Images of Action
Stepping stones set in the grass of a garden are images and imprints of footsteps. as we open a door, the body weight meets the weight of the door; the legs measure the steps as we ascend a stairway, the hand strokes the handrail and the entire body moves diagonally and dramatically through space.
there is an
inherent suggestion of action in images of architecture, the moment of active encounter, or a ‘promise of function’125 and purpose. ‘the objects which surround my body refl
ect its possible action upon them,’ writes Henri
Bergson.126 It is this
possibility of action that separates architecture from other forms of art. as
a consequence of this implied action, a bodily reaction is an inseparable
aspect of the experience of architecture. a meaningful architectural experience
is not simply a series of retinal images. the ‘elements’ of
architecture are not visual units or Gestalt; they are encounters,
confrontations that interact with memory. ‘In such
memory, the past is embodied in actions. Rather than being contained separately
somewhere in the mind or brain, it is actively an ingredient in the very bodily
movements that accomplish a particular action,’ Edward
Casey writes of the interplay of memory and actions.
The experience of home is structured by distinct activities – cooking, eating, socialising, reading, storing, sleeping, intimate acts – not by visual elements. A building is encountered; it is approached, confronted, related to one’s body, moved through, utilised as a condition for other things. Architecture initiates, directs and organises behaviour and movement. A building is not an end in itself; it frames, articulates, structures, gives significance, relates, separates and unites, facilitates and prohibits. Consequently, basic architectural experiences have a verb form rather than being nouns. Authentic architectural experiences consist then, for instance, of approaching or confronting a building, rather than the formal apprehension of a facade; of the act of entering, and not simply the visual design of the door; of looking in or out through a window, rather than the window itself as a material object; or of occupying the sphere of warmth, rather than the fireplace as an object of visual design. Architectural space is lived space rather than physical space, and lived space always transcends geometry and measurability.
In his analysis of Fra Angelico’s Annunciation in the charming essay ‘From the Doorstep to the Common Room’ (1926), Alvar Aalto recognises the verb-essence of architectural experience by speaking of the act of entering the room, not of the formal design of the porch or the door.
Modern architectural theory and critique have had a strong tendency to regard space as an immaterial object delineated by material surfaces, instead of understanding space in terms
of dynamic interactions and interrelations. Japanese thinking, however, is founded on a relational understanding of the concept of space. In recognition of the verb-essence of the architectural experience, Professor Fred Thompson uses the notions of ‘spacing’ instead of ‘space’, and of ‘timing’ instead of ‘time’, in his essay on the concept of Ma, and the unity of space and time in Japanese thinking.129 He aptly describes units of architectural experience with gerunds, or verb-nouns.