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A Student’s Voice To Whom It Might Concern

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In  24  years  of  my   life,   I   spent  18  of   them  studying,  establishing  myself   through  books,  

and  growing  along  the  corridors,  rooms  and  dark  corners  of  two  houses:  mine  (a  home)  

the  one  I  may  consider  an  axis  for  time  and  space;  and  the  school  (in  the  broader  sense  

of   the   word),   the   place   were   intellectual   knowledge   was   given   -­‐   an   axis   for   all  

cogitations.  These  are  spaces  that  will  stay  in  us,  in  our  souls  and  in  our  bodies,  forever.  

18  years,  as  a  consequence,  living  the  phenomena  of  “being  a  student”.    

Those  places  of  knowledge  imprinted  memories   in  us,  thoughts  and  emotions,  and  the  

opposite  is  also  true,  since  the  walls  of  a  room,  and  the  space  within,  not  only  may  tell  

moments  of  our  lives,  but  also  shape  moments  in  our  lives,  modeling,  therefore,  us.  The  

topoanalysis  developed  by  Gaston  Bachelard  in  “The  Poetics  of  Space”  corroborates  this  

thought,   and   though   being   only   applied   in   houses,   a   school   could   also   be   submitted  

under  this  phenomenological  tool  since  it’s  a  place  where  we  spent  substantial  years  of  

our   time   –   especially   for   professors,   workers,   investigators   and   students   –   sharing  

experiences,  unveiling  tears  of  emotion,  etc.  The  experience  of  being  a  student  can  tell  

us  this;  no  academic  reference  is  needed  here  to  reach  this  conclusion.  

But  how  did   I   learn?  Well,  mostly  by   sitting   in  a  chair,  with  a  book  on  a  desk,  and  my  

gaze   directed   upon   the   teacher   or   the   professor.   If   one   hadn’t   to   be   focused   in   the  

taught  subject,  one  could  have  the  same  experience  of  being  in  a  theatre,  with  the  actor  

wondering  around  the  room,  writing   in  the  blackboard,  shouting  some  thoughts  about  

something.  I  learnt  in  a  clear  division  between  the  ‘schoolmaster’  and  the  ‘ignoramuses’,  

as   Jacques  Rancière  would   sayi.  With   some  distance,  we   could   see   the   classroom  as   a  

performance   site,   a   theatre   of   spectators   and   actors,   and   a   huge   pit   in   the   middle,  

preventing  the  spectator  from  participating  freely.  Even  if  word  was  sometimes  given  to  

us,  we  wouldn’t  feel  comfortable  to  elevate  our  voice  and  explain  our  point  of  view.  The  

professor   was   the   sole   holder   of   intelligence   in   the   classroom.   Discussing   with   the  

partner   next   seat   about   a   book,   or   that   particular   lecture,   was   impossible   and  

considered  an  act  of  transgression.  There  was  no  innovation  in  professing  an  idea;  it  was  

always  the  same  stiff  and  rigid  method.  There  was  no  sort  of  “experimentalism”  (more  

on  this  shortly)  that  enabled  us  the  self-­‐discovery  of  a  subject,  a  thought,  a  set  of  things;  

self-­‐didactic   routines   were   not   stimulated;   peer-­‐to-­‐peer   intellectual   discussions   were  

not   encouraged.   Everything   took   place   in   the   same   dim   lighted   rooms,   in   an   endless  

succession  of  desks  and  chairs  aligned.  In  short,  there  was  no  communion  per  se;  there  

was  no  participation  that  could  lead  to  an  emancipatory  discourse  of  the  student;  there  

 

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was  no  will  in  developing  the  political  part,  or  discourse,  in  us.  Some  exceptions  may  be  

ruled  out,  but  this  was  the  standard.    

What’s   being   suggested   here   is   an   individual   political   voice,   independent   of   political  

activities   and   there’s   a   difference   between   these   things.   Hanna   Arendt,   in   the   article  

“The  Crisis   in  Education”  (1957)  explains  how  education  can  be  turned  as  a  weapon  of  

political   tyrannies.   Here,   instead,   one   suggests   the   political   discourse   of   responsibility  

and  knowledge  towards  society.  It  was  as  if  democracy  arrived  at  all  institutions,  except  

at  the  act  of  learning.  And  some  may  point  that  this  standard  is  an  almost  perfect  canon  

to  avoid  indiscipline  inside  the  classroom.  But  the  development  of  the  political  being  in  

us   may   induce   to   greater   awareness   of   our   position   in   society,   our   rights   and   our  

obligations  towards  others,   in  so  far  with  this  encouragement  of  a  political  self,  comes  

responsibility  and  tolerance.  

The  space  was  the  major  hurdle  in  the  way;  the  layout  of  the  classroom,  I  mean.  As  said,  

an   infinite   alignment   of   chairs,   symmetric   to   each   other,   the   schoolmaster   there,   the  

student   elsewhere;   an   invisible  wall   in   the  middle.   There  were   no   proximity  with   the  

tutor,   and   the   class  was   too   big   for   someone   to   feel   comfortable   in   exposing   his/her  

thoughts.   Thankfully,   in   the   University,   things   changed   a   bit,   where   we   had   a  

classroom/atelier  where  occasionally  our  professor  came  to  us  to  speak,  suggest,  even  

lecture  to  us  in  a  group  of  about  6  students.  There  were  a  group  of  7  tables  and  in  each  

table   sat   6   students   developing   projects,   developing   thoughts,   ideas.   This   new   layout  

established   a   warm   environment   of   creation   and   discussion.   One   could   talk   about  

architecture,   but   also   about   art,   politics,   economics,   even   theology   and   philosophy;  

which   brings   us   to   the   contents   of   a   lesson.   Sometimes,   those   discussions   became   so  

broadened   that   the   content   of   lessons   were   also   forced   to   become   wider,   and   thus,  

richer.   But  of   course,   there  was   always   an   itinerant   tutor  walking   from   table   to   table,  

guiding  us,  and  sharing  his/her  experiences  and  knowledge.    

This  said,  the  informality  of  the  classroom’s  layout  gave  us  a  sense  of  security,  comfort  

and  integration  to  share  our  points  of  view,  and  so,  to  grow  intellectually.  We  even  ate  

there,  some  slept  during  night  hours  of  work  for  the  next  day  presentation;  but  it  didn’t  

matter,   because   it   was   a   room   of   fun,   but   serious   creation;   a   room   of   friendship,  

sociability,   maturation   and   understanding;   a   room   of   communion   and   empathyii;   a  

communal  of  knowledge.  However,  not  all  subjects  shared  this  innovation.  

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Sequence   of   frames   taken   form   the   movie   Pink  

Floyd  –  The  Wall  (1982),  by  Alan  Parker.  This   is  an  

interpretation   of   what   the   education   system   is  

conceived   for:   an   industry   of  minds   and   indistinct  

faces,   wondering   around   the   mazes   of   school  

corridors.   Students   are   seen   as   products,   meat,  

flesh,  to  be  minced  and  sold  to  markets.  It’s  a  grey  

image   in   the   age   of   political   convulsions   and   the  

liberal   and   conservative   policies   of   Margaret  

Thatcher.  

 

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Yet,   what   was   taught   in   the   classroom   was   more   of   a   theoretical   approach   to   life   -­‐  

better:  an  abstract  approach  to  life  -­‐   instead  of  a  direct  practice  in  contact  with  things.  

Our  knowledge  comes  from  perception  of  things  in  space  and  time  and  that  perception  

is   achieved   through   our   body,   as  Merleau-­‐Ponty  wrote   throughout   his   life   and  whose  

study   lies  on  phenomenology.  Knowledge  comes  mainly  with  experience  and   from  the  

essences  of  phenomena.  As  Husserl   (Ideas)  explained:  “phenomenology   is   the  study  of  

essences”.   In   this   way,   phenomenology   is   the   answer   to   human   experiences   and,  

consequently,   to   consciousness   and   knowledge.   This   is   given   through   perception.  

Knowledge   comes   from   perceived   things.   Our   perception   and   our   sensations   are  

indistinguishable,   since  our  perceptions   come  directly   from  embodied   sensations.   Lots  

of  philosophers  may  attest  this.  This  experience  may  come  from  day  life  world,  from  the  

empiricist  practice,  or  else,  the  “radical  empiricist”  practice  as  David  Seamon  would  put  

and  considering  his  view  on  phenomenology.    We  are  enmeshed   in   the  world,  and  so,  

we  are  connected  with  things.  If  we’re  studying  a  rock  we  ought  to  touch  it,  see  it  in  our  

bare  hands,  weight  it,  smell  it,  sense  its  roughness  and  by  this  way,  feel  the  structure  it  

is  made  of.  We  must  have  the  phenomena  right   in   front  of  us;  we  must  dive   in   it  and,  

without  any  preconceptions,  reach  to  its  core,  its  essence.    

But  all  that  has  been  said  so  far  is  not  only  a  reflection  from  educational  space,  but  also  

their  lectured  contents,  or  else,  how  those  lectures  are  formulated  to  students.  If  we’re  

seeking   for   a   revolution   in   learning   space,   we   should   also   seek   for   a   revolution   in  

educational  culture  –  at  the  same  time;  how  that  education  is  professed  from  the  tutor  

to   its   pupils.   Space   of   lecturing   and   lecture  work   in   both  ways.   For   instance:   if   we’re  

being  taught  about  Portuguese  contemporary  architecture,  there’s  no  better  space  to  be  

taught  in  than  a  building  from  that  period.  All  the  atmosphere  of  that  period,  enmeshed  

in  the  walls  of  the  building  and  its  physicality,  would  resonate  in  us,  thus  giving  a  more  

accurate  and  sincere  context  of  a  similar  buildings.  It  would  require  a  change  of  spaces  

and  a  change  of  mentality  from  all  college  administrators  and  professors.  Even  a  library,  

with   its  shelves  of  books  as  walls  would  be  a  better   learning  place  for  History,  than  an  

aseptic  auditorium-­‐like  space.  It  would  require  a  decentralization  of  the  learning  space;  

not  sporadic,  but  constant  and  contextualized.  This  was  a  thought  that  stroke  me  from  

the  very  beginning  of  university.  

This  idea  of  decentralization  could  be  seen  as  benefit  for  the  education  itself,  but  also  a  

benefit  for  those  places  where  decentralization  is  being  pursued.  For  instance:  I  always  

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wondered  what  would  be  like  to  have  an  educational  system  of  architecture  where  we  

(pupils)  would  have  our  apprenticeship  in  our  professors’  atelier.  What  would  be  like  to  

have   a   closer   approach   to   architectural   practice?   In   the   ancient   times   a   painting  

apprentice  would  have  its   learning  foundations  in  a  master’s  atelier.  Leonardo  da  Vinci  

had  his  training  in  Verrocchio’s  workshop;  and  so  lots  of  his  contemporaries.  If  this  idea  

was  to  be  recovered  nowadays,  we  could  see  a  mass  of  young  students  spread  all-­‐over  

the   city,   creating   new   dynamics   around   the   places   where   their   professor’s   atelier   is.  

Those  places  could  receive  an  economic  and  social  boost,  but  especially  a  cultural  one,  

proposing   a   regeneration   of   some   urban   tissues   only   by   this   new   practices   and  

presences.  Some  ateliers  could  also  benefit  from  this  chain  of  youth  and  raw  creativity,  

stripped  of  those  heavy  preconceptions  of  experiences  from  the  past.  

Nowadays  we  see   the   revolution  of  education  as  a   technological   issue.  Computers  are  

being   integrated   in   classrooms,  data-­‐shows   for  projections  –   the  blackboard   is   gone   -­‐,  

huge  TV’s,  laptops,  the  written  word  is  being  replaced  by  typed  word,  etc.  But  this  isn’t  a  

revolution;   this   is   new  machinery   for  old   time  habits.   Educational   revolution  precedes  

and/or  follows  a  cultural  revolution  and  only  the  last  one  may  come  from  technological  

advances.  However,  things  must  be  seen  as  a  whole.   If  we   introduce  a   laptop  for  daily  

educational   practice,   why   not   change   curricula   by   updating   it;   say   by   introducing   a  

software  design  subject,  or  encoding,  programming?  And  what  benefits  may  come  from  

this  practice?  Better  jobs,  updated  skills  for  laboring,  toughened  know-­‐how,  etc.  But  this  

implicates  new  spaces  of  lecture.  The  old  classroom  system  may  not  be  appropriate  for  

these  new  acquaintances.  

But  before  jumping  to  open  educational  spaces  I  would  like  to  share  a  bitter  experience  

of  being  a  student.  Previously  I  wrote  about  “experimentalism”.  What  I  wanted  to  say  is  

that   there   isn’t   an   encouragement   for   practicing   risk-­‐like   practices,   experiences   based  

on  error  and  discovery.  This  is  the  word:  discovery,  as  a  search  for  something  out  of  the  

ordinary;   an   adventure   within   our   research   basis;   within,   in   my   case,   architectural  

research/project.  Not  only  this  wasn’t  encouraged,  but  also  there  was  a  fear  inside  us  of  

putting   it   in   practice   by   our   own   means.   Results   and   statistics   were   the   major   fear.  

Nobody   liked  a  bad  result   in  a  subject  that  could  haunt  him/her  for  the  rest  of  his/her  

professional  life.  Who  doesn’t  search,  doesn’t  reach;  who  doesn’t  risk  by  experimenting  

new   things,   doesn’t   get   new   feelings,   new   knowledge,   new   perceptions.   The  

 

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experimentation   and   its   regular   daily   practice   should   be   implemented   if   we’re   to  

consider  creativity  as  a  true  key  for  success  and  not  statistics  and  grades.  

In  the  year  of  2008  –  if  my  head  doesn’t  trick  me  –  our  professors  from  Project  II  decided  

to   show   some   of   our   videos   about   a   given   architect   to   the   whole   university.   So   we  

figured   out   this   sort   of   tent   to   house   our   videos.   We   put   chairs   there,   a   sofa   and   a  

projector.  People  passed,  watched  the  videos  and  eventually   learned  something  about  

architecture  (or  so  we  hoped).  When  no  film  was  being  showed,  students  just  grabbed  a  

chair,   or   the   sofa,   and   sat   in   the  middle   of   the  Civil   atrium,   talking,   chilling   and   some  

studying.  What  we  all   concluded  after   that  brief   intervention   is   that   there  was  a  huge  

space   underused,   with   so   much   potential   that   few   cared   about.   In   the   same   year,  

NucleAR  (Architecture  Student’s  Association)  made  an  Installation  with  body  silhouettes,  

as   shadows  of  ourselves   immobilized   in  a  moment,   spread  all  over   the  atrium.  People  

walked   around,   through   those   silhouettes,   pictures  were   taken,   new   arrangements   of  

the   installation   were   formulated…  Most   of   our   classmates   enjoyed   it,   acknowledging  

that  it  broke  the  ever  monotonous  atmosphere  of  that  empty  space.    

Next   year,   other   colleagues   took   the   wheels   of   the   association   and   made   a   new  

approach  to  the  atrium,  transforming  it  in  an  informal  classroom,  where  each  day  a  new  

professor  or  professional  was  invited  to  speak  about  a  given  theme.  Anyone  could  join  in  

that  lecture  and  learn,   listen  and/or  participate.  A  set  of  white  sheets  were  installed  in  

the   air,   marking   the   space   and   creating   a   soothing   and   warming   ambience   for  

conversations  below.    

In  my  first  year  of  graduation  that  same  space  had  already  a  major  installation  made  out  

of  beer  boxes  which  anyone  could  interact  with  it  by  changing  its  form.  In  this  context,  

our   colleagues   aimed   for   ever   changing   installation,   democratic,   and   so  we   could   see  

new   forms   and   spaces   being   altered   every   day   for   about   a   week.   This   was   a   huge  

initiative  that  not  only  changed  the  space  itself,  but  also  added  some  artistic  discussions  

in  a  school  almost  fixated  in  technic  education  as  all  sorts  of  engineering  subjects.  It  also  

created   regularity   in   these   kinds   of   initiatives,   establishing   a   week   dedicated   to  

architecture  and  alike  interventions  in  campus.  We  were  eager  to  learn.  We  were  eager  

to   show  our  progress.  We  were  eager   to   share.  That’s  what   these   initiatives  were   for.  

They  came  from  students  to  everyone  -­‐  but  especially  for  them.  We  were  eager  to  invest  

even  more  in  our  education.  

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Project  developed  by  Grupo  4,  in  the  3rd  edition  of  Projecto  Relâmpago  (‘Lightning  Project’)  

 

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Parallel  to  these  practices,  a  new  event  was  added:  the  Lightning  Week;  a  week  where  

we  had   to  make   a  project,   or   a   proposition  of   a  project/idea   in  one   sole  week.   There  

were  several  groups  of  students,  each  one  with  different  stages  of   learning  –  from  the  

1st  year,  to  the  last  one  –  who  had  to  gather  and  form  a  suggestion  for  a  given  theme,  or  

space.   The   idea   itself   was   rather   original   and   it   first   came   from   a   student   and   then  

secluded  by  Professor  Teresa  Heitor,  coordinator  of  all  Architecture’s  subjects.  But   the  

most   staggering   originality   was   linked,   again,   to   that   same   atrium   I’ve   been   writing  

about,  which  was  transformed  in  a  giant  classroom,  where  not  only  professors  from  all  

subjects  came  to  help  us,  but  also  colleagues  from  engineering  could  join  and  take  part  

of  that  creativeness.  That  same  giant  classroom  was  there  for  everyone  to  see  it.  No  one  

could  pass   indifferent   to   that  huge,   improvised   classroom.   I   took  presence   in   three  of  

the   already   founded   four   Lightning  Week   events   and   I   can   say   that   it   was   the   most  

amazing  experience  I’ve  lived  in  University.  We  could  experiment  in  a  space  of  ravishing  

creativity,   apart   from  all  preconceptions,   and   in  which  new  knowledge  was  drunk  and  

new  friendships  were  shaped.  I’m  incredibly  proud  of  those  projects,  each  one  of  them,  

to  which  I  gave  my  best,  and  the  best  was  given-­‐back  to  me.  For  me,  it  was  a  moment  of  

artistic  escapism,  a  suspension  of  all  formed  dogmas.    

This   said,   anyone   can  understand  now   the   intrinsic,   but   sleeping   value  of   big   atriums,  

which  sometimes  can  be  awakened  to  generate  new  dynamics  of  learning.  In  fact,  these  

events  were   already   an   extension  on   several   exhibitions   taken   in   that   same   space.   By  

the   end   of   each   semester,   and   by   the   beginning   of   a   new  one,   all   year’s   projects   are  

exhibited  for  all  community  to  see.  Exhibits  are  the  ground  zero  of  informal  learning  in  

what  concerns  huge  voids  as  atriums.  Such  a  simple  thing,  with  very  limited  amounts  of  

efforts,  can  make  a  huge  difference  in  our  daily  life,  sometimes  breaking  it,  by  disrupting  

our   routine,   other   times   by   creating   new   lifestyles   or   new   strains   of   knowledge   and  

discussions.    

                                                                                                                         i  Jacques  Rancière  (The  Emancipated  Spectator,  2010)  wrote  this  rather  amusing  anecdote  about  a  chosen  ignorant  schoolmaster  to  lecture  some  ignoramuses  in  order  to  sustain  the  illiteracy  and  avoid  the  knowledge  among  lower  classes  of  society.  People  could  not  know  too  much,  because  it   could   compromise   the   supremacy   and   absolutism   of   aristocracy,   courts,   and   higher   classes.  What’s  written  in  this  text,  however,  has  no  relation  to  social  hierarchies  or  classes;   instead  it’s  the   cultural   common   minimum   denominator   which   I’m   interested   in,   that   may   pass   from  professor  to  student.  ii   Interesting   fact:   students   from   other   courses   envied   us   and   some   of   those   told   us   so.   They  would  kill  for  a  room  like  ours.  Even  if  those  classrooms  were  for  the  exclusive  use  of  architecture  students,   sometimes,   colleagues   from   engineering   would   join   us   and   some   would   ask   us   for  guidance  in  some  presentation  about  architecture.    

10    

 

 

“House of Secrets”, by Ana Vidigal. An Informal Experience.

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In   April   2012   an   Installation  was   placed   in   the   atrium   of   the   “central   pavilion”   of   the  

Instituto  Superior  Técnico  campus  in  Lisbon  (IST  Alameda  campus).  The  piece  symbolized  

one   century   of   the   existence  of   IST.   The   artist   in   charge  of   such   commemoration  was  

Ana  Vidigal,  a  renowned  Portuguese  artist,  with  a  work  of  about  30  years.  Ana  proposed  

a  labyrinth  of  safes  dislocated  from  Civil’s  Pavilion,  and  arranged  according  to  the  artist  

idea   of   creating   a   “House   of   Secrets”   (2012)   –   this   was   the   title,   even   though   the  

concept   was   more   profound   than   a   house.   She   managed   to   create   an   Installation  

(actually  used  by  students)  that  made  us  think  about  private  property  in  a  public  space,  

in  the  broader  sense  of  intimacy,  secrecy  and  show  business.  

The  artist’s  work  has  been  suggested  as  ironic,  sometimes  even  humorous,  but  this  time,  

given   the   site-­‐specificity   of   the   Installation   it   all   sounds   rather   severe   and   serious.   In  

fact,  such  concept,  with  all  the  notions   it  touches,  must  be  taken  with  seriousness   in  a  

world  where  secrecy  and  intimacy  are  being  taken  from  man.  Hanna  Arendt  wrote  about  

this   in   the   “Human  Condition”,   as   an   inevitable   issue   for   contemporary   human  being.  

Ana   Vidigal   managed   her   humor   by   giving   the   same   title   of   a   reality   show   for   her  

creation.  But  when  we  think  of  these  two  relations,  all  seems  incredibly  melancholic.  It’s  

this  melancholia  that  –  paradoxically  –  shook  me  and  made  me  think  harder  about  my  

daily  life  and  what  I  must  value  as  true  intimacy  to  be  kept  in  secret.  

But  what   turns   this  work  of  art   incredibly   cohesive  and   solid   is   the   fact   that   the  artist  

managed  the  whole  spectrum  of  scales:  from  micro  to  macro,  and  vice-­‐versa.  From  the  

campus,   to   the  maze  of   safes,  everything  had  a   link,  a  connection.  Ana  created  a   site-­‐

specific  installation,  starting  from  the  local  space,  all  its  materiality  and  spatiality  and  all  

sense  of  neuralgic  confluence  of  the  entire  community  in  that  same  atrium.  This  is  what  

site-­‐specific  art  means,  an  oeuvre   from  place   to  place,   from  community   to  community  

(even   if   this   suggests   a   reformulation  of   the   idea  of   specificity:   from   site-­‐specificity   to  

community-­‐specificity).  At  the  same  time,  Ana  established  a  dialogue  with  the  memory  

of  that  same  space  that  may  be  seen  more  explicitly  in  the  catalogue  of  the  exhibition,  

where   it  explains  and  reveals  all  of  the  side-­‐research  for  the  project.  The  memory  that  

goes  back  and   forth;   from  the  era  of  Portuguese  dictatorship  –  when   the  campus  was  

opened  –  to  our  pale  democratic  times  of  the  present.  The  installation  was  democratic,  

in  a  way  that  people  could  interact  with  it  by  opening  or  closing  safes,  therefore  creating  

new  perspectives  and  new  perceptions  of  the  project.  It  had  what  an  Installation,  as  a    

 

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Two   images   of   the   Installation   “House   of   Secrets”,   by   Ana   Vidigal   (2012).   Upper   photo:   South   entrance   of   the  labyrinth,   usually   taken   as   the   main   entrance   of   the   Installation.   Bellow:   Installation   as   seen   from   the   1st   floor  mezzanine  of  the  Central  Pavilion  of  IST.  

 

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Detail  of  a  safe  from  the  Installation.  Most  of  safes  were  used  by  students,  but  there  were  also  safes  unlocked,  unoccupied,  whose  doors  could  be  open  if  the  visitor  (or  the  user)  wished.  (These  photos  cannot  explain  the  absolute  experience  of  the  Installation  as  well  its  vast  coherence  with  its  surroundings.  Only  a  strong  exercise  of  imagination  may  lead  to  a  closer  approach  to  the  real  lived  experience.)  

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free   artistic   medium   if   usually   made   of:   context,   interaction   and   an   immersive  

experience.  

Actually  this   last  paragraph  may  possibly  be  linked  to  a  phenomenological  reflection  of  

‘space  ballet’   studied  by  David  Seamon.  Seamon  revealed  us   the  behavior  our  dancing  

bodies  in  space  with  this  theory.  The  perception  of  space  and  time  comes  from  our  body  

in  touch  with  things  and  people.  We  live  in  a  world  prior  to  us,  and  when  we’re  born,  we  

grow  in  it,  with  its  already  given  things.  But  everything,  everyone,  is  perceived  according  

to   our   body   in   space   and   time,   Merleu-­‐Ponty   wrote   that   through   all   his   life   as   a  

philosopher   (Phenomenology   of   Perception,   1945;   Éloge   de   la   Philosophie   et   autres  

essais,   1960;   L’oeil   et   l’espirit,   1961).   This  notion  of   ‘space  ballet’   is   a   recognition  of   a  

subliminal,   but   present,   choreography   of   ourselves   with   others   in   a   given   space;   of  

mixed   routines,   formulated   by   us,   most   of   times,   inadvertently.   Hence,   Seamon  

characterized   ‘space   ballet’   as   an   agglutination   of   mechanical   routines   and   extended  

routines  (like  getting  up,  or  having  lunch);  from  that  collision  comes  ‘space  ballet’.  

A  collision,  therefore,   implicates  several  dynamics  as  well  as  multiple  particles.  We  are  

particles  moving   in   different  ways,   according  with   our   desires   and   intentions;  moving  

through  diverse  periods  and  depth.  These  faculties  of  our  liveliness  affect  our  perception  

of  things,  of  people,  of  the  world,  and  create  ‘regularities’  and  ‘unexpectedness’   in  our  

experience  of   time  and   space.  Coincidently,   the   juxtaposition  of   time-­‐space   routines  –  

which  are  the  foundations  of  ‘space  ballet’  –  are  made  of  those  same  ‘regularities’  and  

‘unexpectedness’.    

David   Seamon   studied   an   old  market   in   Sweden,   arguing   (among   other   things)   that   it  

was  a  perfect  example  of  a  ‘space  ballet’.  People  came,  made  their  shopping  and  at  the  

same   time   they   run   across   cultural   manifestations,   casual   encounters   long   unseen  

relatives,   etc.   It   was   a   continuum   that   could   not   be   seen   exclusively   as   an   economic  

feature,   but   also   social   and   cultural.   It  was   a   space   of   communitarian   experiences,   of  

communion   and   well   established   atmospheres;   as   Seamon   put   it   into   words:   “[space  

ballet]  provides  a  concept  that  might  have  a  role  in  protecting,  enhancing,  and  creating  

environments  that  generate  a  sense  of  vitality,  atmosphere,  and  well-­‐being”iii.  

What   live   observations   and   some   surveys   concluded   is   that   an   atrium   is   also   a   ‘space  

ballet’,   just   by   its   given   nature.   But   when   an   Installation   is   created   there,   that   same  

space   changes,   and   a   new   space   ballet   was   also   generated.   It   was,   as   the   market   in  

 

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Sweden,  a  place  of  regular  daily  routines,  but  also  unexpectedness.  Students,  professors  

and   workers   were   confronted   and   invited   to   contemplate   and   discuss   that   ‘strange  

construction’  that  suddenly  appeared  in  the  atrium.  They  gathered  around  the  corners,  

by  the  columns,  or   in  the  corridors  to  make  comments  about  the  work  of  art  that  Ana  

suggested;   nothing   similar   as   been   done   before  with   such   impact   in   that   same   place;  

nothing  lead  people  to  question  it  and  its  nature.  On  their  way  to  a  classroom  they  had  

to  face  a  new  reality  in  space.  Maybe  some  even  had  a  small  chat  with  a  colleague  that  

hadn’t   had   time   to   talk   for   a   while   and   now   they   found   the   opportunity   with   a   new  

object   in   their   workspace   as   a   starting   point   for   dialogue.   The   unexpectedness   came  

through  art  and  art  was  not  part  of  the  daily  basis  of  that  department/pavilion.  Actually,  

the   layout   of   the   installation   –   a   labyrinth   –   enabled   the   sudden,   sporadic   and  

unpredicted  meetings  between  people.    

Thus,   if   the   space   changed,   and   time   had   a   new   course   through   the   movement   of  

individuals,  new  experiences  were  created,  in  so  far  a  new  perception  of  things  was  now  

available  through  the  installation.    

Most   of   the   surveys   conducted   for   the   study   of   the   experience   of   being   in   “House   of  

Secrets”  had  interesting  answers  from  all  kinds  of  people.  Some  understood  the  concept  

and   its   materialization,   others   didn’t.   Some   liked   it,   others   not   so   much.   Some   felt  

immediately  the  presence  of  art,  others  thought  it  was  some  logistical  change.  But  most  

acknowledged  the  impact  of  the  installation  and  live  observations  could  prove  that.  Even  

if  they  hadn’t  been  able  to   link  all  parts  of  the  project  –  a   labyrinth,  mirrors,  safes  and  

the  Art  Deco  skylight  of  the  building  –  all  seemed  to  enjoy  that  particular  experience,  in  

that  particular  place.    

In   short,   new   horizons   were   opened   and   the   subject   of   art   lived   along   with   physics,  

mathematics  and  engineering  for  about  two  months.  This  is,  in  fact,  the  main  lesson  to  

retrieve  from  this  text:  the  impact  of  an  interdisciplinary  enterprise,  through  Installation  

Art,  in  a  community  typically  focused  on  technics.  

                                                                                                                         iii  SEAMON,  David,  NORDIN,  Christina,  “Marketplace  as  a  Place  Ballet:  a  Swedish  example”.  Seen  in  21-­‐09-­‐12,  at    http://ksu.academia.edu/DavidSeamon/Papers/176631/Marketplace_as_Place_Ballet_A_Swedish_Example              

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                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             References:    -­‐BACHELARD,  Gaston,  “The  Poetics  of  Space”.  The  Beacon  Press,  Boston,  1994  -­‐BISHOP,  Clair,  “Installation  Art:  A  Critical  History”.  Tate  Publishing,  London,  2010  -­‐HUSSERL,  Edmund,  “A  Ideia  da  Fenomenologia”.  Edições  70,  Lda.,  Lisboa,  2008  -­‐LYOTARD,  Jean-­‐François,  “A  Fenomenologia”.  Edições  70,  LDA.,  Lisboa,  2008  -­‐MERLEU-­‐PONTY,  Maurice,  “Phenomenology  of  Perception”.  Routledge  Classics,  New  York,  2002  -­‐MERLEAU-­‐PONTY,  Maurice,  “Elogio  da  Filosofia”.  Guimarães  Editores,  5ª  Edição,  Lisboa,  1998  -­‐SEAMON,   David,   “Gaston   Bachelard’s   Topoanalysis   in   the   21st   Centutry:   The   Lived   Reciprocity   Between  Houses  and  Inhabitants  as  Portrayed  by  American  Writer  Louis  Bromfield”.  At  www.arch.ksu.edu/seamon/  -­‐SEAMON,  David,   “Phenomenology,   Place,   Environment   and   Architecture:   a   Review”.   In   Environmental  &  Architectural  Phenomenology  Newsletter.  Seen  on-­‐line,  at  http://www.arch.ksu.edu/seamon/articles/2000_phenomenology_review.htm  -­‐SEAMON,  David,  NORDIN,  Christina,  “Marketplace  as  a  Place  Ballet:  a  Swedish  example”.  Seen  in  21-­‐09-­‐12,  at    http://ksu.academia.edu/DavidSeamon/Papers/176631/Marketplace_as_Place_Ballet_A_Swedish_Example