Who is the public?
Pedersgata is a street running east from Stavanger’s city centre towards the shore line. A narrow foot-path leads past an array of restaurants — Japanese, Turkish, and Thai — bars and shops before transitioning to a quieter residential area. As I approach Pedersgata from the west, I am met by a large construction site, the debris of the controversial demolition of the former police station. The skeletal structures, peeled back asphalt and grind of machinery are a physical manifestation of a neighbourhood in transition. I was in Stavanger for a writing residency, during which I led a workshop titled Who is the public?. The workshop was co-hosted by CAS and NEB-STAR and took place as part of the Nordic Edge Expo. The question: Who is the public? was prompted by writing I had done in the lead up to the residency, as well as my own persisting questions around participatory design processes and the future of architectural practice.
The writing in question was the text Building a Better World: Function, Malfunction and Unruly Bodies published by CAS. In it, I reflect on the New European Bauhaus, an ambitious funding plan for large-scale multidisciplinary projects working towards climate neutrality. Launched in 2020 by the European Commission, the plan promotes the unification of “sustainability, accessibility and aesthetics”. I challenge the adoption of the Bauhaus as a model for sustainable and inclusive design and building practices, and critically examine how the school, in its promotion of functionalism, excluded and made invisible unruly bodies. Unruly bodies are those that don’t fit in or misbehave, that are unconsidered, unnoticed, or deemed ‘problematic’ by building producers or occupiers.[1] I therefore propose reframing malfunction as a starting point rather than a limitation, one that reveals and challenges normativity embedded in design and architecture. By attempting to design spaces for ‘everyone’ — a faceless ‘public’ — we repeat and reinforce exclusionary social, spatial and material practices.
This leads me to my second prompt, feelings of frustration around participatory design processes. As Stavanger has been chosen as one of a select few pilot cities for the New European Bauhaus, this plan is being tested in the city by the project NEB-STAR between 2022-2025. One of NEB-STAR’s sites is Pedersgata and there they aim to engage residents in shaping the future of the neighbourhood. This aim reflects a broader desire in current city planning and building practices to include ‘the public’ in these processes. However, who this ‘public’ is and how to create meaningful collaborative methods needs to be interrogated. Too often these activities become a check-box for public design projects, lacking the resources (time, budget, desire etc.) needed. This continued contradiction between language, methods and outcomes risks the fatigue and disempowerment of the local individuals and communities who engage in these processes.
Finally, the third motivation: In my practice as an interior architect and artist I am concerned with revealing inequalities that exist in space and space-making, as well as offering alternative tools and methods. Searching for references, I have come across an array of critical spatial practices that empower the individuals and communities they work with. Critical spatial practices, as defined by Jane Rendell, describe projects located between art and architecture, that both critique the sites into which they intervene as well as the disciplinary procedures through which they operate.[2] They rethink what constitutes an architectural practice. Keeping the question in mind — Who is the public? — I will expand on methodologies employed by current critical spatial practices that are feminist, queer, crip and/or collaborative.[3] These methods, sometimes used in parallel, include critical fiction, maintenance and repair, and starting from difference.
Critical fiction
The first method I will examine is critical fiction, the mingling of critique and imagination. Imagining new worlds into being is a project common to both architects and fiction writers. Naomi Stead and Hélène Frichot outline this affinity in Writing Architectures: Ficto-critical approaches stating, “every architectural proposition is a kind of speculative fiction before it becomes a built fact, just as every written fiction relies on a setting, the construction of a coherent milieu in which a story can take place”.[4,5] Naomi and Hélène introduce the method and concept ficto-criticism, which fuses genres of essay, critique and story-telling. By combining the techniques of critical theory and fiction, ficto-criticism aims to challenge assumptions about our contemporary social and political realities. When applied to writing in and of architecture, this method, they argue, holds emancipatory potential to disrupt habitual ways of seeing, acting and building.
The Swedish art and architecture collective MYCKET use world-building processes in their practice. MYCKET, initiated in 2012 by Mariana Alves Silva, Katarina Bonnevier, and Thérèse Kristiansson, works from intersecting perspectives, positions, and experiences — queer, feminist, class, anti-racist, more-than-human. Critical fiction is a method they employ across a range of projects: from permanent public spaces, to theater, exhibitions, text production and educational activities.[6] A clear example is their project Exclude Me In, a collaboration with Maja Gunn and The New Beauty Council for Gothenburg’s International Art Biennial in 2013. Exclude Me In was a carnival derived from Göteborgskarnevalen, the Carnival of Gothenburg (1982-93). Describing the project, MYCKET notes that the absence of homosexual life and desire in archival material of Göteborgskarnevalen reflects the homophobia, transphobia and racism present during this period. Exclude Me In reconstructed the carnival as one that highlights the city’s queer nightclubs, identified through mapping from the 1980s to present-day, and in turn the queer communities surrounding them. The recreated carnival was a raucous celebration made up of samba bands, floats and over 200 carnival goers toting banners, costumes and masks representing queer locations.[7] Feminist geographer Doreen Massey notes that single-sided narratives and processes act as spatial closures. Therefore imagining and narrating space as open is imperative in order to make relationships that are not exclusive or reductive.[8] Exclude Me In does exactly this. The reconstruction was not a repetition of history, but a narrative retold through imagination, a temporary collective performance and opening of the street.
A more recent public space project, Utsikten, by MYCKET applies both critical fiction and their collaborative method DIG. Instead of DIY, DIG stands for “doing in group” and describes a process in which everyone’s contributions remain visible in the details and as part of the finished whole. No one knows how it is going to turn out and it is only by doing that this takes shape. Utsikten is the name of the back garden of ArkDes, the Swedish Centre for Architecture and Design, which is located on the island Skeppsholmen in Stockholm. Throughout 2024 Utsikten will be shaped by MYCKET through a process of making and playing at the museum. The project aspires to create a place “not just for young humans, grown-ups, animals, insects, and more — but with them, too”.[9] When studying a geological map of the site, MYCKET saw what looked like a sleeping troll’s ear. Helping the troll by building an ear that emerges out of the ground, over many spring gatherings MYCKET and young people from a local school have begun building and taking care of a surrounding enchanted garden. The materials used have been sourced either from the museum’s ongoing renovation project or elsewhere on the island — scraps, branches, soil, clay, climbing plants and more. Utsikten combines play and learning with the potential of imagination to open other possible futures. It is part of a wider research interest of the collective exploring our relationship to nature, and new ways of living and designing together in the future. The project illustrates that a completely open frame with unlimited potential isn’t needed in order to collaborate meaningfully. Rather a clear definition of the project, site, group of participants, communication of roles, constraints, and goals by the involved actors opens space for co-creation.
Maintenance and repair
The next method I would like to explore is maintenance and repair. One of the primary functions of architecture is to provide support for everyday life. How we support architecture however, through maintenance and repair, is rarely prioritised or made visible. This is instead delegated to hidden machine rooms, janitor closets and out of hours cleaning work. Equally, as I touch upon in the introduction, not all bodies are cared for equally in our built environment. Elke Krasny, in her call to reframe architecture as care work, talks about how this repositioning requires architecture to be conceived as a built space for action, as a long term and permanent support system.[10] This, she argues, can contribute to changes that enact social and environmental justice, challenging dominating systems of labour exploitation and resource extractivism.
Methods of maintenance and repair can be seen in the practice of the Oslo-based collective Søstra100 run by Mira Hahn and Stina Molander Skavlan since 2020. Søstra100 work with artistic, architectural and often collaborative projects. Their video ta vare på (take care of), shown as part of the exhibition Hånd og Maskin at Nasjonalmuseet in Oslo, discusses what is needed for us to take care of the houses that are otherwise demolished. A critical fiction in itself, the film follows the lives of two houses in the city — protesting the right to live, inheriting building elements, keeping fit and eating ice cream. Scenes are cut together with interviews with local architects, and building managers, engaged in climate activism and building maintenance.[11] Within the installation, and hosting the video, were three “omsorgsbua” (care arches). Each has their own name and identity (Fika, Guri and Amboi) and are traveling elements shaped by and used to support various events. One such event was the “Reparasjonfestival” (repair festival) held together with the citizens’ initiative Byverksted and in collaboration with local partners in Stavanger in June 2023. The festival aimed to draw attention to social and physical repair of the city, and the program included repair cafes, joint dinners, workshops and more. Participants were invited to discuss bottom-up urban development, with repair as the key word.[12] By giving the houses and “omsorgsbua” their own identities, Søstra100 gives agency to these structures, reminding us of our reciprocal relationship with the world around us.
Maintenance and repair are also core methods of the Brazilian initiative Concreto Rosa. Concreto Rosa, founded in 2015 by Geisa Garibaldi, undertakes renovations, construction and repairs, as well as promoting solidarity networks and supporting political activism for intersectional feminism and LGBTQ+ rights in Brazil. The team is made up of mainly Black women trained in architecture, civil engineering, electrical engineering, hydraulics and masonry.[13] Making space for women to establish careers in a male-dominated industry, Concreto Rosa undertakes projects for women of varying social-economic backgrounds. Their practice, which I would argue is an architectural one, brings to mind the concept of Non-Extractive Architecture. As defined by architect, critic and curator Joseph Grima, Non-Extractive Architecture is “an approach to the designed environment that takes complete responsibility for itself, and whose viability does not depend on the creation of externalities elsewhere — whether that “elsewhere” is removed in time or space”.[14] In this definition architecture is understood as a practice of guardianship rather than depletion and the architect concerned with integration, circularity, material research, and community building rather than form.[15] Both Søstra 100 and Concreto Rosa reflect this larger movement of architectural students, practitioners, and theorists challenging the need to build new buildings, instead turning to methods of reuse, maintenance and repair.
In this definition architecture is understood as a practice of guardianship rather than depletion.
Starting from difference
Finally, I would like to return to a method touched upon in part I of Building a Better World. Starting from difference describes a process which when applied to architectural projects is informed by other ways of being in or experiencing space. In Disability studies, neurodivergence and architecture Jos Boys distinguishes between architectural design projects that meet the “special needs” of neurodivergent people, and others that start from difference as a creative generator, and still others that aim for a future in which starting from neurodivergence enables alternative ways of thinking and doing architecture.[16] My proposition of reframing malfunction as a starting point is inspired by this approach, which is fundamental to The DisOrdinary Architecture Project[17] and numerous other critical spatial practices.
Dis is a disability-led research collective co-founded by Jordan Whitewood-Neal and James Zatka-Haas in London in 2022. Advocating for the value of disabled experience within space and culture, Dis collective uses storytelling and alternative design methodologies to work against the increasing isolation and atomisation of disabled people in art and architecture.[18] Dis describes their practice as one based on taking positions of opposition, whereby they learn to use opposition as a tool for agency and a way to position themselves and others not as opposite of normal but decentred in opposition to it.[19] Engaged in processes of cripping architectural pedagogy, Dis co-led the Design Think Tank “Retrofit as Reparation” at the London School of Architecture in 2022. One aim of this course was to explore new understandings of the terms and methods “retrofit” and “reparation”. These were rethought in the context of making cultural and civic spaces accessible and inclusive, going beyond meeting minimum standards to become an expansive reparative agenda. Focusing on the Arcola Theatre in Dalston, students reimagined how practices of retrofitting and reuse could not only be responsive to disability but to play a part in its methodology.[20] The course positions the act of reparation as a social practice, building upon the research of Shannon Mattern, who argues the way a city is maintained can be a way of giving back to local communities at risk. Maintenance, repair and retrofit are again seen as processes encouraging both environmental and social sustainability.
Dis combines taking positions of opposition, and storytelling in their immersive video installation “Night Falling”. The video, made in collaboration with sound designer Javaid Haujee, is part of the currently running exhibition “Design for all? Diversity as the Norm”, at Museum für Gestaltung Zürich. Researching the night through crip and disabled experiences, the video moves between nocturnal spaces, such as the hospital and the street, and between sensations, such as pleasure and fear. Combined with a collection of interviews with disabled and neurodivergent design practitioners in the UK, “Night Falling” contemplates possible futures of the night. Through “Night Falling” and their practice as a whole Dis positions themselves as facilitators of knowledge, rather than sensors, a collective that not only represents voices but disposes their power.[21] By starting from difference, or taking positions of opposition, disability-led practices challenge established hierarchies and point to new and exciting modes of practice based on empowerment.
Openings
At the end of the workshop Who is the public? I was handed a flyer with “FOLKEGATA!” printed in grass green ink at the top of a light, textured, pale gray piece of paper. Folkegata is a six month collaborative initiative that aims to strengthen a neighbourhood in transition through artistic, creative and critical engagement. The project’s initiators, Rogaland kunstsenter (RKS) and Byverksted, are both located in the neighbourhood surrounding Pedersgata. Rogaland kunstsenter has opened their cafe, library and project room to host social gatherings, discussions, artist talks and exhibitions. Here space is created for community building, critical reflections on the future of the neighbourhood and the institution, citizen-led initiatives and bottom-up development work.[22] The flyer is a rallying cry for civic engagement, a reminder that the city is formed by inhabitants who will make their own openings.
My hope is for architectural practices, in an expanded sense, to focus on creating frameworks — solid structures that are flexible enough to be adapted through use. We need supportive and supported spaces designed with intention, care and specificity. Keeping Massey in mind, we need to challenge exclusive and dominant narratives by beginning with malfunction and learning from unruly bodies. Critical fiction, maintenance and repair, and starting from difference are just a few ways in which this can be done. Rethinking what architecture is, the boundaries of the discipline, and what architects do is essential for this transition to take place. What critical spatial practices encourage are methods of finding the openings that space offers in its very nature.
*The above text was commissioned in collaboration with Stavanger municipality’s project NEB-STAR — New European Bahaus Stavanger. CAS and NEB-STAR have entered into a collaboration on a collection of texts that are part of CAS’ ongoing text series “Built Environments”. The series presents different approaches to urban development and different opinions on the design of urban landscapes. CAS has editorial freedom and editorial responsibility in this collaboration.
[1] As defined by Jos Boys in her 2021 talk “Welcoming Unruly Bodies” for the symposium Transformations: Actions on Equity presented by the Melbourne School of Design and Parlour. Watch here: https://parlour.org.au/parlour-live/transformations/welcoming-unruly-bodies/
[2] https://criticalspatialpractice.co.uk/
[3] There exists a wealth of practices and resources mapping them including: Jane Rendell’s critical spatial practice website, this map of feminist spatial practices by Bryony Roberts and Abriannah Aiken, and this map of contemporary feminist positions and (spatial) practices by ARCH+
[4] Frichot, F. and Stead, N. (2020) “Waking Ideas from Their Sleep”, in Frichot, F. and Stead, N. (eds.) Writing Architectures, Bloomsbury, London, pp.11-24
[5] My own love of feminist science fiction led me to an exploration of how cities and buildings were constructed in novels that reimagined constructions of gender and sexuality. Authors played the role of urbanist, architect and designer in these novels. See my texts: Rainbow Palace and Out of Place, Out of Time
[6] MYCKET (2017) “Through Our Dance We Weave the Dance Floor and Ceiling”, in Schalk, M., Kristiansson, T. and Mazé, R. (eds.) Feminist Futures of Spatial Practice, AADR, Baunach
[7] https://mycket.org/The-Club-Scene-Act-4-Exclude-Me-In
[8] Massey, D. (2005) “Opening Propositions”, in For Space, Sage, London, referenced in Schalk, M., Kristiansson, T. and Mazé, R. (eds.)(2017) Feminist Futures of Spatial Practice, AADR, Baunach
[9] https://www.e-flux.com/announcements/613790/mycketutsikten/
[10] Krasny, E. (2022) “Maintenance and Visibility”, ARCH+ Contemporary Feminist Spatial Practices, Issue 246 (February), pp.192-196
[11] https://soestra100.no/
[12] https://byverksted.carrd.co/
[13] ARCH+ (2022) “Concreto Rosa”, ARCH+ Contemporary Feminist Spatial Practices, Issue 246 (February), pp.198-199
[14] Grima, J. (2021) “Design without Depletion”, in Space Caviar (ed.) Non-Extractive Architecture Vol. 1, Sternberg Press, London, p.14
[15] https://www.sternberg-press.com/product/non-extractive-architecture-vol-1/
[16] Boys, J. (2022) “Disability studies, neurodivergence and architecture” in Boys, J., Clarke, A. and Gardner, J. (eds.) Developments in Neuroethics and Bioethics Elsevier, London, pp.39-67
[17] Co-founded by Jos Boys and Zoe Partington, referenced in Part I of Building a Better World.
[18] https://www.stirworld.com/reflect-manifestos-architecture-for-a-new-generation-2023
[19] “Cripping Architectural Pedagogy” talk by Dis collective for the series “Thursday Talks” organised by The London School of Architecture
[20] ibid.
[21] ibid.
[22] https://rogalandkunstsenter.no/2024/05/07/folkegata/
Maike Statz (AUS) is a Bergen-based interior architect and artist interested in the relationship between bodies and space. Her practice spans curation, publishing, writing, and design. Through her work she is committed to challenging the inequalities that exist in space and spatial practices. Current areas of interest include situated writing methods, queer and feminist spatial practices, the relationship between emotion, identity and space, and rethinking architecture through speculative fiction.
In 2022 Statz co-founded the project space and platform NOGOODS and the magazine bias: bodies in architecture and structures with Danja Burchard, now run with Francesca Scapinello. Recent design and curatorial projects include Hosting Space (June 2023) at Hordaland Kunstsenter in Bergen and Dissident Publics (May-June 2023) with NOGOODS and Exutoire at ROM for kunst og arkitektur in Oslo. Maike enjoys swimming, feminist science fiction and making furniture.
*The above text was commissioned in collaboration with Stavanger municipality’s project NEBSTAR — New European Bauhaus Stavanger. CAS and NEBSTAR have entered into a collaboration on a collection of texts that are part of CAS’ ongoing text series “Built Environments”. The series presents different approaches to urban development and different opinions on the design of urban landscapes. CAS has editorial freedom and editorial responsibility in this collaboration.