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JESSICA HUMPSTON15382366

SUPERVISOR | ROZE WAEVOLUME ONE | ABOUT DESIGNINTERIOR ARCHITECTURE RESEARCH STUDIO 421 | 313652

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This Research Report contains no material which has been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma in any university.

To the best of my knowledge and belief this Research Report contains no material previously published by any other person except where due acknowledgment has been made.

Signature

Date

Copyright - Jessica Paige Humpston - 2014jess.humpston@gmail.comAll rights reserved. No reproduction without permission.

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School of Built Environment

Department of Architecture and Interior Architecture

Mystery in the Built EnvironmentVolume One

Jessica Paige Humpston

THIS RESEARCH REPORT IS PRESENTED FOR THE DEGREE OFBachelor of Arts (Interior Architecture)

ofCurtin University

June 2014

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Mystery in the Built EnvironmentFigure 1.1 (Author’s Own 2014)

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What is an experience of mystery in the Built Environment?

What is mystery?Do we need mystery?Do we lack mystery in our current environment?How can an experience of mystery be integrated into the Built Environment?

Research Question

Research Objectives

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To mum, dad, Ian, John, Roze, my fellow 225ers and my friends; thanks for all your much needed, and very much appreciated, support.

Acknowledgements

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Mystery is the unknown. Something that implies a question and incites a questioning from each that encounters it. It coerces us to engage with it; stimulating us to imagine a multiplicity of possible answers from the partial information it provides.The current state of our built environments is made up of spaces that offer an immediacy of experience; everything is instant, known and apparent at a glance. These spaces disengage and force the occupant into becoming passive viewers instead of actively engaging with their environment. With our inherent desire for knowledge we instinctively want to know the unknown; I am therefore proposing that through an experience of mystery the occupant is provoked into engaging with their surroundings. This research aims to outline our current need for mystery in our environment, how mystery can act as a catalyst for engagement with space and how it can be implemented into the built environment (Humpston 2014, 1).

Abstract

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GlossaryProject Introduction

1 | Spaces of DisengagementNon-PlacesPhenomenology of DisengagementInstant ArchitectureSynthesis

2 | EngagementCuriosityPhenomenology of EngagementImaginative ProjectionSynthesis

3 | MysteryMystery of the EverydayManifestations of Mystery

Periphery and the Unfocused GazeDepth, Difficulty and the HorizonInteriority and Exteriority of ExperienceFragmentation of Space

Integrating MysterySynthesis

Volume ReflectionWhere to Next?

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Contents

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CuriosityAn inherent desire to know.

DisengagementTo withdraw from interacting with space.

EngagementA meaningful interaction with space.

ImaginationA cognitive process that provides possibilities for what is not present.

Imaginative ProjectionThe transference of imagination to a place not currently inhabited.

Instant ArchitectureSpaces within the built environment that apparent are at a glance and quickly satisfy.

ManifestationThe embodiment of something intangible.

MysterySomething unknown, ungraspable or difficult to understand.

NearnessAn emotional attachment to place.

Non-placeSpaces that are typified by monotonous architecture and lack of character that causes occupants to disengage.

PhenomenologyA theory that explores the nature of lived experience and emotional attachment.

ProvocationA deliberate stimulation of engagement.

Glossary

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Architecture provides our “grounds for perception, […] experiencing and understanding the world” (Pallasmaa 2005, 41). If the capacity for our existential knowledge resides within the built environment, it is therefore imperative that engagement between occupant and space is not only implied but evoked. It is the view of many architectural theorists when describing our current built environment, particularly within the urban context, that they lack this ability to engage the occupant. They are described as “monotonous” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 189), lacking in depth, and their sameness is extensively explored in the theory of ‘Non-place’. Juhani Pallasmaa states that “what is missing from our dwellings today [is] the potential transactions between body, imagination and environment” (2005, 41). What can be understood from this statement is that the pervading ‘Non-places’ in our environment inevitably leads to disengagement between occupant and space.

What is needed from our surrounding environment is the ability to not only physically, but also psychologically encourage engagement; this is achieved through stimulating curiosity and imagination of the occupant. To encourage engagement with space via curiosity and imagination there must be something required to entice us towards it, whether physically or mentally, but there is the need for a certain type of provoking experience that allows for such engagement. I am proposing that this catalyst for provocation comes in the form of an experience of ‘mystery’ resulting in a questioning of the space and experience by the occupant. This need for engagement, engagement itself and provocation through mystery will build the foundation for answering the question of what it means to experience mystery in the built environment?

Project Introduction

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I’ve always been drawn to spaces, music, films or people that don’t reveal all of themselves immediately, if ever. When I was younger I remember a house that looked like it was abandoned and I would always wonder who had lived there, why was it empty, why did they leave, where did they go? Or even now if I see a person waiting at the bus stop in their office clothes with a part of a tattoo emerging from under their shirt I always wonder why? What were they hiding? Or who are they on the weekends? What was it about these experiences that allowed them linger?

It was a restriction of information, knowing that there was more to the story than what was revealed. And it was me ‘filling in the gaps’ with the endless possibilities of what the story could be. These experiences provoked a questioning from me; they were something not immediately understood that required me to actively engage with it in order to answer the questions it asked.

Figure 1.3

Figure 1.2

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“The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer marvel, no longer wonder, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed.” (Einstein as quoted in Trombley 2012, 31)

This description by Albert Einstein about the importance of mystery in our lives was the catalyst for my thesis question; What is an experience of mystery in the built environment? Through exploring and trying to discover what the nature of mystery is, it is clear that there is not a defined knowledge base that relates to it. Information on this topic has had to be sourced from a wide range of sources including art, architecture, philosophy and film. Any mention of an experience of mystery, its synonyms and related terminology – ambiguity, depth, interiority, periphery, blur, fragment, hidden, invisible, unfocused or unfinished has been explored in the effort to try to decipher what an experience of mystery is and what it could potentially mean to the occupant.

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Spaces of Disengagement

Figure 1.4

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Of particular concern for the Interior Architect is the connection between occupant and environment with a focus on the experiential nature of this connection. A theoretical basis that deals with the nature of experience is Phenomenology which, as described by seminal theorist Martin Heidegger, emphasizes “inhabitation and experience over priorities of aesthetics” (Sharr 2007, 38). Phenomenology in general is concerned with the “potential of human experience” (Leach 2005, 78). It calls for an integration of all senses to ignite experience, rather than the “privileging [of] the visual” (Leach 2005, 78). Its aim is to “engage us with architecture” (Leach 2005, 78) and recognizes that this engagement differs from person to person depending on their unique past experiences and memories. Before discussing the nature of engagement and spatial factors that encourage this, spaces that disengage will be explored to illustrate the need for engagement with our surrounding environment. ‘Spaces of Disengagement’ discusses the theories of Non-Place and Phenomenologist views on the pervading “poverty of stimuli” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 190) in our Built Environment. It explores the spatial elements of Non-Place, its effect on the occupant and possibilities for “recovery of place” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 195).

Introduction

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What are spaces that disengage? What do they look like and how do they make us feel? This may be a hard question to answer at first as these spaces of disengagement saturate most Modern cities and are becoming or have become the norm. A theory that explores the characteristics that promote disengagement between occupant and environment is the theory of Non-place. Originally restricted to airports, the characteristics of Non-place have evolved and spread beyond these original transitory spaces into most public places creating disorientating, Non-places that “foster individual anonymity” (Sharma 2009, 131) and “dislocate us from truly meaningful public space” (Sharma 2009, 132). These Non-places have been described as a “tragedy of contemporary civic life” (Sharma 2009, 129) and can be identified by their “homogeneous architecture”, “purified and pacified interiors” (2009, 129) and having a general lack of character or individuality that usually help to orient occupants and engage with their surroundings. The lack of engagement with Non-Place causes people to withdraw, to “plug in and pass through” (Sharma 2009, 131) discouraging connection to our environments and to others, “devaluing” (Sharma 2009, 133) the public realm.

Non-Places

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Once recognized for its “blandness”, Non-place has now become “iconic” (Gregory 2011, 244) and has infiltrated spaces of economic exchange such as the shopping centre and workplace. But what are the specific spatial factors that create a Non-place? The contemporary office space interior in Australia is an example of this ‘iconic’ space. The floor is made up of synthetic carpet tiles which are easy to replace if damaged, effectively eliminating any traces of past use and implying a space “half way between a domestic setting” and “traditional transit non-place” (Gregory 2011, 246). The ceiling, similar to the floor. is made up of “identical replicating units” (Gregory 2011, 247) that conceal the air-conditioner that has almost become a prerequisite for recognizing Non-place. The air-conditioner keeps the interior at a constant temperature, disconnecting the occupant from the exterior environment, leading to feelings of “isolation” (Gregory 2011, 247). The internal moveable partitions walls can be

viewed as a lack of permanence of the worker’s position and status within the office. The exterior glass curtain walls reduce the ability for staff to personalize their space and allow for a constant “indistinguishable” noise to circulate the office produced by “interpersonal” communication (Gregory 2011, 248). The inoperable windows in the Non-place office are a “cruel reference of the exterior” (Gregory 2011, 248), visually linking the user to the exterior but ultimately denying it. Sarah Sharma in ‘Baring Life and Lifestyle in the Non-Place’ concluded that the pervasiveness of Non-place is the response to our “increasing fear of the post-modern city”, that of a “crime ridden, economically insecure” space that is “open to migration and the mixing of cultures” (2009, 132). Non-place in its “sameness” and lack of culture offers those in ‘fear’ a “diversity without tension” (Sharma 2009, 133) a space where everything is known, ‘safe’, predictable and without possibilities (Humpston 2014).

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Phenomenology of DisengagementConsidering spaces of disengagement, or Non-Places from a Phenomenological position is seminal architectural and phenomenological theorist Christian Norberg-Schulz. In his book, Genius Loci: Towards a Phenomenology of Architecture, Norberg-Schultz describes our present day environment as being “distinguished by monotony” (1980, 189) with most modern buildings “exist[ing] in a nowhere” (1980, 190). Relating this ‘nowhere’ spatially to buildings being placed “freely” with no sense of enclosure, feeling of density (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 189) leading to cities that lack “true urban insides” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 189). The idea of ‘wholeness’, or ‘imageability’, defined as a “legibility, visibility or grasp upon surroundings” (Lynch 1960, 10), in these spaces is generally present only from an aerial view, not from the experiential view of the occupant. This does not usually bring with it a “sense of place” for the occupant as “urban walls” have been “opened up” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 189) and its coherence and ‘character’ damaged through it not being able to be read as a ‘whole’. The pervasive use of curtain walls in these newer buildings have an “unsubstantial” or “lack of character” that often implies a “poverty of stimuli” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 190), offering little to no opportunity for “surprises and discoveries” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 190) in most modern environments. This ‘poverty of stimuli’ is in stark contrast to the experiencing of an “old town” that is full of “possibilities for identification” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 189) and surprise. The paradox of this pervasive ‘non-space’ is that it is a product of the architects’ intentions to better our living conditions as a reaction to the “inhuman conditions” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 190) of European cities of the Industrial age. These spaces designed to ‘better’ our living conditions has, however, disengaged us from our surrounding spaces (Humpston 2014).

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Figure 1.5 - 1.54 Left to Right

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How then can we rectify this loss of place, or Non-place that dominates our built environment? Although Modernist architecture can largely be held accountable for the loss of place in our current built environment, there are architects of the Modern movement that we can look to for guidelines on the “recovery of place” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 195). Evolving from the transparency and immediacy of Modernist forms and materiality are specific works from architects Louis Khan and Le Corbusier whose thought processes and development in design have helped give buildings and places back their “individuality” in terms of “space and character” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 195). In designing Chapelle Notre-Dame-du-Haut in Ronchamp, Le Corbusier set out with the intention to create “a vessel of intense concentration and meditation” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 197), thereby imbuing it with the ability for occupants to engage with the finished building through his original intention. The slim columns of his earlier buildings proceeded to become “massive and powerful” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 196), and the “unsubstantial” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 190) curtain-wall skins were replaced by a brise-soleil or sun shade creating a sculptural and characteristic element to the building (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 196). Louis Kahn approached his projects by asking “what does this building want to be?” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 197) thereby immediately giving it a sense of individuality and link to its context. He also started

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to ‘include’ in his buildings again, instead of ‘excluding’ which had been an integral guideline to the Modernist theory. He achieved this by using contrasting elements, “open and closed spaces” instead of only open, “symmetry and asymmetry” instead of just symmetry and also defining the “wall” as the “threshold between interior and exterior” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 198). Concluding his discussion of loss of place, Christian Norberg-Schultz describes his hope that architecture of the future will “free us from abstractions and alienation, and bring us back to things” (1980, 201). This bringing us ‘back to things’ can be understood as a return to environments that encourage engagement with the occupant instead of disengagement that is so often characterized by Modernist architecture. The transparency and immediacy of Modernist forms and materiality leave little room for surprise as it excludes the possibilities as to what might be beyond the glass wall, or around the corner as everything is open, visible and apparent at a glance (Humpston 2014).

Figure 1.7

Figure 1.6

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Instant ArchitectureThe “ocular bias” (Pallasmaa 2005, 30) of architecture, specifically Modernist architecture of our contemporary cities, has suppressed our senses and forced us into “detachment, isolation and exteriority” (Pallasmaa 2005, 19). If “every significant experience of architecture is multi-sensory” (Pallasmaa 2000, 80) and our current contemporary spaces are dominated by the eye (Pallasmaa 2005, 19), then we are stifling our potential for experience within space. As stated by Juhani Pallasmaa, architecture provides our “ground for perception, […] experiencing and understanding the world” (2005, 41); therefore we are limiting ourselves, society at large whom live within contemporary cities, by not designing spaces that cater to the senses of the “ear, nose, skin, tongue, skeleton and muscle” (Pallasmaa 2000, 80).

Visual architecture is instantaneous architecture. ‘Instant’ implies an immediacy to the experience, an immediacy that is strengthened through the over stimulation of the visual sense, a “fixated” and “focused vision” (Pallasmaa 2005, 19).

“As a consequence of the power of the eye over the other sensory realms, architecture has turned into an art form of instant visual image.” (Pallasmaa 2000, 80).

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Architecture’s saturating use of the “psychological strategy of advertising and instant persuasion” (Pallasmaa 2005, 30) in design has turned our built environment into “image products detached from existential depth and sincerity” (Pallasmaa 2005, 30) leading to a current ‘depthlessness’ in our spatial experience. When referring to this advertising strategy deployed in the design of current buildings, Frederic Jameson, a theorist and literary critic, describes them as having a “fixation with appearances, surfaces and instant impacts that have no sustaining power over time” (Pallasmaa 2005, 30). Instantaneous architecture is the result of the “loss of opacity and depth, sensory invitation and discovery, mystery and shadow in buildings” (Pallasmaa 2000, 78). It has promoted the feeling of immediacy in our built landscape, a feeling that is “poorly nourished [and] does not profoundly engage us because we are not fully summoned” (Dufrenne 1973, 418). As described by Michel Dufrenne, immediacy is not an “authentic” feeling as it is not one that is “earned” (1973, 418), it is apparent at a glance and provides little in the way of an enduring experience of architecture.

Figure 1.5 - 1.54 Left to Right

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SynthesisThe spaces of Non-place may seem familiar to us because they often typify environments where we spend the majority of our days. We could easily be mistaken in thinking that Non-places can encourage us to engage as it is where we shop, work, study etc. and all these actions can be defined as types of engagement. But this engagement is often a “contractual reciprocity” (Gregory 2011, 244) where occupants are expected, or feel the need to ‘reciprocate’ for their time spent there and are not able to simply experience or just ‘be’ within the space. What can be concluded from this exploration of spaces that disengage is that there is distinction to be made between types of engagement; ones that are meaningful compared to those that are contractual or expected, the ‘automated’ engagement of the workplace or shopping district. Meaningful implies an engagement that is not only physical, but mental also. An enriching experience with place that remains with you, lingers in your mind long after you have left the space. This is not the case in the instant architecture of our current built environment. How can we meaningfully engage when everything is apparent before us and there is nothing to discover or meaningfully engage with?

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Engagement

Figure 2.0

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IntroductionAll architecture has the ability to facilitate engagement with the occupant as it is uniquely designed to be accessible and to be used (Heidingsfelder 2009). Beyond the architecture of “neutral space” that merely facilitates functional interaction to take place within it, there is the potential for a building to be “the space of lived experience” (Leach 2005, 78). As discussed in the previous chapter not all engagement within space is meaningful. Meaningful engagement implies an enriching experience that remains with the occupant long after leaving the space. For an experience to remain with the occupant suggests a psychological engagement with space, one that “prolongs our attention” (Greenberger, Woldman and Yourshaw 1967, 384) to it and subsequently lingers in our thoughts. The catalyst for this type of engagement is an element of the unknown, a mystery that piques our curiosity and stimulates imagination. This chapter titled ‘engagement’ is an exploration into what factors entice us to meaningfully engage with space and sets out the links between mystery, curiosity and imagination.

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A “vital ingredient of the inquiring mind” (Harrison 2001, 266), curiosity is often associated with innocence yet throughout history has also been seen as a vice (Harrison 2001). Not all knowledge was considered to be appropriate knowledge, some was “forbidden” (Harrison 2001, 266) and the inquiring mind was warned against excessive curiosity though allegories including Pandora’s Box and the Genesis narrative of Adam and Eve when knowing too much could be the “subsequent fall of the human race” (Harrison 2001, 267). Even now, we as a Capitalist society could be seen as “stifling” (Loewy 1998, 292) our capacity for curiosity. Our quest for knowledge is restricted towards “predetermined goals” (Loewy 1998, 292) that are deemed “useful” (Loewy 1998, 293), rewarding us with “immediate dividends” (Loewy 1998, 292) instead of encouraging curiosity it for its own sake as a simple enriching experience.

Curiosity is an “inborn trait” (Loewy 1998, 288) that “causes us to investigate” (Loewy 1998, 286) a situation that we cannot immediately understand. What motivates curiosity is a strong desire to know. A desire motivated by different types of stimulus that imply a certain level of unknowing or mystery that can include “incongruity, complexity, blurredness and […] uncertainty” (Greenberger, Woldman and Yourshaw 1967, 376). “Aroused by [the] conflict” (Greenberger, Woldman and Yourshaw 1967, 376) between our desire to know and

Curiosity & Imagination

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what is unknown, a tension arises which is ‘investigated’ in the hopes of dispelling this (Greenberger, Woldman and Yourshaw 1967, 376). Curiosity, tension and the resulting investigation prolong the experience of the unknown and amidst this moment “imagination acts as a prelude to understanding” (Dufrenne 1973, 369). Imagination is a cognitive process that “suggest[s] possibilities” for what is unknown and has the ability to allow us “to envision ourselves in a place, situation or state of being in which we, in fact, are not” (Loewy 1998, 288). Curiosity and imagination are linked in what is not necessarily a linear experience but a process in which there must first be a stimulus, something we “perceive” (Loewy 1998, 286) that entices our curiosity. This stimulus is something that is unknown, a mystery that ignites our imagination with the possibilities of what it could be. While curiosity and imagination are not “defined as emotions” these two actions have the ability to ignite emotions creating experience (Loewy 1998, 288) (Humpston 2014).

Figure 2.1

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Whilst fulfilling functional needs, architecture has the ability to “evoke” (Pallasmaa 2009, 109) memories and past “experiences of the individual” (Pallasmaa 2009, 128). Significant architecture provides the connection between “external space and one’s inner mental space” (Pallasmaa 2009, 19), a psychological or imaginative engagement. Imagination is typically associated with and relegated to creative fields, specifically art, but its importance as the “foundation of our mental existence” (Pallasmaa 2009, 131) in dealing with the stimuli of our surroundings makes it “the most human of all qualities” (Pallasmaa 2009, 17). Imagination is “the liaison between mind and body” (Dufrenne 1973, 345) and our “capacity for imagination” resides not “in our brain alone” (Pallasmaa 2009, 19) but in our entire body (Pallasmaa 2009, 13). It can be stimulated by and emanate through all sensory receptors including the eyes, “ear, nose, skin, tongue, skeleton and muscle” (Pallasmaa 2000, 80).

As discussed in ‘Spaces of Disengagement’ our current built landscape largely consists of Non-places and instantaneous architecture that has little impact on our mental engagement with space. With its endless “flood” (Pallasmaa 2009, 134) of “meaningless” images, this type of architecture doesn’t have any “space left for the imagination” as “everything imaginable is already there” (Pallasmaa 2009, 133). These spaces force us to be “passive” (Pallasmaa 2009, 134) viewers instead of engaging with the world around us. If externalized vision suppresses our capacity for imagination, then it is “interior, active imagery” (Pallasmaa 2009, 134) that unites us with it. This type of internal imagery is accessed when we

Phenomenology of Engagement

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imagine a characters appearance whilst reading a book or when we view something “enigmatic” such as the Roan-ji Garden, Kyoto which is described by Pallasmaa as having a “sense of mystery” and “vagueness” about it (2009, 115). An example of space that encourages imaginative engagement is traditional Japanese Architecture in particular the teahouse. The traditional teahouse is intentionally designed to be “imperfect” and “unfinished for the play of the imagination to complete” with each person’s completion of this space is unique to that individual (Okakura 2003, 54). In Japanese philosophy the term “perfection”, or “true beauty” is something that needs to be “discovered”, and that this occurs by “mentally complet[ing] the incomplete” (Okakura 2003, 70) thereby discouraging immediate satisfaction. Rather than viewing it passively, this mental engagement with space has an “emotive power” (Pallasmaa 2009, 115) as it allows the occupant to use their imagination to answer the questions it has asked (Humpston 2014).

Figure 2.3

Figure 2.2

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Martin Heidegger was a Phenomenological theorist that explored the nature of engagement with particular regard to space and our psychological interaction with it. He stated that “a built thing – like any thing – should be understood through tactile and imaginative experience; not as a detached object” (Heidegger as quoted in Sharr 2007,46). If we imagine that the ‘detached object’ is the current state of our built environment, spaces made up of instant architecture that disengage us, then our ‘imaginative experience’ can facilitate our ‘understanding’ of space generating a meaningful engagement that remains long after the occupant has left the space.

Imaginative Projection“A built thing – like any thing – should be understood through tactile and imaginative experience; not as a detached object.” (Heidegger as quoted in Sharr 2007, 25)

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“One can feel near to something far away, and far to something close at hand” (Heidegger as quoted in Sharr 2007, 25)

Heidegger’s used the term “nearness” (Sharr 2007, 25) to describe emotional attachment to a thing or place. This ‘nearness’ is measured not in mathematical increments but through “experience and emotion” (Sharr 2007, 92). We become nearer to these places through imaginative projection (Sharr 2007, 63) and through the stimulation of our imagination “lost places or places not yet visited might be as immediate as actual tangible locations” (Sharr 2007, 64). But how can we activate our imagination to create the ‘nearness’ required that allows occupants to emotionally engage with a space? The very nature of mystery being an unknown entity that is “difficult or impossible to understand” (Oxford Online Dictionary 2013) immediately prompts our imagination as we instinctively try to understand it. Mystery only gives us only partial information and provokes a questioning from the occupant that imagination provides endless possibilities for.

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Figure 2.4 - 2.5 (Author’s Own 2014)

Nearness | Imaginative projection

Mystery | Questioning | Imagination

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Figure 2.6 (Author’s Own 2014)

Partial information | Unique imaginings

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Imagination is “the most human of all qualities” (Pallasmaa 2009, 17) and “the liaison between mind and body” (Dufrenne 1973, 345). This indicates the importance of igniting imagination when facilitating meaningful engagement with our surrounding environment. Imaginative or psychological engagement connects the “external space” of architecture “and one’s inner mental space” (Pallasmaa 2009, 19) allowing it to affect us deeply. To enable this connection the environment must somehow ‘provoke’ the occupant instead of simply being a “neutral space” (Leach 2005, 78) that provides a functional backdrop for interaction to take place within. Mystery is the catalyst for this provocation that triggers our “inborn trait” (Loewy 1998, 288) of curiosity “to investigate” (Loewy 1998, 286), and our cognitive process of imagination to “suggest possibilities” (Loewy 1998, 288) for unanswered questions or “vagueness” (Pallasmaa 2009, 115) in our surroundings. How these questions are ‘answered’ differs with each individuals encounter with it allowing for a “multiplicity of other viewings” (Dufrenne 1973, 396) depending on the occupants unique imaginings of the mystery. The result of this mystery, curiosity and imaginative process is a “nearness” (Sharr 2007, 25) to space that fosters an emotional engagement between occupant and their environment.

Synthesis

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Mystery

“The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer marvel, no longer wonder, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed.” (Einstein as quoted in Trombley 2012, 31)

Figure 3.0

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IntroductionMystery has been described by Albert Einstein as “the most beautiful experience we can have”, a “fundamental emotion […] stand[ing] at the cradle of true art and true science” (Einstein as quoted in Trombley 2012, 31). Mystery, however, is by definition something “difficult or impossible to understand” (Oxford Dictionary of English 2013) and typically only able to be described by what it is not – a secret, a question, something hidden, an uncertainty or something that is impenetrable and ungraspable. So how can something that is only able to be defined by what it isn’t, also be a ‘beautiful’ experience that incites ‘emotion’ for those who encounter it? Michel Dufrenne in The Phenomenology of Aesthetic Experience describes why we are attracted to something that is “hidden” or “secret” (Dufrenne 1973, 398) from us.

“We are attracted by a deep forest or a lake because it gives us the impression that there is some truth to discover, some secret to abduct from the heart of the object” (Dufrenne 1973, 398)

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Figure 3.2

Figure 3.1

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“Human intelligence is a going forth; whereto, it does not know” (Maleuvre 2011, 7).

It is our innate desire to know that endlessly attracts us towards the unknown. Humankind continually ventures into outer space and explores deep oceans in an effort to ‘discover truth’ or to ‘know’ a mystery. And even if unsuccessful, and with no ‘truth discovered’, the experience is no less captivating or any way diminished. The allure of mystery is not only about something that is withheld from us, it is also dependent on its context. When we stare into the deep, dark water as described by Dufrenne, we imagine what we cannot see, the “strange fauna that lurk on the ocean floor” (1973, 398). But would actually seeing these same “strange creature[s]” in an aquarium, out of context and easily understood, have the same effect as “those who discovered them at the bottom of the ocean” (Dufrenne 1973, 398)?

In Dufrenne’s words, “there is something unswervingly sublime about the hidden” (1973, 399) and that it is valued for its “challenging provocation and the courage necessary for taking up the challenge” (1973, 399). It is precisely the ‘unknown’ of mystery that makes it a ‘beautiful’ experience; the allure of something withheld from us that contains a world of possibilities, differing for each individual that encounters it. From this we can gather that the ‘beautiful and emotional experience’ of mystery is less about the acquisition of the desired ‘truth’ or knowledge and more about the ‘going forth’, the journey towards the unknown.

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Enquiry 1.Photo study | Mystery of the everyday

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Figure 3.3 (Author’s Own 2014)

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Mystery is not always about experiencing something as immense in scale as a deep ocean or witnessing something extraordinary such as a venture into outer space. It can also be found in the everyday, in something small and intimate yet also in some way hard to define.

Mystery of the Everyday

“With lacquerware there is a beauty in that moment between removing the lid and lifting the bowl to the mouth when one gazes at the still, silent liquid in the dark depths of the bowl, its colour hardly differing from the bowl itself. What lies within the darkness on cannot distinguish, but the palm senses gentle movements of the liquid, vapor rises from within forming droplets on the rim, and a fragrance carried upon the vapor brings a delicate anticipation…. A moment of mystery, it might almost be called, a moment of trance.” (Tanizaki 2001, 25)

Junichiro Tanazaki in his book In Praise of Shadows describes this seemingly insignificant moment of lifting the lid from a dark lacquerware bowl and the difficulty in distinguishing its contents from the bowl as a “moment of mystery” (2001, 25).

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Figure 3.4

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It seems like our entire day could potentially be made up of these kinds of moments; and could be anything from seeing an open window on a second floor and wondering who is in the space beyond, picking up a package from the post office without knowing what is within it, or walking into the afternoon sun that momentarily blinds you. But what is it that makes a moment of mystery different from any other moment during the course of our day?

It is the extension of the moment that makes it a mystery, and it is extended through the attention given by us in an effort to satisfy our need to ‘know’ it. The extension of this moment is what makes it an experience and “something in which I participate” (Marcels as quoted in Anderson 2006, 91). This participation and engagement that occurs when we try to decipher a mystery cannot be simply “grasped […] from the outside” (Marcels as quoted in Anderson 2006, 91) as a “key characteristic of a mystery”, as stated by Gabriel Marcels in Mystery of Being, “is that I am within it” (Anderson 2006, 91) something which I experience.

Figure3.6 (Author’s Own 2014)

Figure 3.5 (Author’s Own 2014)

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If mystery is something that we inherently desire to know or understand, then is it crucial for us to be able to solve it? As explored by Marcels when defining the distinction between a mystery and a problem, a problem is something that is objectified, viewed from the outside that can be broken down into its details and solved. A mystery is different, it is something that is to be experienced, not necessarily solved and we “should not attempt to treat it as if [we] were a detached spectator of it” (Marcels as quoted in Anderson 2006, 94). This often ‘unsolvable’ experience that creates a moment of mystery does not certainly need to be a frustrating one, “something which I cannot know and so might as well forget about” (Marcels as quoted in Anderson 2006, 94). Perhaps instead of assessing a mystery as something to be solved, mystery should be recognised as “an essentially positive act of the mind”, something that I am aware of, “the beneficiary of an intuition which I possess without immediately knowing myself to possess it” (Marcels as quoted in Anderson 2006, 94).

Mystery | Extension of experience

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Enquiry 2.Decoding Mystery

Questioning A part of the story missing.

IncongruenceSomething out of place.

DepthA continuance. An extension beyond our view.

ImmensityBeyond our comprehension.

ObscuringA veiling, blurring or fragment hinting at what is beyond.

Figure 3.7 (Author’s Own 2014)

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Figure 3.8 - 3.32 Left to Right

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Enquiry 3.Applying Codes | Perth City

Questioning A part of the story missing.

IncongruenceSomething out of place.

DepthA continuance. An extension beyond our view.

PeripheryAn in-between space

ObscuringA veiling, blurring or fragment hinting at what is beyond.

Figure 3.33 (Author’s Own 2014)

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Figure 3.34 (Author’s Own 2014)

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Peripheral Space and the Unfocused Gaze

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Blurred vision, an interior cloaked in shadows or seen in our peripheral vision dissolving the boundaries of space.

It is the “perceptual realm that we sense beyond the sphere of focused vision” (Pallasmaa 2000, 88) or just past our line of sight that immerses us within a space. An immediate interiority is brought about through experiencing peripheral space, a space ‘just within’, while being simultaneously ‘just beyond’ the reach of our sight. Peripheral and unfocused vision has the ability to “envelop us in the flesh of the world” (Pallasmaa 2005, 10), whereas our current built environment, defined by its focused and frontal vision makes, us feel like “outsiders” due to its “poverty in the field of peripheral vision” (Pallasmaa 2005, 13).

Figure 3.35

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Figure 3.36 Figure 3.37

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This blurring and evocation of peripheral space can be seen in the photography of artist Cy Twombly (See figures 3.36-3.37). His deliberately unfocused images often take an object, interior or landscape to where it is barely able to be distinguished, forcibly engaging the viewer with the image, asking us to guess what it is or where we are. His photographs of flowers initially resemble Twombly’s abstract paintings, a blur of colours and ambiguous forms that only after some time, if ever, are we able to distinguish what they are. Twombly’s interior shots are taken “from a perceptible distance… through half open doors” or “just beyond […] thresholds” (Glover 2008, 11) that entice the viewer to know what is beyond the doorway, yet also repels their gaze. We linger on the images of these in-between spaces “whose division between ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ [is] irrelevant” (Glover 2008, 11) as we are ‘within it’, experiencing the images as it dissolves what are the usually distinct divisions within space.

“Deep shadows and darkness” have the ability to “awaken the imagination” and induce a “trance-like, meditative state” (Pallasmaa 2005, 46). Darkness and shadows can dissolve space, creating ambiguous environments that evoke a sense of the unknown and imbue to architectural space an “inexpressible aura of depth and mystery” (Tanizaki 2001, 24). In Praise of Shadows by Junichiro Tanizaki explores Japanese aesthetics with specific reference to the shadows that are deeply ingrained within their everyday life. Tanazaki’s ancestors were “forced to live” in dark spaces in the past and learnt to appreciate and “discover beauty in the shadows” (2001, 29).

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In contrast to Westerners overuse of light that sharpens architectural space while “paralys[ing] the imagination” (Pallasmaa 2005, 46), shadows within traditional Japanese architecture are described as “deep and spacious” (Tanazaki 2001, 28) that stimulate “imagination and daydreaming” (Pallasmaa 2005, 46) and can conjure up states of “reverie” (Tanizaki 2001, 24) for those experiencing them.

While ‘deep shadows and darkness’ can be used to blur architectural space and deprive the over stimulated eye, light that usually sharpens space can also be used to dissolve boundaries and immerse the occupant within their environment. The installation by Antony Gormley’s entitled ‘Blind Light’ (See figures 3.39-3.40) consists of light streamed through “a luminous glass chamber filled with mist” (Vidler 2007, 36) that occupants enter, losing their sense of vision and orientation leading to a heightening the other senses. The installation creates a “living frieze composed of the figures of the gallery visitors who occupy it’

“Even at midday cavernous darkness spreads over all beneath the roofs edge, making entryways, doors, walls, and pillars all but invisible.” (Tanazaki 2001, 28)

Figure 3.38

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(Vidler 2007, 36) that invites the occupant to experience the interior while it is viewed from the exterior. This “provocative engagement” (Vidler 2007, 36) brings with it a “slightly terrifying [and] uncanny experience” for the occupant “that is no longer an anxiety” in the negative Freudian sense, but “an enriching state” (Vidler 2007, 85) that through its ambiguity invites the occupant to engage with it.

A space that restricts information for one or more of the senses could be mistakenly understood as an impoverished experience for the occupant. This is, however, not the case; by utilizing light, darkness, peripheral or blurred vision that deprive the usually dominant eye, these spaces and images force the occupant or viewer to question and engage with the space or image. This deprivation of the dominant sense of vision and subsequent heightening of others has the ability to not only evoke a sense of mystery but also “envelop us in the flesh of the world” (Pallasmaa 2005, 10), stimulating a deeper engagement with our surrounding space.

Figure 3.40

Figure 3.39

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Enquiry 4.Blurring of space

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Figure 3.41 (Author’s Own 2014)

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Depth, Distance and the Horizon

Figure 3.42

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A distinct distance between you and it, a layering of elements that obscures, a glimpse from a space beyond.

Aside from the physical elements and measureable distance that can manifest a sense of depth, depth is an obstacle of sorts to overcome, something between you and what lies beyond, something to be discovered. This does not necessarily always mean a physical depth, something we could assign dimensions to, “depth is not the farthest but what is the most difficult” (Dufrenne 1973, 399) to attain. To ‘attain’ something implies a certain “courage” (Dufrenne 1973, 399) needed to step beyond the point of what is known and into the unknown. But how does this depth indicate that there is ‘something’ beyond while also withholding enough of itself to remain unknown? What is it that entices us to want to step beyond and into the unknown?

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Michel Dufrenne in The Phenomenology of Aesthetic Experience discusses aesthetic depth in reference to what invites us to venture beyond and unravels where “the depth of the aesthetic object reside[s]” (1973, 411). In creating something that has a sense of depth, that is unattainable, we might be wrong in thinking that this would imply something that is hidden from us. Aesthetic depth is not to be “found in the hidden” (Dufrenne 1973, 408) as something that is completely contained suggests an ultimate “denial” (408) from the viewer or occupant. There must to be a balance between what is revealed and what is not, the object “must not play tricks or put on airs” (Defrenne 1973, 412), it must show its true nature and not conceal. This depth resides in an objects interiority where, as Dufrenne explains, it can seem as if the “object bears a world within itself” (1973, 413). He likens this characteristic to natural objects as they “seem to be endowed with this [quality] from the beginning” (1973, 413). The depth that is found in an object or a spaces interiority must also be “externalized” (Dufrenne 1973, 413) so that its mystery is “illuminated” yet also “difficult to apprehend or comprehend” (Dufrenne 1973, 410).

Figure 3.43

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The quote above speaks of the notion of time in reference to the depth or mystery of an object, and time as the ‘difficulty’ that lengthens the period taken to “comprehend” (Dufrenne 1973, 410). Dufrenne describes the notion of depth as something that seems unattainable and the ultimate unattainable element as being something in the past. We often speak of an object from a time that is not our own as evoking a sense of depth. It has a history to it, which we imagine yet cannot truly ‘know’ which gives it its ‘depth’. But how could we evoke a sense of depth through time without requiring the space or object to have a significant history of its own?

“The aesthetic object must be fully present, and yet is not always so at first.” (Dufrenne 1973, 418)

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Chris Salter’s sensory installation entitled ‘Atmosphere’ (See figures 3.44-3.45) utilizes time and barely perceptible sound, light, heat, scent and haze to achieve an ephemeral sense of depth (Chris Salter 2013). The installation consists of a series of suspended clear acrylic panels with “focused channels of RGB LED’s” (Chris Salter 2013) embedded in the top and bottom that “almost imperceptibly change colour and opacity over time” (Chris Salter 2013). Activated by the occupants encounter with the installation, the change in light, colour, opacity and also heat, haze and scent change so slowly over time that the occupant wouldn’t perceive the change until after it had happened. The experience is just out of reach, perceivable, yet “ungraspable’ due to the barely perceptible change of time.

The unattainable quality that creates depth does not necessarily have to be an entirely intangible element such as the above example of acquiring depth through time. What may be perceived as unattainable for one person

Figure 3.44

Figure 3.45

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may be easily attained or comprehended for another. This can be understood when we consider an example such as the horizon. “A horizon is where the earth meets the sky” (Heidegger as quoted in Sharr, 57), we can identify it and describe what resides there, it can be occupied and it can be where entire cities are located, yet “if you walk towards it, it recedes into the distance” (Sharr, 57). What is perceived to be an ungraspable entity, or mystery for one person when considering the place on the edge of the horizon will be entirely tangible, and not in any way thought to be unknown, for those who reside there. As explained by Adam Sharr in Heidegger For Architects “it is impossible to get to the horizon” (2007, 57) yet for Martin Heidegger, the “elusiveness of such horizons” was a mystery “to be celebrated” (Sharr 2007, 58).

Figure 3.46 (Author’s Own 2014)

Horizon | Receding into distance

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Enquiry 5.Depth through materiality

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Figure 3.47 (Author’s Own 2014)

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Interiorty and External Experience

Figure 3.48

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Unsure whether you are inside or outside, feeling as if you could delve ever deeper within, yet still not being able fully to comprehend it.

When encountering a moment of mystery it can often feel as if we are on the exterior, the outside of knowing. Mystery has a complex interior/exterior relationship that invites us inside yet denies us full access to its unknown interior. Michel Dufrenne in The Phenomenology of Aesthetic Experience spoke of depth as residing in an objects interiority, seeming as if the “object bears a world within itself” (1973, 413). In Genius Loci: Towards a Phenomenology of Architecture, Christian Norberg-Schulz delves into detail about the atmosphere and spatial elements that define Romantic architecture, that of most Central European towns, which he describes as “mysterious” (1980, 69). Romantic architecture is “rich in irrational detail”, has a complex interior/exterior relationship, is complex and contradictory in its form, and is often a space that has grown over time rather than being planned (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 69). He delves into particular detail when describing the Czech Republic city of Prague (See figure 3.49) which he explains is fascinating “through its strong sense of mystery” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 78). He illustrates it as having qualities both “mysterious and frightening, but warm and protective” and that the “unfathomable” spaces have an “endless inside” that encourages the occupant “to penetrate ever deeper” (Norberg-Schulz

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1980, 78). It is possible to walk through sections of the Old Town without using the streets, “internal passageways are surrounded by balconies” creating semi-public transitional spaces (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 85). These “secondary streets” (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 85) create a complex spatial structure that requires a sense of discovery in order to comprehend it. This hidden spatial quality of Prague “does not mean a loss of presence” because in this city “what is hidden seems even more real than what is directly perceived’ (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 85). Prague “always discloses new aspects of itself”, it therefore remains with you and ignites the imagination as to what might be hidden within it (Norberg-Schulz 1980, 85) (Humpston 2014).

To experience a space’s interiority does not necessarily mean that we must venture inside it. The interior can be externally manifested as seen in the work of artist Rachel Whiteread (See figure 3.50). Whiteread sculptural work deals with the “inner life of rooms” (Dennison and Houser, 2001, 21) by creating plaster casts of the houses interior spaces and everyday objects. The aim of Whiteread’s work is to “provoke” (Dennison and Houser, 2001, 82) a response

Figure 3.50

Figure 3.49

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This veiling of an object or building in Christo’s work externalizes our experience of it and implies a denial of its interiority for the occupant or viewer. This denial in turn emphasises its interiority by spurring our imagination to envision endless possibilities for what may be inside. The significant impact of internalization and denial can be seen with the development of Method acting and the viewer’s reaction to it (See figure 3.53 over page). Previous to this more subtle technique, acting was often over dramatized and obvious, all emotion was externalized and instantly recognized by the audience (See figure 3.54 over page). Method

from the viewer by revealing what is usually invisible “beneath the surfaces of everyday life” (Dennison and Houser, 2001, 33) Tension is created for the viewer in her work, as “absence becomes presence” (Dennison and Houser, 2001, 38) and what is usually a void becomes solid, creating an uncanny experience that allows for an undefined, or suspended relationship between the interior and exterior (Humpston 2014).

The work of artist duo Christo also evokes a sense of interiority without the occupant or viewer ever venturing inside the artwork (See figures 3.51-3.52 over page).

“Whether small or almost unimaginably large, these everyday pieces of the world when veiled become unfamiliar, mysterious, magical” (Art Gallery NSW 2012).

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Figure 3.51 Figure 3.52

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Figure 3.54

Figure 3.53

acting would “access and suppress” emotions creating a “pressure cooker” (Cousins 2011) that would emotionally charge the scene. Aside from being more realistic, this internalization of emotion would stimulate the viewer to imagine what the character was feeling and thinking instead of merely viewing it, therefore engaging with the moment on screen (Cousins 2011).

The physical discovery required to comprehend the mystery within Prague’s ‘endless inside’ is replaced by the need for imaginative engagement and thought provocation to access the ‘denied’ interiority of Christo’s and Rachel Whiteread’s works and the internalized emotions of the Method. This denial of interiority does not necessarily imply a negative experience for those who encounter it. When spaces or objects are instantaneous they do not “need [or] require any action on our part, they do not even stir ones curiosity” (Dufrenne 1973, 412). These would be classified as “superficial things”, “thus they possess no interiority” (Dufrenne 1973, 412). To provoke physical and imaginative engagement from the occupant or viewer it almost demands a level of denial of what is to be experienced, since if it was instantaneous and apparent there would be no room left to envision the possibilities.

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Fragmentation of Space

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Witnessing only a fragment of space while imagining what exists beyond its restricted frame.

A fragment is “an isolated or incomplete part” (Oxford Online Dictionary, 2014) of a larger whole. A fragment implies a partial experience that, in order for it to be comprehended, needs to be “explored and filled out, but only in succession [and] never all at once” (Levin 1997, 273). To ‘explore’ a fragment ‘in succession’ suggests a verb or action that is undertaken in order to perceive the complete ‘whole’. As the movement through space, or around the object is undertaken the fragment is never “experienced by itself, but always in relation to […] the sequences of events leading up to it, the memory of past experiences’ (Lynch 1960, 1).

“At every instance there is more than the eye can see, more than the ear can hear, a setting or a view waiting to be explored.” (Lynch 1960, 1).

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The images of photographer Judith Turner capture fragments of architectural space with an ambiguous style that disorientate the viewer as they attempt to identify where within the building the images might originate from (See figure 3.55). Architectural photography prior to Turner was taken from the perspective of “walking round a building at distance” (Turner 2012, 7), a detached approach that gave no sense of what the building might be like to inhabit. Utilising “unconventional viewpoints [the] disorientating changes in scale” and “radical cropping” produce “ambiguous fragments that force the viewer to think” (Turner 2012, 7). This distinct style of photographing buildings by revealing only fragments or details, implies to the viewer that “something [is] happening beyond the frame” (Turner 2012, 7) encouraging us to engage with the image by imagining what that ‘something’ might be (Humpston 2014).

Steven Holl’s Sifang Art Museum in Nanjing, China, (See figures 3.56-3.57) fragments what is normally the open space of a courtyard by placing walls throughout that “confuse a visitor’s sense of perspective” (Sifang Art Museum 2014). The walls within the courtyard were placed on site to recreate the parallel perspective that is characteristic of traditional Chinese landscape paintings. The walls of the courtyard merge into the building and disappear below the

Figure 3.55

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horizon “confounding your idea of where the vanishing point is” (Sifang Art Museum 2014). This “warping [of] the space” evokes a “feeling of mystery about the space” (Sifang Art Museum 2014) by disorientating and slightly confounding the occupant. This fragmentation of an environment where walls purposely block views suggest a space that needs to be discovered sequentially and can never be immediately understood as a whole. The experience of this space for the occupant is lengthened through the exploration required and although the walls block and subtly direct movement through them, each person’s encounter with such a space will be unique as there are so many possibilities for discovery.

Every experiencing of a fragment is influenced by the memory of the previous and the anticipation of the next. This montage of sequential images “grows through separate architectural scenes, episodes, and detail elaborations” (Pallasmaa 2000, 84) creating an episodic architecture. We cannot fully experience space without movement through and interaction with it. Buildings are otherwise “incomplete without this experience of crossing through space,[...] only the criss-crossing of the body through space joins space, body, mind and eye” (Holl 2000, 38).

Figure 3.57

Figure 3.56

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Enquiry 6.Fragmentation of space

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Figure 3.58 (Author’s Own 2014)

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Ambiguity has a “richness of meaning over clarity” (Venturi 1966, 20) and, similar to mystery, has the “quality of being open to more than one interpretation” (Oxford Online Dictionary, 2014). Ambiguity is the result of a “juxtaposition” between “what the image is and what it seems” (Venturi 1966, 20), delivering a “tension” (1966, 16) that heightens the experience of the occupant in their effort to interpret it. Robert Venturi in his book Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture discusses the importance of “ambiguity” over “the articulated” within the built environment as its vagueness ”makes the perception” of the occupant “more vivid” (Venturi 1966, 25). For Venturi, the “validity” of buildings was measured in an architecture that does not “quickly satisfy” (Venturi 1966, 104) suggesting that through the occupants heightened perception when encountering such vagueness, their experience is lengthened and therefore meaningful. The level of restricted information within the built environment that signifies ambiguity or mystery does not necessarily imply an inaccessible experience for those who encounter it. It is in fact this vagueness or lack of information within a space that stimulates the occupant’s curiosity and imagination allowing them to engage with it. This being said, there are however factors to consider when integrating vagueness within architectural space (Humpston 2014).

Integrating Mystery

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‘Imageability’ is a term used to describe an occupants ability to grasp their surroundings and is one of the elements that defines a successful urban environment (Lynch 1960, 10). ‘Imageability’ is achieved when the occupant perceives their environment to be “apparent, legible [and] visible” (Lynch 1960, 10); this however differs from spaces that are “apparent at a glance, obvious, patent or plain” (Lynch 1960, 6). Although arguing that “legibility is crucial” (3) within urban landscapes, Kevin Lynch in The Image of the City also states that there is “value in mystification, labyrinth, or surprise in the environment” (Lynch 1960, 5). Lynch outlines two conditions for integrating ‘mystification’ or mystery into the built environment; firstly that “orientation” and “basic form” must be maintained and secondly that the “surprise” occurs in small areas of the “visible whole” (Lynch 1960, 6). These elements must also provide the ability to be in some way comprehended and “explored” as “complete chaos without a hint of connection is never pleasurable” (Lynch 1960, 6). From this discussion it is clear that there is a balance required between the level of vagueness necessary for a space to be considered mysterious, and the amount of ‘imageability’ needed so that the occupant doesn’t become disoriented. The optimum level for ambiguity and imageability within an environment is hard to define and requires consideration with specific reference to the context in which it is situated and the intended use of the space (Humpston 2014).

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Enquiry 7.Creative piece | Engagement through mystery

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Figure 3.59 (Author’s Own 2014)

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Figure 3.60 (Author’s Own 2014)

Restriction | Tension | Engagement

Concealment | Ultimate denial | Disengagement

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SynthesisDepth, distance, blur, periphery, interiority and fragment; these manifestations of mystery all employ a restriction of sensory information for the occupant that through the discovery of it provokes engagement. These embodiments of mystery all suggest something that is not revealed in its entirety, restricted yet also disclosed. This is different from something completely concealed that would suggest an ultimate denial of experience for the occupant. What is required is a balance between what is revealed and what is not, an “unexpected occurrence which one expects”, the indication that something lays beyond that is “coveted as the goal of a long exploration” (Dufrenne 1973, 398).

The enticement, denial, discovery and restriction of all these encounters with mystery imply a tension between our desire to know and what is unknown. The occupant engages with this tension both physically and psychologically in the hopes of dispelling it. This engagement with an experience of mystery is not an immediate and instantaneous one; it is a lengthened experience due to the attention given to it, both mentally and physically, by the occupants desire to ‘know’ it. This tension and subsequent lengthened engagement with mystery is an experience that lingers with the occupant long after leaving the space, with each individual’s interpretation of it remaining in their memory.

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Volume ReflectionMystery can be understood as something that restricts, providing only partial information of an object or space. This unknown element incites from us a questioning, piquing curiosity and stimulating our imagination to envision possibilities for what that missing information might be. How we envision the missing information through our imaginative engagement differs from person to person depending on their unique past experiences. The individual’s very personal imaginings opens up endless and inexhaustible possibilities for what the mystery could be. More significant than the mystery being understood or solved, is the inspiration and provocation of these imagined possibilities by each who encounters it. The result of this mystery, curiosity and imaginative process is a “nearness” (Heidegger as quoted by Sharr 2007, 25) to space that fosters an emotional engagement between occupant and their environment.

In Dufrenne’s words, “there is something unswervingly sublime about the hidden” and that it is valued for its “challenging provocation and the courage necessary for taking up the challenge” (1973, 399). It is precisely the ‘unknown’ of mystery that makes it a ‘beautiful’ experience; the allure of something withheld from us that contains a world of possibilities, differing for each individual that encounters it. If it is the role of the Interior Architect to provide an enriching experience for the occupant, then perhaps this research can help define one

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of the many ways in which to facilitate a lasting connection with the built environment. Instead of providing an interior of neutral space that is simply “an envelope and background for life which goes on around it” (Zumthor 2013, 12), the challenging experiential nature of an encounter with mystery and “the courage necessary for taking up the challenge” (Dufrenne 1973, 399) will provoke the necessary engagement between occupant and space. The aim of this research was to not only discover what mystery is and how it could be manifested, but also to uncover what could incite engagement and why there is a need for it in our current built environment. The lack of engagement through the prevalence of Non-Places was covered under the chapter entitled ‘Spaces of Disengagement’ and discussed the immediacy of experience it provides for the occupant is not one that is lasting and meaningful. The capability of physical and psychological engagement to provoke a lasting connection with space was illustrated through a discussion of imagination and curiosity in ‘Engagement’. And finally what spatial experiences could potentially provoke this engagement were discussed in ‘Mystery’. This need for spaces that engage the occupant, engagement itself and provocation through the use of mystery has provided the foundation for answering my research question; what is an experience of mystery in the built environment?

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Where to Next?For Volume Two of my single-topic research project I plan to expand upon and test the ability of mystery to engage occupants within the built environment through the guidelines discussed in Volume One. I am fascinated by the engaging nature of the unknown and feel that it can offer both a meaningful individual and collective experience for the occupant. I therefore hope to integrate an experience of mystery within an interior space in the urban context of Perth city where there are many opportunities to counteract the disengaging nature of ‘Non-places’. Due to the ambiguous nature of mystery and its endless possibilities to be spatially manifested, the guidelines outlined for incorporation are not aimed at a specific typology and could potentially be applied to a range of uses within a site. I feel that this lends itself to a With-Design project that will explore the potential of these guidelines for a range of typologies within the chosen site. I am excited at the opportunity to further develop this research from a theoretical About-Design position into a tangible design scheme within the built environment.

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Anderson, Thomas C. 2006. A Commentary on Gabriel Marcel’s the Mystery of Being / Thomas C. Anderson. Edited by Inc ebrary. Milwaukee, WI: Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press.Chris Salter. 2013. Atmosphere. Chris Salter. Accessed May 28. http://chrissalter.com/projects/atmosphere_glasmoog/. Cousins, Mark 2011. “Episode 5: Post-War Cinema”. The Story of Film: An Odyssey. United Kingdom: Hopscotch Films.Dufrenne, Mikel. 1973. The Phenomenology of Aesthetic Experience. Evanston Ill.: Evanston Ill. : Northwestern University Press.Glover, Lazlow. 2008. Cy Twombly: Photographs 1951-2007. Germany: Schirmer/Mosel Verlag.Greenberger, E., J. Woldman, and S. W. Yourshaw. 1967. “Components of Curiosity: Berlyne Reconsidered.” The British journal of psychology 58 (3): 375-386. Gregory, T. 2011. “The Rise of the Productive Non-Place: The Contemporary Office as a State of Exception.” Space Cult. 14 (3): 244-258. doi: 10.1177/1206331211412264.Harrison, P. 2001. “Curiosity, Forbidden Knowledge, and the Reformation of Natural Philosophy in Early Modern England.” Isis 92 (2): 265-290. Heidingsfelder, Markus. 2009. Rem Koolhaas: A Kind of Architect. DVD. Collingwood, Vic: Madmen Entertainment. Holl, Steven. 2000. Parallax / Steven Holl. New York: New York : Princeton Architectural Press.Humpston, Jessica. 2014. “Mystery in the Built Environment.” Literature Review, Curtin University of Technology. Loewy, E. H. 1998. “Curiosity, Imagination, Compassion, Science and Ethics: Do Curiosity and Imagination Serve a Central Function?” Health Care Analysis 6 (4): 286-294. Lynch, Kevin. 1960. The Image of the City. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge, Mass. : M.I.T. Pr.Maleuvre, Didier. 2011. Horizon : A History of Our Infinite Longing, Horizon, The. Berkeley: Berkeley : University of California Press.Norberg-Schulz, Christian. 1980. Genius Loci : Towards a Phenomenology of Architecture / Christian Norberg-Schulz. New York: New York : Rizzoli.Okakura, Kakuzo. 2003. The Book of Tea / Kakuzo Okakura Introduction by Sam Hamill. Boston : [New York]: Boston : Shambhala[New York] : Distributed in the U.S. by Random House.Pallasmaa, J. 2000. “Hapticity and Time - Notes on Fragile Architecture.” Archit. Rev. 207 (1239): 78-84. Pallasmaa, Juhani. 2005. The Eyes of the Skin : Architecture and the Senses. Chichester : Hoboken, NJ: Chichester : Wiley-AcademyHoboken, NJ : John Wiley & Sons.Pallasmaa, Juhani. 2009. The Thinking Hand : Existential and Embodied Wisdom in Arthitecture / Juhani Pallasmaa. Chichester, U.K.: Chichester, U.K. : Wiley.Sharr, Adam. 2007. Heidegger for Architects / Adam Sharr. Abingdon, London.Sifang Art Museum. 2014. Dezeen. http://www.dezeen.com/2014/03/12/sifang-art-museum-nanjing-steven-holl-movies/.Sharma, Sarah. 2009. “Baring Life and Lifestyle in the Non-Place.” Cultural Studies 23 (1): 129-148. doi: 10.1080/09502380802016246.Sites of Vision : The Discursive Construction of Sight in the History of Philosophy / Edited by David Michael Levin. 1997. Edited by David Michael Levin. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge, Mass. : MIT Press.Tanizaki, Junichirō. 2001. In Praise of Shadows / Junichirō Tanizaki. Translated by Thomas J. Harper and Edward G. Seidensticker. London: London : Vintage.Trombley, Stephen. 2012. Fifty Thinkers Who Shaped the Modern World. London: London : Atlantic Books Ltd.Turner, Judith. 2012. Seeing Ambiguity : Photographs of Architecture / Judith Turner. Edited by Judith Turner. Stuttgart: Stuttgart : Edition Axel Menges.Venturi, Robert. 1966. Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture / Robert Venturi. Edited by Art Museum of Modern. New York: New York : Museum of Modern Art.Vidler, Anthony. 2007. Antony Gormley : Blind Light / Anthony Vidler, Susan Stewart, W.J.T. Mitchell. Edited by Susan Stewart, W. J. Thomas Mitchell and England Arts Council, Blind Light. Southbank Centre, U.K.: Southbank Centre, U.K. : Hayward Publishing.Zumthor, Peter. 2013. “Way of Looking at Things.” London : Atlantic Books Ltd.

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Images

Figure 1.1 - Author’s Own. 2014. Afternoon SunFigure 1.2 - Tattoo. 2014. Rebloggy. http://rebloggy.com/post/street-style-tattoos-mens-fashion-menswear-mens-style-city-style-mens-apparel/38206567352.Figure 1.3 - Abandoned House. 2014. http://mirrorsydney.wordpress.com/category/south-west-sydney/.Figure 1.4 - Disengage. 2014. Oroboro. http://o-roboro.tumblr.com/post/87353138893/tokyo-yasuhiro-ishimoto.Figure 1.5 - Apartments. 2014. Accessed May 30. http://pressroom.gelighting.com/news/is-your-office-lighting-ideal#.U5CCbxaD4_U.Figure 1.51 - School. 2014. Building UK. Accessed May 30. http://www.building.co.uk/should-schools-be-uniform?/5041856.article. Figure 1.52 - Airport. 2014. Apogee. Accessed May 29. http://c03.apogee.net/.Figure 1.53 - Office. 2014. The FHB. Accessed May 28. http://thefhd.com/modern-office-colors-ideas/modern-office-cubicles-2012-remodeling-home-designs/.Figure 1.54 - Tower. 2014. Flickr. Accessed May 30. http://www.flickr.com/photos/42143754@N04/8322078597.Figure 1.6 - Le Corbusier. 2014. Panoramio. http://www.panoramio.com/photo/55492205.Figure 1.7 - Kahn. 2014. Raquel Portillo. http://raquelportillo.pbworks.com/w/page/38143218/Louis%20Kahn,%20Exeter%20Library.Figure 1.9 - Author’s Own. 2014. Points of Focus.Figure 2.0 - Blind Light 3. 2007. Antony Gormley. http://www.antonygormley.com/sculpture/chronology.Figure 2.1 - Uganda. 2014. National Geogrphic. http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/apub-kybira-village-uganda/.Figure 2.2 - Teahouse. 2014. Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Museum_für_Ostasiatische_Kunst_Dahlem_Berlin_Mai_2006_017.jpg.Figure 2.3 - Roan-ji Garden Kyoto. 2014. Photo Everywhere. http://www.photoeverywhere.co.uk/east/japan/kyoto/slides/rock_garden.htm.Figure 2.4 - Author’s Own. 2014. Nearness.Figure 2.5 - Author’s Own. 2014. Mystery.Figure 2.6 - Author’s Own. 2014. Possibilities.Figure 3.0 - Dark Ocean. 2014. Devian Art. http://joaoyates.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Ocean-Simulation-431080294.Figure 3.1 - Fish Ocean. 2014. Bua Mai. Accessed May 28. http://www.buamai.com/image/54364-wayne-levin-putter-fish-with-akule-sc-723-artsy.Figure 3.2 - Fish Tank. 2014. Gallery Hip. Accessed May 28. http://galleryhip.com/betta-fish-in-the-same-tank.html.Figure 3.3 - Author’s Own. 2014. Everyday Mystery.Figure 3.4 - Steam. 2014. One Dot Six Two. http://onedotsixtwo.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/dsc_0133.jpg.Figure 3.5 - Author’s Own. 2014. Afternoon Sun.Figure 3.6 - Author’s Own. 2014. Second Floor Window.Figure 3.7 - Author’s Own. 2014. Mystery Figure Ground.Figure 3.8 - Hand. 2014. Pinterest. Accessed May 28. http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/b3/08/55/b3085582616fede593fc23f00da1ec08.jpg.Figure 3.9 - Ghost Opera. 2005. Dennis Oliver. http://www.denisolivier.com/exhibition.php?sid=24.Figure 3.10 - The Countess. 1863. The Beautiful Century. http://beautifulcentury.tumblr.com/post/12482395720/ilikeoldthings-the-countess-of-castiglione.Figure 3.11 - Rain . 2014. Pinterest. Accessed May 28. http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/51/c3/14/51c3149a15cbd08d57593783befc390d.jpg.Figure 3.12 - Mist. 2014. Etsy. Accessed May 28. https://www.etsy.com/listing/59275849/mist-art-mist-photography-fog-lost-in?utm_source=Pinterest&utm_medium=PageTools&utm_campaign=Share.Figure 3.13 - Falling Man. 2011. Design Observer. http://observatory.designobserver.com/johnfoster/feature/accidental-mysteries-112711/31468/#.UBpXP5G18ok.pinterest.Figure 3.14 - Uganda. 2011. National Geographic. http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/pub-kybira-village-uganda/.Figure 3.15 - Street Photographer. 2013. Brain Pickings. http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/11/26/vivian-maier-self-portraits-book/.Figure 3.16 - Maya. 1977. First Time User. http://firsttimeuser.tumblr.com/post/26388742723/the-mysterious-maya-by-george-e-stuart-and.Figure 3.17 - Floating. 2014. Helmut Newton. Accessed May 28. http://25.media.tumblr.com/7f0bf458c126980169af963c53af6072/tumblr_mz118zAC5K1qbklpto1_1280.jpg.Figure 3.18 - Girl. 2014. William Klein. Accessed May 28. http://observatory.designobserver.com/media/images/05.01.09_525.jpg.Figure 3.19 - Lounge. 2014. This Isn’t Happiness. Accessed May 28. http://thisisnthappiness.com/page/9.

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Figure 3.20 - Lamp. 2012. Unknown Skywalker. http://unknownskywalker.tumblr.com/post/21687404828/explosion-by-joschi-herczeg-and-daniele-kaehr-the.Figure 3.21 - After Light. 2013. My Modern Net. http://www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/jan-kriwol-afterlight.Figure 3.22 - Umbrella. 2014. Visual News. Accessed May 28. http://www.visualnews.com/page/4/.Figure 3.23 - Tunnel. 2014. Hiroshi Sugimoto. Accessed May 28. http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/01/8f/31/018f31c383d0161cb7d2c8bb5b598be6.jpg.Figure 3.24 - Stair. 2014. Tumblr. Accessed May 28. http://thestars-themoon.tumblr.com/post/3210929888.Figure 3.25 - Underground. 2014. Flickr. Accessed May 28. http://thestars-themoon.tumblr.com/post/3210929888.Figure 3.26 - Trees. 2014. TVM. Accessed May 28. http://tmv.proto.jp/#!/crashinglybeautiful.Figure 3.27- Horizon. 2014. Anders Linden. Accessed May 28. http://mpdrolet.tumblr.com/post/56531695175/anders-linden.Figure 3.28 - Starlings. 2009. Today and Tomorrow. http://www.todayandtomorrow.net/2009/02/02/murmur/.Figure 3.29 - Forest. 2014. Pinterest. Accessed May 28. http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/originals/d3/ee/2c/d3ee2cf53164838eba040e4611b46164.jpg.Figure 3.30 - Rocks. 2009. Bastian Kalous. http://www.thisiscolossal.com/2012/10/the-polaroids-of-bastian-kalous/.Figure 3.31 - Sea. 2014. Samm Blake. http://sammblake.tumblr.com.Figure 3.32 - Fish. 2014. Baumer Designs. Accessed May 28. http://baumerdesigns.com/Gallery_North/?page_id=217.Figure 3.33 - Author’s Own. 2014. Perth City Figure Ground.Figure 3.34 - Author’s Own. 2014. Mystery Perth City.Figure 3.35 - Lake. 2014. City Zen Art. http://cityzenart.blogspot.com.au/2011/01/cy-twombly-photographs.html.Figure 3.36 - Light Flowers. 2008. Matthew Reeves Curator. http://matthewreevescurator.wordpress.com/2012/09/07/review-cy-twombly-the-last-paintings-september-2012/.Figure 3.37 - Interior Rome. 2003. Unecollecte. http://unecollecte.blogspot.com.au/2013/02/cy-twombly-photographs-iii.html.Figure 3.38 - Shoji. 2003. Flickr. http://flickrhivemind.net/Tags/door,shoji/Recent.Figure 3.39 - Blind Light 1. 2007. Antony Gormley. http://www.antonygormley.com/sculpture/chronology.Figure 3.40 - Blind Light 2. 2007. Antony Gormley. http://www.antonygormley.com/sculpture/chronology.Figure 3.41 - Author’s Own. 2014. Blurring of SpaceFigure 3.42 - Horizon. 2014. Tumblr. http://mpdrolet.tumblr.com/post/56531695175/anders-linden.Figure 3.43 - Driftwood. 2014. Unexpected Beauty. http://unexpectedspotsofbeauty.blogspot.com.au/2010/06/driftwood-heart-guest-heart-thursday.html.Figure 3.44 - Atmosphere 1. 2013. Chris Salter. http://chrissalter.com/projects/atmosphere_glasmoog/.Figure 3.45 - Atmosphere 2. 2013. Chris Salter. http://chrissalter.com/projects/atmosphere_glasmoog/.Figure 3.46 - Author’s Own. 2014. Horizon.Figure 3.47 - Author’s Own. 2014. Depth.Figure 3.48 - Sophia Chang . 2013. All World Best. http://allworldbest.blogspot.com.au/2013/11/sophia-chang-piques-suspense-through_6.html.Figure 3.49 - Prague Passage. 2014. Thrifty Travel Mama. https://thriftytravelmama.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/dsc_0021.jpg.Figure 3.50 - House. 1993. Study Blue. http://www.studyblue.com/notes/note/n/final-exam/deck/40887.Figure 3.51 - Christo Trees. 2014. Womens Mafia. http://www.womensmafia.com/2009/11/the-lady-you-wanted-love-art-and-jeanne-claude’s-lasting-legacy/.Figure 3.52 - Christo Reichstag. 2014. Womens Mafia. http://www.womensmafia.com/2009/11/the-lady-you-wanted-love-art-and-jeanne-claude’s-lasting-legacy/.Figure 3.53 - Method Acting. 2014. Filming in Iowa. http://filminginiowa.blogspot.com.au.Figure 3.54 - Casablanca. 2014. Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ingrid_Bergman.Figure 3.55 - Judith Turner. 2014. Art Animal Mag. http://www.artanimalmag.com/judith-turner-flatness-of-ambiguity/.Figure 3.56 - Nanjing Sifang 1. 2014. Dezeen. http://www.dezeen.com/2014/03/12/sifang-art-museum-nanjing-steven-holl-movies/.Figure 3.57 - Nanjing Sifang 2. 2014. Dezeen. http://www.dezeen.com/2014/03/12/sifang-art-museum-nanjing-steven-holl-movies/.Figure 3.58 - Author’s Own. 2014. Fragmentation of space.Figure 3.59 - Author’s Own. 2014. Creative Piece.Figure 3.60 - Author’s Own. 2014. Concealment Diagram.

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