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In the previous chapters, I have unfolded, how we may understand the phenomenon of space, and investigated how space has been used as an active design medium throughout the 20th century. However, one aspect was always luring at the edge of my focus – that all these spaces, in one way or another, were constructed by media, either by the imagined building blocks of concepts, categories and language, or by the techniques, technologies and sciences of the real.
In this chapter, I will argue that the media we use to construct embedded spaces has a great influence on the embedded space itself, whether the constellation of operands is symbolic or formal. I will focus on different ways to use spatial media to construct embedded spaces, which overlap the real and the imagined. In doing so, I hope to suggest how the dependency between design process, design space and content may be constructed and manipulated through spatial media.

The architect Anton Markus Pasing has stated that the aspect of media and technology is ignored in a large part of architecture: “Nobody can deny that technology is a good thing. How we use it is another matter. Everybody talks of cyberspace and virtual reality, Internet and rendering, but there are remarkable aspects which are rarely attended to in architecture.”(1) A rather bold statement indeed – a conditional surrender to technology we could say – with a call to discuss the architectural techniques that are often overlooked, and to conduct a critique of the media that is essential to doing architecture.
I believe that an attitude like Pasing’s is necessary, if we want to use media to construct design spaces. I believe we must realize that these spaces are the outcome of the use of different media before, during and after the act of designing, and I believe that especially the media and techniques of architecture – how we do architecture in practice – deserve a closer look. For in architecture, even the simplest of pencils, rulers or computer applications represent a certain technique or scholastic procedure, derived from technologies that we use to our own benefit, but which in return do set up certain frames for that use. While we may think of techniques, technologies and media as neutral, objective and under our full control, it is far from the truth. It is therefore important to be able to distinguish between – or at least to acknowledge that there is a difference between – what rules and data we as architects embed in the design space, and the constraints and potentials that are embedded by the techniques and the media we use. In other words, we should differ between what is the effect of our own intentions, and what is the effect of the medium used to manifest these intentions. With a reference to Franz Xaver Baier, we could say that we in general tend to categorize technology and media as neutral unlived aspects of space, like an a-priori understanding of space or natural laws, while it should be categorized as a very active lived aspect, like economy, social interaction, culture and politics.(2)



That these spaces are constructed, however, is nothing new. The camera obscura, Filippo Brunelleschi’s linear perspective, Jeremy Bentham’s panopticon, Robert Barker’s panorama and the moving image of the cinema were all real or imagined spaces, constructed by specific media and techniques. We could even argue that how such spaces were constructed defined their character and potential, and therefore what they could contain. The linear perspective was true and only true, if it was constructed in a specific way, just as Bentham and Barker easily could claim the rights to their inventions due to their unique technical procedure and construction.(3) A similar connection between the technique and the potential of media is present today in the case of photography, topographic plans, scale models, projection screens, shutter glasses and the synthetic space of the computer. All these are media that we use in doing architecture.
The architectural historian Anthony Vidler points out this relation between space, media, technique and character all the way from Enlightenment to modernism, when he writes: “... film, as well as all the other arts, were bound, à la Lessing, to draw precise theoretical boundaries around the centers of their conceptually different practices – practices understood as distinct precisely because of their distinct media.”(4) While the architect, Bernard Tschumi has made a similar observation, stating that:

… Media has at least two meanings, a little bit like the word opera – the opera is both the building and the performance, right? Media is also both the means of communication, let’s say the technology, and the mode of communication – in other words, the ideology. We use the word media without making a distinction between the two. There is a risk, then, of misunderstanding …(5)

Therefore, we may argue that when we use a given medium to construct a specific embedded space, that medium does come with a warrant. The media is influenced, defined and thoroughly saturated by specific techniques, which in return for our use influence the way we experience and use that constructed design space. We could suggest that there is a strong dependency between the technical constructions of an embedded space – real or imagined – and the potentials that such a space may offer.

Observer and Media in a Panoramic Space

The writer and essayist Bernard Comment has given a meticulous account of the panorama and its media, technique and character in The Panorama, translated from French in 1999. He writes about the panorama of the early 19th century:

Such was the paradoxical status of the panorama: an enclosed area open to a representation free of all worldly restrictions … Not only did it express the perceptual and representational fantasies that befitted such troubled times; it was also a way of regaining control of sprawling collective space.(6)

We could argue that Comment describes the panorama as a synthetic spatial construction; synthetic because it was meant both to substitute reality – “free of all worldly restrictions” – and to bring together diverse aspects in one single public spectacle. Comment goes on and identifies three major functions of the panorama: 1) it was an idealized utopia of the city, in which it was located, freed from the smoke and dirt that engulfed the early-industrialized metropolis, 2) it was a historical reenactment of real events, often military battles, just months after they had occurred, mixed with symbols that would promote the nation state, and 3) it was scenes and landscapes from remote locations, often with a colonial or imperialistic agenda. Comment’s argument is therefore that the panorama had a specific function, which was to persuade the wider public in the best way possible by a staging of space in the technical media of the panorama. To achieve such a powerful effect on the public’s eye and mind, a whole range of technicians were hired to perform specific operations on the panorama: observation, staging, sketching, drawing, painting, lighting, montage, hanging, transportation and so forth. Such a technician even had a specific name; he was called a panoramist.(7) So, behind the hanging screen of the panorama, there was a complex set of techniques, which all were crucial to its pervasive effect. We could therefore argue that the panorama was synthetic in its shared and utopic space, rhetorical in its function and technical in its construction. The panorama was based on a range of techniques that were carried out by highly trained specialists, techniques, which together defined its character, potential and validity. Comment states: “From the outset, therefore, the panorama wanted to and did rely on sources that confirmed its authenticity. Wishing to replace reality, it had to be able to guarantee that it conformed to its model.”(8)
This is an argument that finds further support by the art historian Jonathan Crary’s argument that our understanding and use of space is a constructed cultural phenomenon(9) – primarily founded on technical and scientific merits, which makes it impossible to separate observer and technique. Crary argues in The Techniques of the Observer:

… The emergence of photography and cinema in the nineteenth century is the fulfillment of a long unfolding of technological and/or ideological developments in the West whereby the camera obscura evolves into the photographic camera … It is important, however, to make a distinction between the enduring empirical fact that an image can be produced in this way and the camera obscura as a historically constructed artifact. For the camera obscura was not simply an inert and neutral piece of equipment or a set of technical premises to be tinkered with and improved over the years; rather, it was embedded in a much larger and denser organization of knowledge and of the observing subject.(10)

Even though Crary’s focus is on the camera obscura and only indirectly on the space that it constructs, his critique of the constructing media is still valid and analogue to our endeavor. In a more general remark to the status of the mediating technique and the observing subject he states:

Perhaps the most important obstacle to an understanding of the camera obscura, or of any optical apparatus, is the idea that optical device and observer are two distinct entities, that the identity of observer exists independently from the optical device that is a physical piece of technical equipment. For what constitutes the camera obscura is precisely its multiple identity, its ‘mixed’ status as an epistemological figure within a discursive order and an object within an arrangement of cultural practices.(11)



This is also the point that Comment finds in J.A. Eberhardt’s critique of the panorama.(12) Eberhardt raised as early as 1807 a general critique of the panorama that Robert Barker had invented in 1787. Eberhardt criticized its sense of illusion, its absence of sound, its absence of movement, its demand for a moving observer and – most important for Comment – that “the spectator’s having to shift from illusion to consciousness of deception.”(13) Comment reads Eberhardt’s critique as a questioning of artistic ethics – of which techniques that could be forced onto the spectator, and how that would influence the experience of the panorama. Comment argues: “More so than sculpture, painting constructs space, volume, depth through subtle deceptions that require the spectator to consent to being duped; the consent is warranted, but must not be inflicted.”(14)
Therefore, we have in the panorama a medium that was constructed by three positions. First, by an artist, who was the ‘puppet master’ of the panorama. Second, by the observer, who knew that he was being ‘duped’ or ‘fooled’. Third, in between the two other positions, was the techniques used to construct the panorama. Comment’s and Eberhardt’s discussion therefore goes to the level and range of the mediating techniques used in the panorama, to how much the technique of the media should influence the content of the panorama and the way the observer interacted and perceived it. Repeating Crary’s argument, we could say that they discuss the level of dependency and consensus between the observer and the spatial medium, which was and still is so strong that we cannot separate the two.

This dependency between the technique and the observer later caused the collapse of the panorama as a public spectacle. Comment explains:

From the moment that it (the ambiguous panorama) no longer subscribed to the classical logic that relied upon spectators participating in the game of the imagination for it to be complete, it gave in to the demands of totalization to the extent that it culminated in the mixing of genres for the satisfaction of all the senses – touch, sight, sound and (why not?) smell.(15)

Such an abundance of deception techniques shifted the panorama from a precise visual construction of space, to a mixed spectacle for the senses. It wanted, by all means, to recreate what it neither could nor was meant to do – the sensing experience of the human body. The panorama was, after all, a reductive construction of the real, which needed the consent of the willing observer. Instead, the abundance of deception techniques diffused the panorama as a medium and spun it off, into a series of other spatial constructions with moving backgrounds, lighting effects, soundscapes and an ever-higher degree of staging. There was, it seems, no limit to the range of techniques needed to satisfy the demands of an event-thirsty public. However, there was a limit to the amount of techniques that the panorama could contain as a medium, before it departed too much from the precise technical course that Barker had defined more than a century earlier and strained the consensus with the observer.
The result was that at the turn of the 20th century, the panorama experienced a crisis that led to its demise as a significant public spectacle, not just because of the increasing popularity of the cinema, but more so because of a loss of technical specificity and character. Comment again: “Only (Hugo d’) Alési’s Mareorama succeeded in combining panoramic configuration, simulation of movement and narration or a sense of time. But the lengths he had to go to in order to achieve this consigned his work to oblivion in favour of the nascent cinema.”(16)
As Hugo d’Alési’s dynamic spatial construction at the Great Exhibition in Paris in 1900 signaled the end of the panorama and of the 19th century, it also signaled the coming of cinema and with it, new concepts of space that were even more mediated, subjective and active, than those that were used to construct Barker’s panorama.

Media Agenda

It is too tempting, to not jump to the opposite end of our time frame and compare Barker’s panorama and Alési’s mareorama to the ‘freshH20 expo’ pavilion in The Netherlands by Lars Spuybroek and his office NOX. The fresh water pavilion is a spatial construction loaded with an impressive array of techniques, which all serve synthetic functions similar to those of the panorama and the mareorama. It reenacts aspects of reality by spatial means (the flow of water rather than the utopic metropolis), it encourages interactivity (via interactive video projections rather than the staging of an ocean liner) and it persuades the visitor (not to an imperial agenda but to an agenda of water’s ecology). Just like the space of Barker’s panorama, the space of Spuybroek’s pavilion is synthetic in its use of media, rhetorical in its function and technical in its construction. The art critic Ineke Swartz calls the pavilion: “... A dynamic system within which there is a constant, computer-mediated interaction between users, environment and building … a huge and spectacular three-dimensional media artwork where form and content are intimately related.”(17)
Besides being an exhibition pavilion with an ecological agenda, the pavilion has an architectural agenda of its own – of media, techniques and interactive space – as the symbolic space of ecology overlaps the formal space of architecture. Just as the panorama and the opera, that Tschumi mentions, the pavilion is both a rhetorical construction in space and a formal construction of space. Spuybroek explains this connection:

When the architecture is animated, the body will be too – part of the action is already in the form. This is the basis for the interactivity … The rest is done by real and virtual water. The first part of the building that starts with the three-dimensional door, is constantly flooded with water in different ways. After entering, there is the ‘glacier-tunnel’, which is completely frozen, with its melt water leaking on the floor, then there are the ‘springs’ spraying mist and water, the ‘rain bowl’ with stroboscopically illuminated rain that falls up from the bowl, and then the Well. The Well, containing 120.000 liters of water, not only has its own program of projections and light, but is also putting everything else out of balance. The Well becomes another kind of horizon, an inner horizon, not horizontal but vertical, the axis of vertigo, of falling.(18)

The freshwater pavilion has many of the same technical characteristics as the panorama and the mareorama. It is constructed by a wide range of media, where the sense of sight is supplemented by other bodily senses like temperature, physical movement, sound, touch and so on, whereby it is headed for the same collapse as the panorama. However, the pavilion has become even more internalized with no external ‘view’ at all and is almost pure process to an extent that the pavilion’s embedded space remains in the building after the contractors have left the site – not the technicians though! The pavilion is an animated design space that is constantly being designed anew as the visitors are interacting with the pavilion.



As Spuybroek has characterized it in another context: “The building may be static, but the architecture is never at rest … Therefore, it (Liquid Architecture) should always be read between organization and structure, information and form, diagram and matter, because it remains partly unformed, articulated but informal.”(19)
The idea of media being ‘in between’ is also present, when Spuybroek defines his position on architecture in more general terms. He writes:

By subjecting architecture to a species of ‘genetic engineering’ (i.e. crossing it with other media), NOX has been able to generate a supple architecture that has nestled itself in the transitional area between two worlds often thought of as parallel: the world of biological organisms and the equally diverse world of metallic and electronic organisms otherwise known as modern technology. NOX operates in that steadily growing twilight zone of blurring and fluidity.(20)

As Lars Spuybroek here describes his position, he shares the arguments from Comment’s discussion of the panorama and Crary’s description of how technique and observer are intimately dependent. Spuybroek’s approach to architecture is based on the interaction between the subject and the surrounding world and begins with structures of logic reasoning, sensory manipulation and dynamic geometry. These structures are embedded in the design space as dynamics by the use of advanced parametric modeling software and ‘informed’ spline geometry, which all remain as interaction between observer and space in the final construction. As Spuybroek has stated about the office NOX: “What you need to know is that at this office we don’t do any drawings. So, – we develop machines.”(21)
In his lecture “A Straight Line is a Badly Informed Curve” from 1999, he described, how he used such a method to construct a design space or in his terms a datascape.(22) For the project at Musee de Baux Art in Nante, France, he created an embedded space with a recursive process that fed data into a datascape, which returned a space form that again was fed to and influenced the datascape. The two directions of the process were informing from the top down, and forming from the bottom up. This was in contrast to the traditional one directional design process, where “data is going into an uninformed form and it takes shape; here the whole shaping and informing is a process”.(23) In this way, NOX’s architecture aims at breaking down the traditional barriers in architecture – not just between the architect and the user, but also between the architect and the engineer. To do this, they use specific media that goes far beyond brick and mortar. Spuybroek writes:

We are experiencing an extreme liquidization – of the world, of our language, our gender, our bodies. A situation in which everything is mediated, where all matter and space is fused with its mediated representations, where all form is blended with information. We are shifting from matter to substance, from solidity to grain and resolution; we are shifting from a space situation to a field condition. The liquid in itself is the substance of metamorphosis, of the in-between and the vectorial, of form constantly being informed by outside influences and inner coherence, expressed in a plastic metastability. Nothing, no object, no function can remain isolated; everything is in a continual process of transformation to the other – everything is necessarily opened up and leaking … To NOX, the desire for technology seems a far greater and far more destabilizing force, since our need of the accidental is far greater than our need of comfort, our need for potentialities and events far greater than our need of determination and function.(24)

This attitude towards media and technology could be seen as the re-construction of an accidental (un-designed?) interaction between architecture and observer. In the context of Barker’s panorama and Comment and Eberhardt’s critique hereof, this could be seen as a deliberate attempt to reach the state of collapse that the panorama experienced. To reach a state of liquidization through techniques, where space becomes unpredictable, where the user’s senses become ambiguous, and where the embedded space and the architecture that it produces become informed. He wants to constructs a “… form constantly being informed by outside influences and inner coherence, expressed in a plastic metastability.”(25) We could therefore argue that the space of the pavilion has become what Anthony Vidler describes as ‘cineplastics’, where architecture and cinema intersect to construct a new kind of space, where:

The ‘hitherto unknown plastic pleasures’ thereby discovered would, finally, have the effect of creating a new kind of architectural space, akin to that imaginary space ‘within the walls of the brain’ … Architects from El Lissitzky to Bruno Taut were to experiment with this new ‘pan-geometry’ as if, in Ernst Bloch’s words, it would enable them finally ‘to depict empirically an imaginary space.’(26)

Spuybroek’s pavilion is just that – a spatialization machine with both real and imagined spaces as product. What Spuybroek has constructed is in many ways an expansion of Barker’s panorama – as a spatial construction, with all its overlapping synthetic functions, but also a realization of an embedded space that is constantly in the making as the observer interacts with the spatial construction. Both the panorama and the pavilion showed that spatial constructions are able to create a passage between the imagined space in our minds and the real space for our bodies – as Vidler argued such a spatial construction might approach an empirical place in-between the real and the imagined, and thus become an embedded design space.

A Technological Imperative

As we saw in the constructed spaces – or spatial constructions – of Barker and Spuybroek there was a significant influence from the media they chose for constructing their design spaces. This to such an extent that the body and mind of the observer was inseparable from the techniques of the media, as Jonathan Crary argued. As the media set up frames, potentials and constraints for the observer, it also set up frames for the architects behind the scene.

We could for a moment return to Anton Markus Pasing, who we quoted in the beginning of this chapter, and finish his argument:

Nobody can deny that technology is a good thing. How we use it is another matter. Everybody talks of cyberspace and virtual reality, Internet and rendering, but there are remarkable aspects, which are rarely attended to in architecture. Take for instance the possibility of supporting personal likes and dislikes through technology. Why don’t we start with something that we can all do, like lying ... Translated into architecture it will then be possible to build up the dishonesties we have so far carefully cultivated to an utterly fictitious existence. Both Disneyland and, to some extent, Robert Venturi will assist us in this as the great models they are ... Anarchy? Truth? Or only the logical development of ongoing trends? Nothing changes except the electricity bill. Welcome home!(27)

Pasing’s argument is straightforward – that the media is already out there, and that it is up to the architect to use or misuse it. To Pasing the use of media is an ethical practice that is neither neutral, nor self-evident, why architects cannot be oblivious to the effects that media has on their work. This is a critique of media that resounds Comment’s discussion with Eberhardt above, of the ethical limits to how technology could distort a visitor’s sense of reality in the panorama. It also resounds the argument that Karsten Harries made in 1975, in his emphasis on the ethical function of architecture, that technology had displaced our sense of belonging, dwelling and ethos.(28)

However, what are then the warrants of technology and techniques, and how does this effect the observer, the media and the architect? How can we describe the dependencies of media and technology, when constructing embedded spaces?
First, we may observe that the discussion of technology often has the form of a critique of cultural phenomena and science, as in the case of Stephen Kern, while the discussion of techniques often is a case of design theory – methodological and pragmatic at a low and practical level. We could even argue that techniques often are ignored because they seem trivial and easily exhausted as a topic, while the direct opposite is true. Techniques are the very basis of architecture, far from trivial, widely shared among architects and crucial to every architectural activity and production, regardless of cultural phenomena. In other words, every time an architect draws up a plan or a section, he subscribes to an immense vocabulary of shared techniques – how architecture is done – and not just to the technology of the pencil – what it is done with. If we follow this argument all the way to our more general discussion of embedded spaces, we could repeat our argument from above that how a design space is constructed through media, is just as important as what it contains.
This is why, it is quite provoking when the design duo Ben van Berkel and Caroline Bos states that:

Techniques are mostly a thing of the past. The techniques of today, on the other hand, are of interest only to nerds, obsessing over the interior of a computer. Yet, techniques form the bridge between abstract thought and concrete production … Each new technology changes the world. Ontological and technological permutations are interwoven.”(29)

To separate techniques and technologies in this way and to state that techniques are a thing of the past is at least naïve. Techniques are not just inside the computer, but also very much ‘out there’, around us. They do, maybe even more so than media and technology, set up constraints for how we do architecture, while technologies have warrants and dependencies of their own. The architect Bernard Tschumi has described this by paraphrasing Paul Virilio:

‘The difference between the technology of construction and the construction of technology’. In other words, one could say that architects are not necessarily involved in the technology of construction but, inversely, should be involved with the construction of technology. Substitute media for construction, and I would be more inclined to say that architects should not be involved in the media of construction but with the construction of the media.(30)

We could see Tschumi’s argument as a call for involvement, similar to that of Pasing – for architects to take a step back and observe the construction of the media and technology, they use every day, and to be critical of its specific structures and logics.
The political theorist Langdon Winner has defined technologies as “structures whose conditions of operation demand the restructuring of their environments.”(31) In other words technologies comes with a warrant – in Winner’s words a technological imperative – that demands everything in their context to be reformed. To Winner there are two such conditions. There is an instrumental condition, which is the ‘vertical integration’ of technologies that depend on each other as the computer depends on the modem, which depends on the telephone, which depends on the power plant for the user to get on the Internet and pay the electricity bill. In the case of the panorama, this would be the interaction between visual technology, painting technology, lighting technology and so on. Further, Winner also defines an economic condition, which creates a market of supply and demand, when a particular technology is introduced, like the market for mobile phone subscriptions, when the mobile phone technology was introduced, or for human organs when the transplantation technologies emerged. In the case of the modeling technologies (CAD) that John Walker helped to introduce, there was quickly created a market for CAD technicians.
These two conditions demands substantial changes to the environment in which, the technology is placed, which also include architecture. As new technologies are introduced in architecture, they set up constraints and demands just as fast as they define new potentials. In other words, a technology is never passive, objective or innocent. Rather, it is highly active, quite influential, and creates a whole range of constraints and conditions for the observer as well as the user and the architect, which has to be taken into account, when constructing embedded spaces.

The Media of Constructions

I believe that technology and technique may very well form a bridge between the real and the imagined as van Berkel and Bos suggest. However, such a bridge is not just something, which comes along as we need it – it is constructed in media by ourselves, to suit our own needs. I believe that architects have a responsibility to construct, rather than just to select techniques and technologies, and have to acknowledge the warrants of media.
From the panorama and the ‘freshH2O expo’ pavilion we saw, how connected both the observer and the architect were to technique and media, but also how the warrants of media could be challenged and used creatively. This was also, what we saw in the previous part as MVRDV and Greg Lynn used technologies critically to construct their very different embedded spaces.

The experiments in The Virtual Architect, Push, The Blind Architect, SARIE and FIE are all constructed with this in mind. They are both real and virtual, concrete and digital, in-between real and imagined space, but always embedded spaces constructed through media, techniques and technology.

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(1) Pasing, Anton Markus (2001), “Thoughts on Architecture during Television Commercials,” in Verb Processing, Barcelona: Actar, p. 122.
(2) See the sub-chapter Lived and Unlived Space in the chapter A New View on Space.
(3) Jeremy Bentham invented the panopticon in 1791, and Robert Barker patented the panorama in 1787.
(4) Vidler, Anthony (2000), Warped Space, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, p. 100.
(5) Tschumi, Bernard (2000), “Discussion 4,” in AnyMore, ed. Cynthia C. Davidson (2000), Cambridge MA: The MIT Press, p. 183-4.
(6) Comment, Bernard (1999), The Panorama, London: Reaktion Books (translated from Le XIXe siècle des panoramas (1993)), p. 8.
(7) Term from Comment, ibid., p. 24.
(8) Ibid., p. 129. I will go on to the issue of models later, but in this context read ‘model’ as the theoretical matrix of the panorama.
(9) This is also the argument of Stephen Kern, who previously helped us to unfold space.
(10) Crary, Jonathan (1990), Techniques of the Observer, MA: The MIT Press, p. 26-27.
(11) Ibid., p. 30 (Crary’s emphasis).
(12) Comment has a reference to Eberhardt, J. A., Handbuch der Aesthetik, Halle, 1807. Further reference is unknown.
(13) Comment (1999), op. cit., p. 97.
(14) Ibid.
(15) Ibid., p. 104.
(16) Ibid., p. 108. Comment describes the Mareorama as follows: “The Mareorama combined the simulation of movement with a genuine panoramic configuration. As with The Avenger, the platform (which could accommodate as many as 700 people) was supposed to be that of a transatlantic ship, 70 meters in length that rested on a universal joint to create the illusion of the pitch and roll of a ship. Props were placed at each end of the bridge to conceal the cylinders that supported two gigantic canvases, as they were unrolled from port to starboard. Each canvas was 750 meters long and 15 meters high; in other words, there were around 20,000 square meters of painting. Spectators were able to see some of the most spectacular landscapes to be found between Marseilles and Yokohama by way of Naples, the Suez Canal, Sri Lanka, Singapore and China. Actors navigated the ship; air blowing through a layer of kelp circulated the sea breeze and imitated its smell and special lighting created night- and daytime effects. It was an all-inclusive show, a perfect illusion” (p. 74).
(17) Scwartz, Ineke (2000), “Testing Ground for Interactivity,” from http://synworld.t0.or.at/level3/text_archive/testing_ground.htm.
(18) Spuybroek, Lars (1997), “freshH2O eXPO/edit sp(l)ine,” from http://www.archis.org/archis_art_e_1997/archis_art_9709_ENG.html: Archis.
(19) Spuybroek, Lars (2000), “The Structure of Experience,” in Davidson, ed. (2000), op. cit., p. 169 and p. 172, n. 6.
(20) Spuybroek, Lars (1997), “NOX.Rotterdam/freshH2O eXPO/PROJECT edit sp(l)ine,” in Nine + One, Rotterdam: NAi Puplishers, p. 77.
(21) Spuybroek, Lars (2000), NOX vision machine, (video), from http://www.archined.nl: ArchiNed.
(22) The lecture took place at RIBA in London. The exact date has been discussed with RIBA without definite clarification.
(23) The lecture took place at RIBA in London. The exact date has been discussed with RIBA without definite clarification.
(24) Spuybroek (1997), “NOX.Rotterdam/freshH2O eXPO/PROJECT edit sp(l)ine” cit., p. 77.
(25) Ibid.
(26) Vidler (2000), op. cit., p. 102 and 108.
(27) Pasing (2001), op. cit., p. 122.
(28) Harris, Karsten (1975), “The Ethical Function of Architecture,” in Theorizing a New Agenda for Architecture An Anthology of Architectural Theory 1965-1995, ed. Kate Nesbitt, (1996), New York, NY: Princeton Architectural Press (first published in Journal of Architectural Education 29, no. 1, September 1975), p. 394-396.
(29) Berkel, Ben van & Caroline Bos (1999), Move (Techniques), Amsterdam: UN Studio & Goose Press, p. 15.
(30) Tschumi (2000), op. cit. p. 185.
(31) Winner, Langdon (1977), Autonomous Technology, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, p. 100. This connection between a culture of space and technology will be explored further in the next chapter.
© Thomas Leerberg, Designskolen Kolding 2007. Modified: Mon, 4 September 2006