Environmental & Architectural
Phenomenology Newsletter
The Fragile Phenomenology of Juhani Pallasmaa
M. Reza Shirazi
Shirazi is an Iranian architect who taught and practiced in his home country for five years. Since 2005, he has been a doctoral student in the L.S. Theorie der Architektur, Brandenburgische Technische Universität Cottbus [Brandenburg University of Technology] in Cottbus, Germany, under the supervision of Prof. Eduard Führ. Shirazi’s dissertation is entitled, “Architectural Theory and Practice and the Question of Phenomenology: The Contribution of Tadao Ando to the Phenomenological Discourse.” He is co-editor of Cloud-Cuckoo-Land, an international journal of architectural theory. mr_shirazi@yahoo.com. © 2009 M. Reza Shirazi.
Juhani Pallasmaa is a Finnish architect and phenomenologist whose numerous writings on phenomenology have played a vital role in developing phenomenological discourse in architecture. Influenced by Husserl and his notion of “presuppositionless looking,” Pallasmaa writes that phenomenology “means ‘pure looking at’ the phenomenon” or “viewing its essence” [1].
One prominent aspect of Pallasmaa’s phenomenology is his notion of “multi-sensory architecture.” His attention to the supremacy of vision in both Western philosophy and architecture points to a problematic emphasis in the history of the perception of space. He proposes that the almost neglected presence of all the senses except sight in the perceptual process gives a special quality to his understanding of phenomenology. He explains: “Experience of architecture is multi-sensory; qualities of matter, space and scale are measured equally by the eye, ear, nose, skin, tongue, skeleton and muscle. Architecture strengthens… one’s sense of being in the world, essentially giving rise to a strengthened experience of self” [2].
In fact, an architecture of the senses holds us near to things and brings us into the “within.” Criticizing the supremacy of vision is criticizing “phenomenology from without”—a phenomenology founded in “viewing from distance” and a “far looking at.” Instead, the aim must be a “phenomenology from within”—a “near phenomenology.” Often drawing on a cinematic language, Pallasmaa presents mostly architectural “close ups”—not “long shots” [3]. In this sense, his approach to perception is rooted in what he calls a “sensory architecture” through which the body approaches things intimately and experiences them as “nearby.”
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A second prominent aspect of Pallasmaa’s architectural phenomenology is his emphasis on architectural experience as a verb rather than as a noun. In interpreting architecture as a verb, one focuses on action and movement in perception. This perspective emphasizes multi-sensory engagement, since the moving body is typically more open and present to the moment than the static body. As he explains, “A building is encountered; it is approached, confronted, related to one’s body, moved through, utilized as a condition for other things. Architecture directs, scales, and frames actions, perceptions, and thoughts” [4].
In this regard, Pallasmaa criticizes three current tendencies in architecture: The commodification of buildings; the self-defeating search for newness; and the hegemony of the marketable image. Instead, he contends that architectural theory, criticism, and education must return attention to the now-neglected cultural grounds of architecture, attempting to present a more complete experience of the building grounded in the fullness of bodily encounter rather than the experiential limitations of visual interpretation only. One example he uses is the visual constriction of computer-aided design:
By reinforcing visual manipulation and graphic production, computer imaging further detaches architecture from its multi-sensory essence; as design tools, computers can encourage mere visual manipulation and make us neglect our powers of empathy and imagination. We become voyeurs obsessed with visuality, blind not only to architecture’s social reality but also to its functional, economic, and technological realities [5].
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Instead of a reductive, visual understanding of architecture, Pallasmaa advocates a turn toward haptic experience, which is grounded in a gradual comprehension of architecture, detail by detail, because it affects all the senses and the body as a whole. This mode of experience requires empathy and patience but is crucial because it offers nearness and affection rather than distance and control.
Moreover, instead of attending to a one-dimensional, image-based approach to architecture, Pallasmaa suggests attention to “peripheral vision,” which goes beyond the object to perceive it contextually. As he explains, “focused vision makes us mere observers; peripheral perception transforms retinal images into spatial and bodily experience, encouraging participation” [6].
Drawing on Gianni Vattimo’s ideas of “weak ontology” and “fragile thought,” Pallasmaa prescribes, as a counter to today’s visually-dominant architecture, what he calls a “fragile architecture”—i.e., an architecture of the “fragile image,” which is “contextual, multi-sensory, and responsive, concerned with experiential interaction and sensual accommodation. This architecture grows gradually, scene by scene, rather than quickly manifesting a simple, domineering concept” [7].
In a similar way, Pallasmaa proposes a “weak urbanism” that might counter the dominant approach to town and urban planning grounded in precisely organized strategies and strong urban forms that dominate the city visually. In some ways, his alternative is similar to medieval townscapes that arose organically without consciously-directed principles or designs. Pallasmaa emphasizes that this kind of “weak urbanism” is mostly haptic rather than ocular: “The eye reinforces strong strategies, whereas weak principles of urbanity give rise to the haptic townscape of intimacy and participation” [8].
Drawing on his idea of a “fragile architecture,” I call Pallasmaa’s way of architectural understanding a “fragile phenomenology.” In this sense, one can say that fragile phenomenology tends to be contextual and multi-sensory. It emphasizes experiential interactions and sensuous accommodations that grow gradually, sense by sense. Fragile phenomenology surpasses the hegemony of vision, enriches the presence of the body, pays attention to lived experience, and replaces one-dimensional vision by multi-sensory perception.
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But when considering Pallasmaa’s interpretations of architectural works based on his “fragile phenomenology,” one notes that they generally suffer from two weaknesses, the first of which is rooted in his excessive concentration on “nearness,” staying mostly “within” and presenting “close ups” in experiencing a work of architecture. This “near” attention neglects considering a work of architecture in macro-level—in other words, in its relationship and linkage to the larger-scale surroundings and region. One can draw on architectural phenomenologist Christian Norberg-Schulz’s terminology and say that the fragile phenomenology of Pallasmaa does not consider the genius loci of the work; it immediately enters the realm of the building and its immediate surroundings, interpreting only the building in detail [9].
A second weakness of Pallasmaa’s fragile phenomenology is that, in many of his design investigations, the interpretations sometimes seem episodic and disjointed rather than in-depth and continuous. Most of his analyses are partial selections through which he highlights some particular aspect of architectural experience.
One example is in the second part of Eyes of the Skin where he discusses the importance and presence of the senses separately to show how human perception is fundamentally fulfilled not merely through the eyes but through all the senses. Pallasmaa divides his discussion into each sense separately, offering evidence to prove the importance of the sense in question.
In providing concrete examples, he claims that the architecture of Le Corbusier and Richard Meyer “clearly favour sight, either as a frontal encounter, or the kinesthetic eye of the promenade architecturale” [10]. He argues that the architecture of Erich Mandelsohn and Hans Scharoun emphasizes muscular and haptic plasticity because these architects suppress the ocular perspectival dominance. He claims that Frank Gehry’s buildings evoke kinesthetic and haptic sensations and that Frank Lloyd Wright’s architecture “is based on a full recognition of the embodied human condition and of the multitude of instinctual reactions hidden in the human unconscious” [11]. He contends that Alvar Aalto’s architecture involves a deep muscular and haptic sensation:
Aalto’s architecture incorporates dislocations, skew confrontations, irregularities and poly-rhythms in order to arouse these bodily, muscular and haptic experiences. His elaborate surface textures and details, crafted for the hand, invite the sense of touch and create an atmosphere of intimacy and warmth. Instead of the disembodied Cartesian idealism of the architecture of the eye, Aalto’s architecture is based on sensory realism; his buildings are not based on a single dominant concept or Gestalt; they are sensory agglomerations” [12].
For all the architects that he refers to here, Pallasmaa presents broad claims but never gives detailed evidence to make his claims convincing. What is absent is a “multi-sensory” interpretation of a given work. Instead, what is introduced is mostly selective, one-sense-focused interpretations of different buildings and architects rather than a multi-sensory interpretation of “one” work.
This style of presenting evidence leads to an incomplete understanding of a building’s comprehensive architectural experience. In other words, Palassmaa does not demonstrate how a work of architecture affects all the senses, or how we can perceive a work of architecture in a multi-sensory way. One might say that his interpretations provide a partial set of phenomenological concerns rather than a comprehensive phenomenological reading of particular buildings or places. Obviously, this comprehensive way of interpretation stands against his “fragile phenomenology,” by which he intends to provide a multi-sensory, multi-dimensional, and gradual comprehension of architecture.
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To illustrate the weaknesses of Pallasmaa’s “fragile phenomenology,” I review one of his most prominent interpretations—his book-length discussion of Alvar Aalto’s Villa Mairea [13]. I examine how he applies his “fragile phenomenology” in interpreting this building and how the result illustrates the shortcomings highlighted above.
Pallasmaa begins his interpretation of the Villa Mairea broadly. He considers the house as an example of the ideal relationship between the architect and the client—in this case, wealthy Maire Gullichsen, who requested that Aalto make something Finnish but in a contemporary spirit [14]. Pallasmaa explains that Aalto had considerable freedom in the design process, discussing every detail with the client and changing some aspects of the house’s design as construction proceeded.
Pallasmaa claims that, although Aalto was a functionalist in the 1920s, his design philosophy gradually changed so that, by 1935, he condemned functionalist rationalism. Aalto came to believe that “rational” design suffered from a noticeable lack of human qualities. As he explained in 1940,
[I]t is not the rationalization itself that was wrong in the first and now past period of modern architecture. The wrongness lies in the fact that the rationalization has not gone deep enough. Instead of fighting rational mentality, the newest phase of modern architecture tries to project rational methods from the technical field out to human and psychological fields…. Technical functionalism is correct only if enlarged to cover even the psychophysical field. That is the only way to humanize architecture [15].
Pallasmaa interprets the Villa Mairea as a model of Aalto’s changing ideas: “The design and execution of the Mairea take place in the middle of this essential change in Aalto’s philosophical stance” [16]. Pallasmaa points to resemblances between Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater and Aalto’s Villa Mairea that probably resulted from parallel intentions. Both houses have a horizontal configuration in which the low, main spaces flow toward the outdoors and make a fusion of architecture, landscape, and nature. In both houses, too, the focal point of the living areas is the hearth, which projects a primordial sense of protection and homeliness. Pallasmaa explains that “The two houses arouse strong tactile and motoric experiences, and both exhibit a wide spectrum of atmospheres ranging from archaic heaviness and rusticity to extreme elegance and lightness” [17].
Another characteristic of the Villa Mairea that Pallasmaa draws attention to is the independence and separation of its two floors. The ground floor encompasses the living spaces; and the first floor, the sleeping area. While the living spaces are open to the courtyard, the bedrooms have little contact with it; for example, the guest room and corridor have not been provided with even a glimpse of the courtyard. Pallasmaa writes:
Even the opening of the main staircase on the second floor, which is the main mediator between the two levels, has been subtly closed by a floor slab to diminish the visual impact of the vertical connection. Consequently, there is a feeling of privacy and secrecy, and the stairs appear to slide downwards in opposition to the normal reading of a rising staircase [18].
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Having introduced the Villa Mairea, Pallasmaa begins his phenomenological reading, based on his concept of sensory architecture. He states that the house exemplifies the strategy of a “fragile architecture” grounded in “an additive and episodic ensemble that grows detail by detail from below”—not an all-powering, ideal abstract structure dictated from above. He contends that Aalto “was not a Cartesian idealist, but a Bergsonian sensory realist. He aims at a perceptual impact from the real vantage point of the viewer instead of intellectual formal considerations” [19].
Further, Pallasmaa claims that the Villa Mairea reflects not a retinal architecture but a tactile architecture evoking all the senses and needing to be experienced through the body’s moving through the house’s spaces. This interpretation derives from a verb-like notion of space grounded in motive experience—not a noun-like notion grounded in stasis and constancy. In this regard, Pallasmaa equates the experience of the Villa Mariea with a forest walk in which we confront numerous stimuli and details that are integrated into the embodied perception of moving through space: “There is no given centre point; the perceiver himself is the moving centre of his experience, and the situations unfold as an unbroken flow of observations” [20].
Pallasmaa also argues that Aalto considered both biological analogies and psychological dimensions in his designs; thus, the emotional impact of his architecture is rooted in sensuous, archaic images of shelter, protection, comfort, togetherness, and familiarity. He claims that, in the Villa Mairea, two contrasting aspects of Finnish dwelling are presented: Direct summer connection with the outdoors as illustrated most dramatically by the courtyard; and a sheltering winter face illustrated by interior furnishings that emphasize warmth.
Pallasmaa also contends that Aalto uses a collage technique by which images of continental modernity fuse with a timeless, vernacular tradition. The result, he claims, is a brilliant fusion of oppositions: modernity vs. tradition, avant-garde vs. primordial. Pallasmaa’s evidence, expressed in collage-like fashion, is architectural details presented without order or sequence. One example is his discussion of the house’s sauna terrace, which juxtaposes modernist steel and concrete construction with rustic wood structures. The house is thus “archaic and modern, rustic and elegant, regional and universal at the same time. It refers simultaneously to the past and the future; it is abundant in its imagery and, consequently, provides ample soil for individual psychic attachment” [21]. The result, Pallasmaa argues, is that the Villa Mairea relates to the deepest existential dimensions of life and evokes a powerful architectural lived space:
The building is thoroughly integrated and, regardless of numerous surprises and incongruities, the whole is firmly held together by a consistent atmosphere. The whole is reflected in its parts: the folded mass of the studio and the twisted entrance anticipate the freely rhythmic flow of interior spaces. The flue of the fireplace behind the end wall of the dining room unexpectedly cuts diagonally across the roof to a chimney concealed in the wall of the service wing; it incorporates the stairs and creates a diagonal cut in the interior wall which is further echoed in the slight slant of the ceiling of the dining room [22].
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The examples I have presented here illustrate how Pallasmaa interprets the Villa Mairea in terms of a fragile phenomenology. On one hand, this interpretation remains collage-like, episodic, and partial, so that it is difficult to draw a clear, comprehensive understanding of the building. Rather, the perceiver appears to be a bird-like seer who flies over and through the building, focusing his or her interpretation on special parts and places of the house that appear interesting or surprising. Although Pallasmaa considers the Villa Mairea a collage-like building, its episodic character does not necessarily require an episodic reading. If, as Pallasmaa suggests, a fragile phenomenology should develop gradually, step by step, the concern is that his way of interpreting the house is more arbitrary and piecemeal than comprehensively considered and holistic.
On the other hand, Pallasmaa’s “near” reading of the Villa Mairea invokes a “phenomenology from within.” We gain a close, in-depth phenomenological understanding of the house, though its relation and linkage to site and surroundings are largely neglected. In Pallsamaa’s interpretation of Villa Mairea, the way this building is related to its environment remains disregarded. We only see the house in “close up” apart from any wider-ranging genius loci.
To be sure, Pallasmaa’s contribution to phenomenological discourse is immensely important. By means of his fragile phenomenology, we may discover hidden, not-yet-considered aspects of architecture. He offers a way to develop a deep, multi-sensory, and lived experience of architecture. In pointing out weaknesses of his fragile phenomenology, I certainly do not wish to imply that his work is a failure. Rather, I suggest that, by identifying and discussing these concerns, the method of fragile phenomenology might be strengthened and extended with the result that our understanding of architecture and architectural experience might be made more penetrating and comprehensive.
Endnotes
1. J. Pallasmaa, The Geometry of Feeling:
A Look at the Phenomenology of Architecture, in K. Nesbitt, ed.,
Theorizing A New Agenda For Architecture: An Anthology of
Architectural Theory 1965—1995 (NY: Princeton Architectural Press,
1996), p. 450. Perhaps the single best introduction to Pallasmaa’s
phenomenological writings on architecture is J. Pallasmaa,
Encounters: Architectural Esssays, P. MacKeith, ed. (Helsinki:
Rakennustieto Oy, 2005). I would like to thank David Seamon for his
help in editing this essay and for his thoughtful remarks and
comments.
2. J. Pallasmaa, The Eyes Of The Skin: Architecture and the Senses (London: Academy Editions, 1996), p. 28.
3. In fact, Pallasmaa, has written on the relation between architecture and film; see J. Pallasmaa, The Architecture of Image: Existential Space in Cinema (Helsinki: Rakennustieto Oy, 2001).
4. J. Pallasmaa, Stairways of the Mind, in Encounters, p. 60.
5. J. Pallasmaa, Towards an Architecture of Humility, in Encounters, p. 193.
6. Ibid., p. 194.
7. Ibid., p. 195.
8. J. Pallasmaa, Hapticity and Time, in Encounters, p. 328.
9. C. Norberg-Schulz, Genius Loci: Towards a Phenomenology of Architecture (NY: Rizzoli, 1980).
10. J. Pallasmaa, Eyes of the Skin, p. 49.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid.
13. J. Pallasmaa, Image and Meaning, in J. Pallasmaa, ed., Alvar Aalto: Villa Mairea (Helsinki: Alvar Aalto Foundation, 1998), pp. 70-125.
14. Ibid., p. 70.
15. A. Aalto, Humanizing Architecture, Sketches, pp. 77-78 [1940]; cited in J. Pallasmaa, J., ed. Alvar Aalto: Villa Mairea, p. 75.
16. J. Pallasmaa, Image and Meaning, p. 75.
17. Ibid., p. 80.
18. Ibid., p. 85.
19. Ibid., p. 86.
20. Ibid., p. 90.
21. J. Pallasmaa, Identity, Intimacy and Domicile: Notes on the Phenomenology of Home [originally 1992], available at: http://www2.uiah.fi/opintoasiat/history2/pallas.htm [accessed 15 December 2008].
22. J. Pallasmaa, Image and Meaning, p. 98.