashion do tend to be open to trying out a change in shape, in cut, in texture. Sure, we collectively say, lengthen and accentuate the legs with skinny jeans! And then, the next year it once again seems perfectly plausible to widen the pant for the shortening of the leg that accentuates the waist. Despite the normative directions of fashion’s operations, mutability does have its place. As long as its tendings are relative to what came before, fashion’s mutations tend to be accepted as the continuation of the norm.

Comme des Garcons - Erin Manning - Funambulist02(left) Comme des Garçons SS 1997 / (right) Yohji Yamamoto AW87

That difference must remain relative to what came before is the important point here. While change is an option, the commitment to difference in seasonal fashionings tends to be constrained to possibility: difference rarely engages with not unimaginable not-yet. This way, difference remains predictable – it tends to have historical antecedents that are still recent enough to be alive in our collective memory of what a garment can be. In this regard the tweaking of the habit still remains within the realm of the habitual – it is more of a lateral stretch than a recomposition. But that it can happen at all suggests that there is potential at the edges of everyday repetition. The challenge is seeing the edges not as limited by the forms we are accustomed to. This is the force of Kawakubo’s procedural fashionings, that she understands that the edgings into existence of habit’s mutability are composed of the more-than of form, the more than of the existent shapings of garment-imagination. In this regard, her work is deeply architectural in the sense Arakawa and Gins give to architecture. It proceeds at the pace of a world-constituting procedure.

This potential mutability is at the heart of what Deleuze calls “a belief in the world,” a concept akin to a world-constituting procedure that opens experience to its inventive limit. A belief in the world takes the world-constituting procedure as the processual invention it must remain. For world-constituting never means world-constituted. The fine-tuning must occur in the event – it is immanent to the event’s coming into itself. This means that the procedure has to be able to activate an enabling constraint that keeps it open to the belief. In any given context, this constraint  will necessarily have to work in the interplay between the habit’s stability and its mutability. When the procedure tends too far toward habit’s stability, its potential will likely be more disabling than when it is opened toward the potential difference within the very same habit. Much tweaking is necessary to find the right balance between the static and the chaotic.

When it works best, the procedural is capable of creating the conditions for an emergent event. An emergent event is full of the resonances of potential. While on the verge of stabilizing into this or that taking-form, it holds on to its vector of potentiality, doubling onto itself. It is both in-act and acting: a persuasive directionality moving in place, or, as Arakawa and Gins would say, “a tentative constructing toward a holding in place.”

The emphasis on the event’s doubling – its capacity to be present in its futurity – is what allows it to both make a difference in the here and now and keep the future-anterior tense of its potential open to differentiation. It is in the schism of event-time that the procedure does its best work. When the conditions are right and the doubling of existence at its edging into experience is doing its work, a procedural fashioning becomes capable of activating the relational field of experience such that the milieu of existence in its potential modalization is also activated. What is brought into existence here is a co-composition. This co-composition cannot be named in advance. It is only in the event of its culmination, its having-come-to-be (Oh! That’s what it was!) that it will be known as such. This is the tentativeness and fragility at the heart of all procedural fashionings, including those that stray so far from the garment that they becomes wholly architectural in their force of form.

Scales and speeds coexist within this tentative fragility, reminding us that the procedural must work at differing degrees of intensity. Every aspect of the procedure matters. “Everything is tentative, but some things or events have a tentativeness with a faster-running clock than others. So that there can at least be a keeping pace with bioscleave’s tentativeness, it becomes necessary to divine how best to join events into an event-fabric, which surely involves learning to vary this speed at which one fabricates tentative constructings toward holding in place” (2002: 48).

To become procedural, scales and speeds must also be taken up from the perspective of the event. It is the event that has concern for its unfolding, not a subject or object somehow outside it. Procedures must therefore be crafted that are capable not only of creating the conditions for an event that is available to a human perspective (within the scales and speeds of our own emergent bodyings), but that are also capable of fielding difference in its unpredictable complexity in the arena of the more-than human.

In Arakawa and Gins’ writings, as in Kawakubo’s, there is sometimes the sense that the human body rears up as though it were a starting point rather than one of many potential fields of activation within the relational milieu. And yet, a closer look at the workings of their work (including their writing, in the case of Arakawa and Gins) makes it amply apparent that it is the event of the work’s workings that matters. In terms of what they can do, both Arakawa and Gins’ architectings and Kawakubo’s fashionings challenge the view that the human subject is at the centre of experience and that the body can be abstracted out from the complexity of the milieu in its co-composition. Arakawa and Gins write: “We do not mean to suggest that architecture exists only for the one who beholds or inhabits it, but rather that the body-in-action and the architectural surround should not be defined apart from each other, or apart from bioscleave. Architectural works can direct the body’s tentative constructing toward a holding in place, its forming in place. But it is also the case that how the body moves determines what turns out to hold together as architecture for it” (2002: 50). The tentativeness of the procedural is directed not toward a preexistent intentionality that drives the potential of the emergent ecology. The tentativeness is instead driven by tentativeness, the operations procedural at their core. Questions of how outdo questions of what at every turn, the process itself determining the force of what comes to be, a coming-to-be that, at its procedural best, remains doubled in the act of its existence in the time of the event. How the procedural activates a cleaving and what that cleaving can do in its activation of existence’s doubling onto itself is what matters, and the bios in the bioscleave is never the human pre-formed, but the very question of how life-living intersects with what has emerged in the doing.

Kawakubo does not design for a pre-existing form. She designs in the event-fabric of a reorienting of what fashioning can be. She begins with the creation of an enabling constraint, exploring how the constraint can create a procedure whose path her creative practice can follow. “I put parts of patterns where they don’t usually go. I break the idea of ‘clothes.’ I think about using for everything what one would normally use for one thing. Give myself limitations.”[5] Key to this process is the fact that even the fabric, the materiality of the proposition that moves her work, becomes procedural, oriented toward a tentative encounter with emergent modes of existence that activate a bodying not yet defined. In Kawakubo’s practice, procedurality moves materiality to its limit.

That Kawakubo’s experiments are not constrained to a focus on the garment is necessary: otherwise she would not be capable of pushing the material beyond its attachment to the forms of our most vivid associations. “The main pillar of my activity is making clothes, but this can never be the perfect and only vehicle of expression. I am always thinking of the total idea, and the context of everything. Fashion alone is so far from being the whole story.”[6] The total idea includes the totality of what a material can do, the material here never abstracted from the question of bodying: when Kawakubo asks what the textile is capable of, she is necessarily also asking how a bodying exceeds its putative limits. Creativity is at work, but a creativity not restricted to the creation of an object. When Kawakubo says “one cannot fight the battle without freedom. I think the best way to fight that battle, which equals the unyielding spirit, is in the realm of creation. That’s exactly why freedom and the spirit of defiance is the source (fountainhead) of my energy,” I think what is at stake is not a capitalist creation of the newest new, but the activation of the force of relation that has as its goal the fashioning of a new mode of existence.[7] This new mode of existence is not to be confused with freedom itself. Freedom as Kawakubo defines it (always in conjunction with defiance) is about the not-yet-thought. Freedom is not the goal but the activator of the field of experimentation toward its most productive constraint. Linked to the concept of creativity, which in Whitehead is defined as the “actualization of potentiality,” freedom in Kawakubo’s work is what makes the everyday operational.[8]

Speaking of modes of existence, Souriau writes: “It’s a matter of invention (like you “invent” a treasure)” (2009: 142).  There is no pre-determined existence (just like the treasure only takes form as treasure when it is considered one). The existence is only ever invented from within the field of relation that is the event of experience. Since no two events activate the same field of relation, modes of existence are by necessity interstitial. The mode of existence comes about in relation to how the event makes a demand on experience. The event that makes a demand on experience is the one that needs to be invented. It is the one that is capable of at once being singular and persistent, now and then. Modes of existence are born of such events that are capable of bridging the schism of their double articulation, of retaining the intensity active in the future-presentness of experience in the making.

 Beyond Site

Kawakubo resists being cornered into ethnicity. Where she comes from is an accident of birth, her husband Adrian Joffe reminds a journalist.[9] This is not to say that the country of her birth has no effect. What it means is that the siting of experience at the heart of the creation of modes of existence is emergent, not simply inherited. Historical memory crosses over, but what is at stake in Kawakubo is never a replaying of it in a simple score. She works with it to create world-constituting procedures that are no more Japanese than they are of any other ethnicity. For modes of existence cannot be categorized according to pre-existing categories, be they shapes, nations, ethnicities, genders: it’s what they do that matters.

This is not to underestimate the importance of what came before. As Whitehead would say, nonsensuous perception, the way pastness folds into presentness to tweak the in-act, makes a difference in the coming-to-be of what experience can do. The key is to understand that this nonsensuous perception is not an object fully-formed. It composes with the force of what the present-passing brings to its inheritance. The past is in this way always a futurity in the making. In Kawakubo’s case, one of the areas of inheritance, I believe, is architectural, beginning with the relationship between the kimono and the tatami, patternings that have orientings in common: both carry within their simplicity a complexity of form-takings, both are minimal in their cut, preferring the simplicity of the straight edge, both are open to various interpretations of what a fashioning (of the environment, of the body) can be.

In the kimono, a garment used across genders that is cut in a way that does not conform to an idea of pre-existing body-contours (cut beyond the length of the body, for instance in a style that does not recognize sizing as a point of departure, preferring to foreground texture, colour, the artistry of the textile itself) there is the inheritance of a different way of thinking the pattern. There is a sense of the infinite in the cut of the kimono, of the infinite line. The kimono is not made to fit, its lines are not contouring, its cut is not first and foremost gendering (though its textures can be). How it is worn is what makes the difference, and there of course contouring and gendering both occur. But that this happens in this second stage means that there is a potential inheritance in the activity of dressing that retains of a certain sense of how a pattern can be open to its unfolding rather than constrained to form.

This openness to the line – think the kimono as an assemblage of straight lines – is perhaps what gives Kawakubo the confidence to ask her pattern-makers to work with patterning as an open field of potential. For instance, it is not unusual for her to give her pattern-makers a material intervention as a procedure for creating a garment. In this regard, she engages in an invested relationship of collaboration at the level of what the materials can do before even thinking of the form they can create. She mentions, for instance, giving her pattern-makers a crumpled piece of paper with an invitation to create something else, something that is not yet clothing, not yet architecture, but a mode of existence that brings both into appearance (Rissanen 2007: 3).

The tatami, as I mentioned above, is another example of an inheritance that may have an effect on the kinds of constraints Kawakubo develops in her procedural approach. The tatami as it is used architecturally can be seen as an activator of space’s malleability: the tatami room, in a traditional Japanese context, keeps the environment bare enough that the space can become the conduit for more than one kind of activity. Furniture is kept to an absolute minimum, the space itself open to continuous reorganization. In this regard, the tatami room can be seen as an architecting of mobility in a tentative holding in place that reminds us that “the design process never starts and finishes.”[10]

Both these inheritances encourage us to connect Kawakubo to a certain version of Japaneseness without limiting her to it. Even more so, they encourage us to see that the inheritance is connected to the procedurality at the heart of her practice. These inheritances, if they make a difference, do so only in the way they connect in or energize a procedure, opening experience in its unfolding to the discovery of the oeuvre à faire, not the work as it has been historically pre-oriented, but the work’s working in the now of its evolution.

Comme des Garcons - Erin Manning - Funambulist03Comme des Garçons SS 1997

Take the “Dress Becomes Body” Comme des Garçons Spring-Summer 1997 collection. The public’s response when this collection came out was to see the clothing only with respect to what it did to the preexisting body and how it aligned with or diverged from the history of fashion design. Within this contingent of responses came the unsettled gaze that wondered whether this was a collection that made idealized deformity or disability, whether it was an affront to the body itself.

All of these approaches to the collection are in the mode of first contact. They all depend on a vocabulary of the pre-existent and on the categories available within this vocabulary. But what if we look further, taking Kawakubo’s procedural fashioning at its word. What if instead of beginning from what we know, we began in an encounter with tentativeness? “Persons need to be rescued from self-certainty, but they also need to put their tentativeness in precise order in relation to works of architecture” (Arakawa and Gins 2002: 50).

In the “Dress Becomes Body” collection, a shaping occurs. Why must we assume that this shaping hides a body? Why not take instead this shaping for what it is, as the event in itself? What if instead of assuming that the person is not the shape, we were open to a different concept of personing that included its architecting? Arakawa and Gins speak of “organism that persons.” Could this be what is at stake in “Dress Becomes Body”?

Look again, this time refusing to abstract body from shape. See the personing as the architecting and refrain from selecting out from the emergent shaping the contours of the body’s skin-enveloppe. See the shape for what it is: a new contouring. Acknowledge this tendency to see textile as that which covers and not as a materiality in its own right. See textile in the moving, as an active shaping of what a body can do. See textile as an ecology of practices that is not separate from the body which it clothes. And now wonder at the ways you have become capable of abstracting the one from the other (and then wonder about how you abstract the sitting body from the desk, the walking body from the street, the sleeping body from the bed).

Look again. This time see the shaping not as a still body, but as mobile architecture. Can you see it beyond an image of what you consider a deformation of a preexisting shape? Can you see that the humpback, the strange shoulder-hip tumour may not prefigure the grotesque body of your horrified imagination but might instead remind you of what you see every day as you walk around the wintry city of Montreal?

Look again. Now see the tentative architectures. See the movement that was made invisible by the tendency to abstract textile from body. See the backpack, see the cross-body purse. See the puffy coat with the baby underneath, collar slightly open for its head. See what you see every day from November to March in your cold climate and wonder again why when you saw it in the subway, on the street, in the café, you didn’t see it as a disfigurement. Wonder at how quickly just yesterday you were always able to see this body-dressed-for-winter as a body separate from its dress, at how quickly you unburdened the skin-envelope from its Michelin-Man coat. And note in surprise what Kawakubo’s work has given you: a new mode of perception. Now go back outside and see not the clothing that mask a moving body, but a shape in the making that includes movement, the includes textile, that includes body, the three together an ecology that is an emergent shaping. Note with some awe that the “Dress Becomes Body” collection is not the high and useless fashion you may have assumed it was, but a lively encounter with the everyday.

The envelope has been ruptured. We are accustomed to the act of excision. We see the winter-clad body with its thick coat, the knap-sack, the heavy bag and we simply excise them from existence. We assume that the body is the shape underneath instead of the force taking form of an ecology, instead of a speciation? What else does it make sure we don’t see? We don’t feel?

If all of this has made a difference, what Kawakubo has achieved with her “Dress Becomes Body” collection is a world-constituting procedure from whose perspective an abstraction of the body as pre-constituted matter-form is no longer the norm. Of course, the mode of existence this creates cannot be seen as given, once and for all. It must create the conditions to be felt anew in each circumstance of its reactivation, mapping the being and the becoming of experience onto one another in their paradoxical double articulation.

Souriau has a word for the activation and selection of a mode of existence in its emergence: instauration. This untranslatable word, which means to constitute, to create, to found, to inaugurate, is defined in Souriau as the capacity of the mode of existence to settle itself into the world as procedure. “A philosophy of instauration will bring together at once the modes of the in-act and those of being, studying by which path they can be combined” (2009: 164). The event’s instauration consolidates being and becoming. It creates an opening toward what Whitehead calls the becoming of continuity. Being is temporary, positional, while becoming is directional but tentative. Instauration marks the force of the inflexion that propels this becoming of continuity. It is here, in the activation of difference, that new modes of existence are invented.

The “Dress Becomes Body” collection invents a mode of existence that is alliance with what Arakawa and Gins call “a site of sited awareness” (2002: 51). It makes felt the double articulation of the in-act and the acting at the very level of perception itself. To articulate the concept of sited awareness, Arakawa and Gins develop the concept of the landing site. The landing site seeks to articulate how an event extracts itself from the wider field of experience. For Arakawa and Gins, this is a question of “apportioning out”: “That which is being apportioned out is in the process of landing. To be apportioned out involves being cognizant of sites. To be cognizant of a site amounts to having greeted it in some manner or to having in some way landed on it” (2002: 5). It is important to understand that the landing is not first and foremost spatial nor is it oriented by a preexisting subject. The siting is a bringing into relation. This bringing into relation has the capacity to dimensionalize, and when this happens, architectural tendencies in the environment are brought to the fore. But the landing site can also have other functions, working more at the level of perception, for instance, or even making felt edgings of experience that are still in germ.

“Dress Becomes Body” sites awareness by creating the potential for a perceptual landing to occur differently. How perception lands has an effect on how the body can become a tentative architecting toward a holding in place. In the event of “Dress Becomes Body,” the emergent shaping procedure invites body becomes bodying, its perception reoriented. The landing site the collection creates is operational, it works to create a process rather than simply devolving into form. Siting awareness in the field of relation allows the work to continue doing its work, refuting the body as static shape, turning attention instead to a process of shaping that refuses to be contained by pre-constituted ideas of what a body can do. This perceptual landing on sited awareness allows us to see the active shaping of the collection not in terms of form, but in terms of a fielding of the surroundings that include but are not limited to the notion of “body.”

Arakawa and Gins write of “dancing attendance on the perceptual landing site,” of “landing sites dissolv[ing] into each other, or abut[ting], or overlap[ing], or nest[ing] within one another,” of “distributing sentience” (2002: 7-9). The landing site is not a location, not a point, but the tending, the abutting, the segmenting that selects out what is most persuasiveness in this eventful conjuncture.

In the siting of awareness activated by this and other Comme des Garçons collections, as with Arakawa and Gins’ built procedural architectures such as Bioscleave House in Long Island and the Reversible Destiny Lofts in Tokyo, what is at stake is this shaping that lands awareness differently. To land awareness is a way of working the work, of faire oeuvre: it brings into focus not the work as such but the very procedurality of the work’s workings. This is not to say that all work by Kawakubo and Arakawa and Gins does this to the same degree. Different procedures produce different ecologies, and the same is true in reverse. While for me, for instance, Arakawa and Gins’ Tokyo lofts are capable of activating a procedural architecture that remains vital and reorienting at each juncture, I find myself less certain about Bioscleave House. Similar materials were used in each of these two architectures, and yet what they do is divergent. This is likely because the fields of relation (cultural, social, environmental) are profoundly different. Whereas in Tokyo the architectural inheritance of the tatami room brings a certain continuity to the work of Arakawa and Gins, providing the participant with a strong sense of the potential of an architecture that resists normative inhabitation, in New York the house feels strangely deactivating, its hard, bumpy floor sometimes more of an affront to movement than an activator. This is not to say that the house has no potential, but simply to emphasize that each ecology of practices will emerge to different effect, opening up different fields of potential that will themselves always to some degree have to connect with the inheritances that come with the act of living.

What is most interesting about a procedural approach, therefore, is not the final form it might take. It is how that form remains procedural. In the case above, both architectures remain procedural, but they do so to different degrees. What matters is how these degrees are taken up in experience. What matters is what new processes they enable. What new modes of existence they solicit. What matters is how the work is attended to in the modality of sited awareness, how its instauration is felt and how it persists, how the event becomes procedurally capable of carrying its paradoxical doubleness toward the unknowability “Oh! That’s what it was!,” all the while attending to the singularity of the event in this iteration of its coming-to-be. For work that works does take a stand. It stands in the time in which it lands, and it makes demands on that time. It marks it. A procedural architecting, a procedural fashioning, always involves an encounter with a work that works persists even as it stands, that engages with the openings of potential even as it takes its place, here and now.

This is the strangeness of the procedural as world-constituting, that it must at once be taken up in the absoluteness of its self-determination in the here and now and that it must at the same time remain open to the differential of times not yet invented. How to create conditions whereby the here and now and the necessity of time’s unfolding can coexist? This might produce some anxiety. “What can I do so as not to be paced out of existence?” ask Arakawa and Gins.[11] The only way not to be paced out of existence is to remain steadfastly in the act. For to be paced out of existence suggests being on its edge and watching it go by. This only happens when there is an assumption that what happens is outside of the event. If we consider our being to always be in the midst, if we consider that the body is never one, never outside, never enveloped, but always a singular speciation of an unfolding ecology, existence will always to a certain degree include us. But it will not necessarily include in ways we are used to thinking inclusion. It will include us as the more-than, as a society of molecules, as tendings that include the human but are as inorganic as they are organic. It will include us not as the formative initiator of existence, but as the complicit participant. In the midst.

Modes of existence as they are crafted out of ecologies of practices will therefore not be primarily human. They will be ecological, active at the interstices of what life is becoming, life understood not in terms only of the vital, but understood as an active vector that passes through the organic and the inorganic. Life here is life-living, life invented in the cut that cleaves different modes of existence, some of them more intelligible to human life, many of them only intelligible in relation.

Choreographic Architecture

I have suggested that “Dress Becomes Body” architects mobility. This is in line with my earlier work on choreographic architectures. Architecting mobility does not mean creating a site for mobility. It refers instead to a way of understanding the siting of awareness through a focus on the force of form. A choreographic architecture, like its sister concept, “the dance of attention,” is about how an event creates the siting of its potential, and how it attends to this siting. When a choreographic architecture comes to the fore, what is perceived, what is lived is not the siting of the body but the fielding of its mobility.

It is here, in the differential folding of the choreographic potential of mobile architectings that fashion and architecture most readily meet. For when fashion becomes procedural what it does is assist us in reinventing how the bodying is already an architecting of mobility at an infinity of scales.

Kawakubo’s work embodies such choreographic tendencies, bringing to awareness the dance of attention active in the materiality of her textile creations. This is very apparent in her early work, often termed “deconstructive.” I draw attention to the work of the so-called deconstructive period for two reasons. First to challenge the usage of the way the term deconstruction is used in fashion, and to suggest that deconstruction, taken as an engaged rethinking of what textile can do, is still very much at work in the collections produced by Comme des Garçons.[12]

When deconstruction is theorized in relation to Kawakubo’s work (as well as to other Japanese designers such as Yamamoto, for instance), it tends to denote the making apparent of the seams of a garment in a way that creates a conversation about the garment’s form. It foregrounds, for instance, the unfinished seams and tends to make a statement about counter-culture (emphasizing, for instance, the way a given designer refuses to conform to haute couture’s norms). Derrida’s definition of the term takes it much further. For Derrida, deconstruction is never a method, but rather a way to return again to the act of reading or making in order to see how it stages its alliances to form, to history, to epistemology. This approach encourages an account of how the work moves, and what it can do in its incipient activity. In the case of fashion, this allows to turn not to the form itself but to the materiality of construction itself, to the ways in which the deconstructive gesture activates the force of form.

Comme des Garcons - Erin Manning - Funambulist04(left) Comme des Garçons AW 1982 / (right) Comme des Garçons AW 2008

In the context of the choreographic in its relation to dance, one of the most interesting aspects is how movement remains, how it is left over from the force of form. Choreographer William Forsythe encourages his dancers to “leave behind” the form of the movement in order to explore what exceeds its form, its representational stature. I have written about this in terms of the “what else,” asking what else can movement do in its fielding of relation? It seems to me that the “what else” is of central importance in Kawakubo’s so-called deconstructive work, a gesture that once again brings architecture and fashion together, but not in terms of scale or form, but in terms of what they leave behind in their relation to inheritance, to environmentality, to the ecologies of which they are part. The garments portrayed in the image below from the spring-summer 2011 collection make this observation felt. What is at stake here is not simply the making apparent of the seams of the garment’s production but a foregrounding of the immanent potentiality in the seams, at the edges, in the linings of the garment.

Comme des Garcons - Erin Manning - Funambulist05Comme des Garçons AW 2010

It is important to emphasize that these garments (like many others), placed on display for the runways of that 2011 season, are not for direct consumption. They take the season’s garments (the works that will be sold in boutiques around the world) and emphasize their procedurality, making felt not only the tentativeness of their propositions, but the more-than, the what else, of their constructedness.

Kawakubo states repeatedly that fashion is neither the starting nor the endpoint of her research. Fashion for her is not limited to the idea of a holding-in-place of a body as pre-formed. Nor is it about deconstructing the past in the linear sense often attributed to both her work and that of other Japanese designers such as Yohji Yamamoto, nor simply, as the deconstructive vocabulary within fashion would have it, of revealing tradition and pulling it apart at the seams. It is, rather, about constructing toward a tentative holding in place, more re-constructing than de-constructing, thereby cleaving the body-concept toward an architecting that sculpts mobility more than form. That this work reveals its seams is of course necessary at times, and amongst my favourite pieces of Comme des Garçons are these early works, but not simply because they shed and fade and show their fragility, but because they open the act of dressing to the fragile articulations of its very composition, allowing the garment to function as a lively interstice that is event-time. The garments feel alive.

Kawakubo does not work from a desk. She does not use fabric swatches. She does not sketch. She seeks no ultimate experience, no precise moment of revelation. As she says, “there is no eureka moment, there is no end to the search for something new.” Instead, she seeks to create conditions for the activating of connections heretofore unavailable to her, she constructs to make felt a relation that has not yet come to the fore. But she does not stop there. “Often in each collection, there are three or so seeds of things that come together accidentally to form what appears to everyone else as a final product, but for me it is never ending.” Kawakubo continues, she persists in a serial manner, working in the interstices of what is on the way, in the interval between the takings-form. “There is never a moment when I think, ‘this is working, this is clear.’ If for one second I think something is finished, the next thing would be impossible to do.”[13]

For a procedural fashioning there can be no end to the process. This is a serial adventure with pinnacles of form along the way. The middle, the milieu of the act of activating the relation, is what is at stake. The body in-forming, an architecting of mobility that becomes a shape, is part of this middling, active as it is in its capacity for metamorphosis, but it is neither beginning nor end. Kawakubo designs in this interstitial seriality, always toward that which “can and cannot be found,” for “boundaries for an architectural body can only be suggested, never determined” (Arakawa and Gins 2002: 68).

In the form-taking of the middling, everything is at stake: what comes to form will make a difference. A collection must emerge, for it is from here, from the materiality of a form-taking, that the next procedure, the next a dress, coat, pair of pants will invent itself.

But are these really still dresses, pants, coats? Ideally we would need a processual concept for these incipient forms. A dressing? A coating? A trousering? The same would need to be said of the procedural architectures – not a house but a housing, a lofting, a rooming, a thresholding. For procedural processes to make a difference, they must be created such that they can perform, reshape, constrain in ways unforeseeable. This is a difficult call, and often it fails and the dressing is limited to dress, the thresholding is limited to entryway. In such cases the modes of existence the procedural fashioning sought to create lost the sense of their potential trajectory, becoming less a pathway than a finite project, as Souriau might say, losing the force of their incipient directionality.

The complicity here between a procedural fashioning and a procedural architecting is as speculative as it is pragmatic. In either case it cannot be about the product. It has to be about how the procedure does its work, and keeps working. This is hit and miss. It requires a long and rigorous process of experimentation, and a willingness to begin anew without believing to know the starting point. Recall Kawakubo’s constraint: begin with the belief that I don’t know what clothing can be.

In a procedural approach nothing can be taken for granted. It is always a question of the emerging ecology, of the architecting toward mobility of an emergent bodying. “Landing site configurations articulate at least this many positions; nearnearground, nearmiddleground, nearfarground, middlenearground, middlemiddleground, middlefarground, farnearground, farmiddleground, farfarground; nearmiddlefarground, nearfarmiddleground, middlenearmiddleground, middlenearfarground, farnearmiddleground” (Arakawa and Gins 2002: 71). But take care, Arakawa and Gins remind us, not to think of these shifting grounds as positions, for they are also “areas of an architectural body, which takes its ubiquitous cue and command from the form and features of an architectural surround, subtending all positions within the surround’s confines” (2002: 71).

The environmental surround in a fashioning procedure is infinitely productive, for the starting point is topological: the body is that which folds.[14] Without articulating it as such, I believe Kawakubo’s procedural fashioning takes this notion of the body as its starting point. The fold is where it always begins – the fold of the tissue paper she gives her pattern cutter as an inspiration, the fold of the texture that constrains the scissors when she cuts, the fold that resists, that reshapes, that escapes finite form. Hers is a lifetime of research into the fold, the fold produced by the body’s bending, its kneeling, its touching, the fold of the texturing of a given piece of fabric, of the pleating so often part of her designs, the fold of the inside-out that brings the back to the fore in a garment, turning the seam on itself, particularly obvious in Junya Watanabe’s designs of revolving coats and dresses where the front becomes the back, the fold that resists becoming a seam, or even the fold that gives her the inspiration to create her recent Autumn-Winter 2012 two-dimensional collection, a collection that strangely accentuates the body’s n-dimensionality.

Comme des Garcons - Erin Manning - Funambulist06Comme des Garçons AW 2012

A procedural architecture is one that takes the fold as the point of inflexion, that makes apparent how the fold is the force of form the Euclidean architecture of our most normative surrounds must always build against: the fold of the hill within the landscape, of the air as it rushes against cement, creating a vortex that bends and twists, the fold of the body that moves with the building’s capacity to make space for it. To commit to a procedural approach is to commit to this fold, and of course to commit to how it cleaves, and then to persuasively include it, to architect at its limit, inventing new ways of colluding with it, all the while attending to the dance of attention active within the force of the event’s own procedural unfolding. For what the fold does first and foremost is remind us that the body is never one, is never outside the ecology of its environmental architecting, its nearfarmiddleground never a question of bare ontology. The body is that which folds into the architectural surround, that which folds into the architecting of mobility that sites awareness, that which folds into its own activity, that which remains infinitely serial, that which cannot but procedurally unfold. What a procedural fashioning can do is bring this tendency to its limit. Kawakubo’s procedural fashioning design here, at this point of inflexion, architecting toward the creation of fragile modes of existence which, in their turn, can create conditions for new and different procedural fashionings. Here, in the edging into itself of world-constituting procedures, Kawakubo designs not for the body but for a belief in the world.

NOTES:

1. http://www.styleite.com/news/rei-kawakubo-nyt/ Viewed February 24 2014

2. This concept is developed at more length in “Just Like That: William Forsythe, Between Movement and Language” in Erin Manning and Brian Massumi Thought in the Act (Minneapolis: Minnesota UP, 2014).

3. unpublished paper.

4. It is important to emphasize that not all collections are primarily designed by Rei Kawakubo, though she does supervise the process. Junya Watanabe has been an important designer for Comme des Garçons, first as a patternmaker starting in 1984, and then as a designer in 1987. He started designing under his own name in 1992. Other designers include Tao Kurihara and Kei Ninomiya.

8. For more on Whitehead’s concept of creativity, see Adventures of Ideas. (Free Press, 1938 pp. 179-180).

10. http://www.styleite.com/news/rei-kawakubo-nyt/

11. Unpublished manuscript.

14. There also exist indigenous traditions in garment design that challenge the idea of the predefined shape of a body, inviting the body to define itself through an encounter with the fabric. These include the Indian sari, the Malay or Indonesian sarong, and the African kanga or kitenge, each of which is emergent as garment in the folding.

LIST OF WORKS CITED: 

Gins, Madeline and Arakawa, Arriving soon–Biotopological Diagramming, A New Procedure/Method for Staying Alive Indefinitely from Alive Forever, Not If, But When. Unpublished Manuscript.

Gins, Madeline and Arakawa, Architectural Body. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2002

Joffe, Adrian. “The Idea of Comme des Garçons” http://hypebeast.com/2011/1/adrian-joffe-the-idea-of-comme-des-garcons Jan 10 2011.

Kawakubo, Rei. “Rei Kawakubo’s Creative Manifesto.” http://www.businessoffashion.com/2013/10/rei-kawakubo-comme-des-garcons.html 30 October 2013.

“Rei Kawakubo in Her Own Words.” http://www.anothermag.com/current/view/3075/AnOther_Magazine_18__Rei_Kawakubo_in_Her_Own_Words 3 October 2013.

Kawakubo, Rei and George-Parkin, Hilary. “Rei Kawakubo Doesn’t Sketch, Use a Desk, or Like Being ‘Understood’” http://www.styleite.com/news/rei-kawakubo-nyt/ 3 June 2002

Kawakubo, Rei and Socha, Miles. “Rei Kawakubo: Exclusive Q&A.” http://www.wwd.com/fashion-news/fashion-features/rei-kawakubo-qa-6486260 November 19, 2012.

Manning, Erin. Always More Than One: Individuations Dance. Durham: Duke UP, 2013.

Manning, Erin and Massumi, Brian. Thought in the Act: Passages in the Ecology of Experience. Minneapolis: Minnesota UP, 2014.

Rissanen, Timo. “Types and Fashion Design and Patternmaking Practice” in Design Inquiries. Stockholm, 2007. www.nordes.org

Souriau, Etienne. Les Différents modes dexistence suivi de Loeuvre à faire. Ed. Isabelle Stengers and Bruno Latour. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2009.

Whitehead, Alfred North. Adventures of Ideas. New York: Free Press, 1938.

# THE FUNAMBULIST PAPERS 53 /// Building Body – Two Treatments on Landing Site Theory by Alan Prohm

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Image: Alan Prohm

The 53rd Funambulist Paper associates the editorial line of the forthcoming second volume centered around the body with an additional contribution to the series of texts about the work of Arakawa and Madeline Gins. The following essay, written by Alan Prohm, friend of the Reversible Destiny Foundation (now lead by Joke Post and Momoyo Homma) and instigator of the The BodyBuilding Project (3-Week residency at the Watermill Center, following 1-year course in procedural architecture and embodiment taught at the University of Art and Design Helsinki, now Aalto University). In this literary/analytic text, Alan examines Arakawa and Gins’ concepts of “landing sites” and the “architectural body”.

 

# THE FUNAMBULIST PAPERS 53 /// Building Body – Two Treatments on Landing Site Theory by Alan Prohm

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Dedication: This text has its dedication built right in.

Landing Site Theory (a) [1] -dream of the architectural body

“The main stake of street actions is the reactivation of the body of the general intellect.” Franco Berardi.

/

It was around 6:20 am – I was asleep in a ply-board room the exact dimensions of one twin bed, with just an extra foot along one side so you could sit down with your feet on the floor and still get the door closed – sweaty in the thin sheets – cheapest hotel I could find in Chinatown – efficient mass baseline habitation – with a tv in every room – Madeline was ill and it was a place for a few days landing in town and waiting – when I could pay a visit, when I could shift over to the sixth-floor loft at Houston St. – & the phone rang.

/

& only many years later did it occur to him to question who that might have been there that day back then burning on the ghat in Varanasi where he sat breathing in inevitably the smoke by chance blown up from off the burning body at him, of an Indian man from the merchant class being cremated below him on the sand at the water’s edge on a bed of logs on the shore of the Ganges at dawn by two untouchable laborers paid a small amount in rupees to do so all day

then one day for no reason years later this strange name showing up on the streets and in my notebooks everywhere, who?, I, no, where’d that come from?

 I mean, no association or anything, I’m just saying…

 She might just come again.

/

Madeline’s dream of dying

woke up screaming nurse said, 5 times

she was shown the way

sapient imaging-along had saved her

because she needed to be around to save it

spoke to a neuron

felt fine wire sense nets out around her

began seeing colors in aura

/

It was Madeline. She wanted me to come uptown to where she was staying for when her healer would be there, at about 7, so in barely half an hour. He was an Indian healer and he was so much help in finding ways to fight within her, she wanted others to get some of the benefit. I had been waiting a few days for her to feel strong enough for a visit, and was certainly interested in what kind of help she was surrounding herself with, in the effort now way underway of keeping her as a body alive. But to my body it felt very early, and it just didn’t have it in it to jump at the opportunity. I apologized and said I couldn’t make it on such short notice, but thanks, and agreed on an uncertain ‘okay then maybe later today’, and went back to bed. Soon enough in the coming days I did get good chances to visit, and later even to meet the healer and hear his story. But after that early morning interruption, frankly a bit annoyed, I woke back up an hour or so later, sweatier as the day had warmed, and had had this dream. And thought it was extraordinary.

I was standing in a high brick cubic loft-like space – red brick and airy, in two walls adjoining fine steel-frame windows two storeys high. I was near the left front wall and looking up into the broad space no floors, or just one, above which all the air of three storeys piled, and high up in the empty volume of the room a foetus was floating, in a diffuse light, as in a fluid medium, with a membrane thinly veiling its insides, and an even thinner membrane veiling the radiant, clear, most-loosely/barely-textured, expanding/hugging volume of its outsides, this womb-sack, filling the bricked cubic-ness of the room like a balloon blown up as big as it gets, just these wedge-volumed gaps at the adjoinings of floor and walls and ceiling. In one such gapping along the lower left edge, I was standing against a wall, watching this foetus in the assumption it was my child, but not excluding the possibility it was everyone’s. The mother was away at the moment. I was going outside to get something at the car. While I was up the cement stairs and out on the sidewalk I was thinking how extraordinary it was, and I should probably take some pictures for the mother so she can see when she gets back. I came back inside and the foetus was still there, floating well up toward the top, serene, majestic, but looking down, into this three-cubic-storey red brick loftiness with windows, ambiented in its radiant mother-of-amberish pearl fluidity, to which it float/dangling could be seen to be most loosely, barely tethered by an as-if fine tense disappearing thread, and everything.

/

What will they do with Madeline’s body, he wonders. What will you do as yours, her voice in his mind replies. [2]

/

Build a body. Disentangle. Thrive/Love. Together.

/

How to make a body? Build it. How to fuel a forever fire, feed it. Procedurality failed and then it made forever do with it. It the all, cleaving. Bioscleave. –ing.

Sufficiency is with us, and also around. We take it in and fill with, and hold whereall.

Body, a having membrane and holding organs, is architectural, is in Bioscleaving the cleaving that most supports us being a we, or me being the I I says I am.

Not to come together like that was something other, but being dispersed t/here suddenly to disperse with this togethetry, this thickening-in along a common membrane-cum-metabolism for being an us, or me. What is the boundary that references this being, this wafted bouncing around at the onto-epistemological edges of things where I/we decide/s we/I ’re/am or going to be? A pole tent warp wrap to point and relent to the referencing, centering a circumference evasive and transformative to save our hide(s), or mine? Which line says I most finely, or holds as we so wide? How does a skin decide and ally its members, retie/-ain them in mutual muscle networks racked on bone and run by nerve hordes connecting in to tall grey hives, in the brain, or tribes. Bags to contain a sustaining. Who we? No, I. The center that f/holds the I not dying to cast it wide, keep trying.

For Madeline and Arakawa the answer to this questioning lies in the relentless biotopological diagramming that building body, more/more architectural/more not-dying body, requires.

Getting there is the evidence of your trying come true. Try. Madeline did. Change will have you as its most convincing symptom, so just go ahead jump the gun and get it started. The wave will catch up and crest with you once you have shared your awareness with the others. Grow body. Don’t die.

 I is listening, I is listening, I am quiet.

The heart is the core of a capillary network, feeding meat with the life for wanting more life. Who could ever have built a better fire? Or war. A cold shower in the holey bowl of mass full emptiness with no face. A great warm cave of caving in at the core. The heaviness we carry and that makes us tall, and not live more. Great and small alike susceptible to all this lapsing in the ability of this to go on indefinitely, as an us or an I. What a thrust, then what a fuss.[3] Please more.

/

“If you study hard and always strive to know the full range of the body’s capabilities, you will in all probability not have to die.”  (Making Dying Illegal, cover)

/

But there is a problem. Among others. The body is small. I mean small-minded. Underestimated and sold too short, reachless, separate, apart. When it/we could be overall. The body/self/sense cast wide can live more. A world built for bodymind to start casting broader, knowing and doing with greater traction on more scales of action per volume area, would be a world in which the organism(s) personing, happening more on purpose, could learn to be alive longer. As opposed to the world as we build it now, to narrow and stream-line our implicity in the happening as programmed, or just happened that way and let it be. There is living forever, and there is at least getting a little bit more out of life. That’s a start. So why don’t we try? Immortality is at all times.

image 3Arakawa and Gins, illustrations of landing site formation, 1997, from the essay, “Architectural Body”, in Reversible Destiny: We have decided not to die, pages 169-187. (C) Madeline Gins/ Courtesy of Reversible Destiny Foundation.

Why don’t we try? Well, it’s rough outside. And they. Who? Decide how to live or if an I dies. Just don’t stick your head out. Say the I’s. We gets us a little wider. But how wide? The land you never claim can never be taken from you. The skin is a minimum size we body at because we have a hard time retreating completer. But the senses we can pull way back inside. In fact they’ll be happy to extend the wiring right in to you, so you don’t really need your own at all, skin or ears or eyes. Widescreen TVs are already just a step away from a wireless chip in the back of my mind. Then we’ll still have bodies but you’ll barely need an outside.

“When the social body is wired by techno-linguistic automatisms, it acts as a swarm: a collective organism whose behavior is automatically directed by connective interfaces.” (Berardi 14)

The sensorium can transmit like a tight wire relay, or take in and build inflationary baby-bakery-like knowing/making for its own sake, and for all sapient-sentient kind. The difference between tight and wide in this sens(orium) is to be found in the imaging, and the landing it ultimately comes from. Hence world-constituting, as Madeline calls it, a procedure of sapient imaging along, cued by/to acts of landing. World: what happens, or you have happen as.

The variable that in the end prevents happening, defined as the swarm on-rush of events through presence, from collapsing totally into automaticity, destiny, is landing, the surface and voluming of it, and the voluming full of tentative and potential that flowers in its wake, imaging along. The degree and mode of awareness (reflexivity, imaging) on the landing as it happens, or you/we have it happen. And world becomes.

Landing site theory, thinking the landing and imaging, is at the core of a more general “art-science” Madeline and Arakawa practiced and called Biotopology, characterized as not a field of knowledge but a “meadow of knowing”[4], about/in/as sited awareness, life in sapient-sentience plus the diagramming. Biotopology establishes itself as a way of thinking for doing that can address the eventning that is/decides life, and inform the urgent and speculative practice of a procedural architecture, designed to extend it.

image 4

Arakawa and Madeline Gins, “Perceptual Landing Sites (II)” detail, 1981-84, in Constructing the Perceiver, page 269. (C) Madeline Gins/Courtesy of Reversible Destiny Foundation.

Landing site theory at the core of these efforts amounts, then, both to an epistemology, a theory of first-person knowledge building, and to a consciousness practice, a discipline for firming and loosening our hold on landing, happening. Both as epistemology and as consciousness practice, landing site theory is essential for building body. And most probably for not dying. The study of the body, the organism that persons, landing, is the study of how the body can land further, inner, wider, longer, also. To include the walls and floor, and to assume no ceiling.

Where its promise seems greatest, landing site theory offers keys to the secret of holding the tentativeness of events and everything open. Not to stop time, but at least to not die, now, or at any time. As oneself always the core of one’s events, how not to be had by the collapse that happening just passes off as just happening? Not sacrificing active landing to the automatic. Not excluding a single possibility. Holding as many horizons open as far around as necessary, or expedient. Fine insight on/into the acts of fixing and settling that the deciding of events in the end comes down to. Up at the tip of the formation of facts, landing fielding landing into events, we can study the collapse of wide to tight in slowed time with our own eyes and find the points/joints where fate may be made to take the different turn, and as-if Destiny reverse. Help it happen that way. It’s all yours.

Reversible Destiny as a project(ile) looks to the extension of consciousness (or sapient-sentience) outward and in every direction, into a more, into a further that is inherent/implicit/potential in the embodied happening of landing and imaging and building. The body has it within it. Everywhere that isn’t disinhabited and lost to the automatic, is living. Bios is the cleaving. The topology is a system or knack for keeping track. Procedural architecture is the vision of building for the body in bios cleaving, with a topology for staying and staying alive.

Through(out) the body, architectural, cast wide, informed by the theorying of its own landing sites, sapient-sentience’s complicity in the infinite visceral intricacy of all the things happening, at once, in line, is strengthened, dispersed and intensified. It is with us, and also within. Everything is more, there is less less. Here all reductions and automaticities run for the hills and hide. Maybe including dying.

Image 5aimage 5bImage 5c

Arakawa and Gins, visualisation of landing sites, 1997, from “Landing Sites in Relation to Phantom Limb Formation”, in Reversible Destiny: We have decided not to die, pages.156-63. (C) Madeline Gins/ Courtesy of Reversible Destiny Foundation.

Body claims its space as sapient sentience shaping personing out of places, and takes, a container containing, life lived out into every eventning as limbs or patches of skin, all of it her, or him, happening. Body is what we have of it, and what we take as us. Like each other. Grow.

So, body is among other things its channels of intake – the more hardwired the more I – what intervenes in the channeling costs and charges – fields collapse from fences and fences grow tight to wire – what does the wiring wins – win the wiring, ladies & gentlemen, that is the only way – and the only way is from within – Out – you are the wiring, ladies & gentlemen, win from within – cast wide. Field. And the fences go flying.

“The spreading of the connective modality in social life (the network) creates the conditions of an anthropological shift that we cannot yet fully understand. This shift involves a mutation of the conscious organism: in order to make the conscious organism compatible with the connective machine, its cognitive system has to be reformatted. Conscious and sensitive organisms are thus being subjected to a process of mutation that involves the faculties of attention, processing, decision, and expression.” (Berardi 122)

Landing site theory. Allow it to introduce you to the receptive texture (landing channeled but untrammeled) “this texture that is a distance”, “this as-if-woven breathing web of landing sites”, through which we/you enter ourselves as the events that seem to contain us, when in reality it is we that field them into place. Beware: the infrastructure that interfaces us is us, Ladies & Gentlemen, and currently they, who?, those who own, own a disturbingly large part of this, us. There is a problem here. Our bios. Their power. Unless ours.

/

What would it take to grow a body that could stop dying? Madeline tried.

/

image 6image 6c

Arakawa and Madeline Gins,  “Tactical-Perceptual and Kinaesthetic-Perceptual Landing Sites” from the chapter Architectural Body 1997, in We Have Decided Not to Die, page 185; study into the site of a person, from essay “Constructing the Site/Terrain Studies” 1994, in Architecture: Sites of Reversible Destiny, page 69; and “Ubiwuitous Site X Chart 4, at Takamatsu, Kagawa-ken”, 1987, in Constructing the Perceiver, page 219. (C) Madeline Gins/ Courtesy of Reversible Destiny Foundation.

Landing Site Theory (b) - a supramodal science of active happening

Landing site theory, core concern of the art/science biotopology, takes the stage of phenomenology and just stands up and starts talking, all in its own accord, at first as a team of two[5], using new language with little stop to reference or correlate, new words and ways with words emerging convergent with meeting all the new challenges of this happening actively, that actively. How we happen. How to happen. What and how to happen as. This, ladies & gentlemen, is the challenges. And facing such challenges the conscious body wins.

image 7aimage 7bArakawa, detail from “Basic Enclosure” and “A Routine Enclosure”, visualisations of landing sites, 1983-85, from the essay “Perceptual Landing Sites”, in Constructing the Perceiver, page 268. (C) Madeline Gins/ Courtesy of Reversible Destiny Foundation.

With Arakawa and Gins, landing site theory suddenly comes along in seed form offering to articulate the whole soft interfacing between person as organism and as environment. It provides, rule-of-thumb-like, a science of how the happening that’s happening appears to happen and how it can be brought to happen actively. It is supramodal in that its base articulations are primordial to the separation of senses, in a dimension of world-construction within consciousness that all senses draw from and feed into. Landing locates the initial thinking/eventning, the first of its first philosophy, infra- to the physio-chemico-electric differentiation of sense modalities, in the impact/impulse of anything happening at all in a sensorium, to an awareness. Even the notion of imaging, it must be noted, is supraordinate to the individual modes of imaging as differentiated within the sensory net – and here the word image’s general immediate association with visual image, in fact just one of its many sub-varieties, must be overcome – imaging, too, as a term and a force, is beyond the distinction between senses and points us beyond that, or better infra, near-side, en-deça of that, to simply the aftering of an impact/impulse of anything happening. What gets built up from there is another story.

Perceptual landing site: visual, tactile, kinaesthetic, auditory, gustatory, olfactory.

Imaging landing site: visual, tactile, kinaesthetic, auditory, gustatory, olfactory.

Dimensionalizing landing site: perceptual – imaging, imaging-imaging

(cf. Architectural Body, Chapter 2)

The fact of an impact/impulse/tacting/landing/act of happening after-ing at all is of course of great importance in the history of consciousness. It is in fact its birth crisis, some would say.[6]The capture and seconding of an intake, this, more than just the channeling of physio-chemical-electric impulses along the specialized nerve and organ pathways, is the functionality that really makes mind, including body, a quantum leap within the un-foldment of bioscleave through organisming. Imaging is the retain function that allows for forwarding of any kind and all. So, life, imaging along.

image 8

Arakawa, detail from  “Critical Holder Chart 2”, 1985-91, in Constructing the Perceiver, page 221. (C) Madeline Gins/ Courtesy of Reversible Destiny Foundation.

As a phenomenology or the supercession of phenomenology, landing site theory is rigorous about anchoring its construction in the now of current landing, assuring maintenance of the phenomenological reduction, epoche, a permanent disclaimer at the basis of any approximative-rigorous thinking practice, holding the world as posited real off in brackets from the alone knowable, the world-in-constitution-as/within-sapient-imaging-along. In phenomenological terms the point is keeping the needle on noeisis. In landing site theory terms, it is sapient imaging along that never gives up on landing.

The strange flavor of this theory, as some may sense it, is I believe a by-product of it targeting traction on a complexity of within, as Madeline and Arakawa call it, rather than mastery of one from without.

Phenomenology: ego – noeisis – noema

Biotopology: organism that persons – sapient imaging along – bioscleave/-ing

What landing site theory lets go of to go forward is the disinterested and hands-off stance in this mode of thought, and what must be acknowledged as a lethargy common to philosophy quite generally. Phenomenology as a style of theory seems to have no particular need of going further toward the realization, becoming lived world, of the better knowing it promotes. Biotopology, as the art-philosophical-scientific project outer-lying landing site theory and underlying Reversible Destiny, arises from and carries within it the need to go further, to actively happening. More. As architectural bodies. Wider. As organisms-that-person-not-dying.

image 9

Arakawa and Gins, “Study for Reversible Destiny House 1”, 1994, in Architecture: Sites of Reversible Destiny, page 101. (C) Madeline Gins/ Courtesy of Reversible Destiny Foundation.

Landing site theory, which you must build, promises to put this, this short-hand, rule-of-thumb-intuitive, fresh-(re-)start phenomenology in your hand, supramodally speaking of course; so, to undo this reductive metaphor and start over we could say: landing site theory puts this less reductive, more more-adducing and acuter mode of knowing in your hand, chest, foot, shoulder, forearm, small of the back, thigh, cheek, liver, tongue, abdomen, base of the skull, left hip, metatarsal tissue, cartilege of the right inner ear, eyeball muscles, soft grey matter, heart, hair, etc., all there, free of charge, ready for you to use. For what? Worlding. That’s your job. Where else is it going to come from?

“Sapient/purposive imaging takes impressions everywhere of the various parts of the whole it encounters and, in so doing, delivers up world.” (Alive Forever, MS)

Landing site theory equips us as worlders, thinkers with a simple set of terms for articulating the worlding we do that way anyway, and for becoming conscious agents within it.

“…an organism that persons organizes, transforms and redirects bioscleave, countless bioscleavings, step-by-step, by degrees, to constitute world, her world of each moment as imaged.” (Alive Forever, MS)

To catch landing and land on purpose, knowingly, aim. Sapience in the sensing. Sentience as the active intelligence of perceiving. Perceiving to world. A theory of perception will allow you to explain how impressions are taken in. A theory of landing sites empowers the knower/thinker/body to create the world more consciously by embodying it into place. Procedurally. Because the difference between a world happening as it happens and a world happening as you have it happen, better, forever, is procedurality.

image 10Arakawa and Gins, Reversible Destiny Healing Fun House, Palm Springs, California, section, computer rending 2010. (C) Madeline Gins/ Courtesy of Reversible Destiny Foundation.

And the difference between a world built to happen, and one built to support you from every angle and at every step in having it happen, happening it more, is procedural architecture.

“Architecture will come into its own when it becomes thoroughly associated and aligned with the body, that active other tentative constructing towards a holding in place, the ever-on-the-move body.” (Architectural Body  49)

“…an architectural surround that is procedural, a tactically posed surround, fills an organism that persons with questions by enabling it to move within and between its own modes of sensing.” (Architectural Body 52)

“The body must either escape or “reenter” habitual patterns of action – habitual actions that have customized life into only a few standard patterns. Upon the body’s mastering new patterns of action, bioscleave emerges reconfigured.” (Architectural Body 62)

image 11

Alan Prohm, specultive drawings for a landing site visualiser, 2010, from the essay “Constructing Poeisis: Storyboards for an Immersive Diagramming”, Inflexions 6, the Arakawa and Gins Issue. http://www.senselab.ca/inflexions/n6_prohm.html

Procedurality as an enterprise and a tool involves architecture taking this challenge to build for bodies’ ability/agility to catch landing and imaging landing and handle the happening they advance actively. It is using this handy/leggy/torsoey/etc. jargon to think then build the happening of the world in event/acts of landing and imaging in all their variegated modality. And to make more life. The premise/promise of this art-science – behind procedural architecture biotopology, and behind biotopology landing site theory – is that procedurality in the activity of happening, architecturally supported, activates the body to greater life and longer. In landing and imaging actively, in constituting world on purpose. Building world by being a body architecturally. Fill it out, and be.  More.

Thank you. Let’s build.

image 12

 

Works Cited:

Arakawa, Constructing the Perceiver: Arakawa – Experimental Works, Tokyo: The National Museum of Modern Art, 1991.

Arakawa and Gins, “Study for Reversible Destiny House 1”, in Architecture: Sites of Reversible Destiny, London: Academy Editions,1994.

Arakawa and Gins. Reversible Destiny: We have decided not to die, New York: Guggenheim Museum Press, 1997.

Madeline Gins and Arakawa, The Architectural Body, Tuscaloosa : University of Alabama Press, 2002.

Madeline Gins and Arakawa, Making Dying Illegal, New York: Roof Books, 2006.

Madeline Gins, unpublished manuscript, Alive Forever; Not If But When, 2013.

Zoltan Torey, The Crucible of Consciousness: an Integrated Theory of Mind and Brain, Cambridge: MIT Press, 2009.

Franco “Bifo” Berardi, The Uprising: on Poetry and Finance. Cambridge: MIT Press, Semiotext(e) / Intervention Series (Book 14), 2012.

Alan Prohm, “Constructing Poeisis: Storyboards for an Immersive Diagramming”, in Inflexions Issue 6 The Arakawa and Gins Issue, 2013, http://www.senselab.ca/inflexions/n6_prohm.html

Notes:

1. The concept landing sites derives from the work of Arakawa and Gins, cf. Architectural Body, 2002, Chapter 2, “Landing Sites”.

2. Madeline Gins died on January 8 2014, among countless other things still to come.

3. That’s life.

4. Making Dying Illegal, 56.

5.Arakawa and Gins

6. cf. Zoltan Torey, The Crucible of Consciousness.

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