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The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the Senses
Since the book's first publication, interest in the role of the body and the senses has been emerging in both architectural philosophy and teaching. This new, revised and extended edition of this seminal work will not only inspire architects and students to design more holistic architecture, but will enrich the general reader's perception of the world around them.
The Eyes of the Skin has become a classic of architectural theory and consists of two extended essays. The first surveys the historical development of the ocular-centric paradigm in western culture since the Greeks, and its impact on the experience of the world and the nature of architecture. The second examines the role of the other senses in authentic architectural experiences, and points the way towards a multi-sensory architecture which facilitates a sense of belonging and integration.
The Eyes of the Skin has become a classic of architectural theory and consists of two extended essays. The first surveys the historical development of the ocular-centric paradigm in western culture since the Greeks, and its impact on the experience of the world and the nature of architecture. The second examines the role of the other senses in authentic architectural experiences, and points the way towards a multi-sensory architecture which facilitates a sense of belonging and integration.
80 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1996
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June 22, 2021
A friend of mine at work is visually impaired – not blind, but also not able to see, if that makes sense. I’ve asked him what he can see, and while he doesn’t brush questions like that aside, it is also clear that it isn’t easy for him to describe, though presumably something more defined than smudges, if less defined than shapes. In one of Oliver Sacks’ books, he talks about a man who had not been able to see at all, but who then underwent some sort of surgery and suddenly could see. Sacks’ point was that we mostly think we just open our eyes and light steams in and the world is there to be seen with no further input from us. But then Sacks and this once blind man were standing in front of a statue and the man asked Sacks what the statue was of. Sacks told him it was a lion. The man looked puzzled and then walked up to the statue and ran his hands over it, reconciling haptic and visual experiences, and in the process recalibrating his mental image of lions.
I could almost leave this review there, with that first paragraph, it tells you more or less what this book is about. In one of Marshall McLuhan’s books (maybe The Gutenberg Galaxy) he says that over the last few centuries we have come out of a world centred on the ear to one centred on the eye. When we read books, we were really listening to people speak with our eyes - it is more an aural than visual experience. With film and television our way of understanding the world has shifted much more fully to the eye. All the same, as this book makes clear (and the metaphor of clarity I’ve just used for reason illuminates, or rather brings into focus, or rather highlights…you see my problem?) much of philosophy since the Greeks holds that vision as virtually synonymous with reason. In fact, when I’ve tried writing papers with my vision impaired friend we will sometimes try to find ways of referring to reason that does not involve (or privilege) a visual metaphor. Perhaps my current favourite is ‘explicate’ – but how many people know it is from Latin ‘to unfold’? And even then, is ‘to unfold’ a tactile or a visual metaphor?
The point of this book is to encourage us to do more than look at architecture, but to notice how buildings involve all our senses – architecture is presented as a full-body experience. While he was talking about the sound of buildings, I kept thinking about something I only learnt a little while ago about how the acoustics of large halls has impacted the history of Western music. Most early music (or at least the music that was written down and so that we still can hear) was church music. Early churches were big and mostly empty halls with hard, flat walls. And so sounds made in those halls echoed and reverberated. The music you needed to play couldn’t work against these echoes, but had to make use of them – and so think Gregorian Chants with their clear progressions of single notes that merge over the top of each other and that always have a kind of echo just behind them smudging the sound. But to have music with the mathematical precision of Bach requires not only a well-tempered clavier, but a room in which echoes are eliminated and where the clarity of the individual notes would not be lost in the reverberation.
We humans create most of the spaces that we inhabit – and those spaces do much to create us too. They reflect back to us a vision of who we would like to imagine ourselves to be and a world as we would have it. But the notion of vision as the highest realisation of human reason obscures some of the other sensual experiences we have within spaces. A case in point is how much the author makes of smell, for example, particularly in how evocative it is of place. That a scent can transport us back to our childhood has become something of a cliché, but he says today our cities and buildings are almost terrified of smells and have become bland because of it. Our buildings and streets are often built to a scale that makes them a single, bland globalised and sanitised space of nothingness. This is particularly true now that our cities are mostly traversed by cars – we move about in our own private space, smelling nothing more than our own perfume or aftershave.
Interestingly, even when he discusses sight, he has interesting things to say that challenge our more everyday understandings of how we see buildings or city spaces. We think we see a building by direct observation and focused attention – like a series of sharp images hitting directly onto our retina, or rather perhaps like iPhone photos taken in sequence. But this conscious and direct focus isn’t the most important way that we ‘see’ buildings. In fact, mostly we ‘see’ buildings via our peripheral vision. That is, not in what we are directly looking at, but rather what we glimpse vaguely as we move within a building itself and how that peripheral vision informs our sense of the scale of the space we are in. So much of how we see space has been over-determined by Renaissance painting – where there is a definite, fixed focal point from which the painting comes to life, but only when viewed from that one definite point in front of the painting. But our vision doesn’t really work like that - not least because we move in space, and don't only see when stood perfectly still. We are blind to the fact that it is the sight from ‘out of the side of our eyes’ that provides us with more information on the nature of the space we are in, than our direct and focused gaze.
I liked this book an awful lot. It takes all our senses seriously, pressing us up against the textures of the materials buildings are made of and how they confront us as whole bodies, not as a disembodied camera lens fixed on a single tripod. At one point he claims it has been proven that we can ‘feel’ colours through our skin. I’ve no idea if this is true or not – but I certainly know the opposite is true. I don’t need to touch a pane of glass to ‘feel’ how smooth it is, nor to rub my hand across stucco to know it is rough. A glance is enough. And knowing I’m in a soft and forgiving space surely must impact how I relate to that space that is not the same as how I relate to a space of sharp edges and rough plains. Whether I touch any of those surfaces or not, they change how I feel about the space.
I could almost leave this review there, with that first paragraph, it tells you more or less what this book is about. In one of Marshall McLuhan’s books (maybe The Gutenberg Galaxy) he says that over the last few centuries we have come out of a world centred on the ear to one centred on the eye. When we read books, we were really listening to people speak with our eyes - it is more an aural than visual experience. With film and television our way of understanding the world has shifted much more fully to the eye. All the same, as this book makes clear (and the metaphor of clarity I’ve just used for reason illuminates, or rather brings into focus, or rather highlights…you see my problem?) much of philosophy since the Greeks holds that vision as virtually synonymous with reason. In fact, when I’ve tried writing papers with my vision impaired friend we will sometimes try to find ways of referring to reason that does not involve (or privilege) a visual metaphor. Perhaps my current favourite is ‘explicate’ – but how many people know it is from Latin ‘to unfold’? And even then, is ‘to unfold’ a tactile or a visual metaphor?
The point of this book is to encourage us to do more than look at architecture, but to notice how buildings involve all our senses – architecture is presented as a full-body experience. While he was talking about the sound of buildings, I kept thinking about something I only learnt a little while ago about how the acoustics of large halls has impacted the history of Western music. Most early music (or at least the music that was written down and so that we still can hear) was church music. Early churches were big and mostly empty halls with hard, flat walls. And so sounds made in those halls echoed and reverberated. The music you needed to play couldn’t work against these echoes, but had to make use of them – and so think Gregorian Chants with their clear progressions of single notes that merge over the top of each other and that always have a kind of echo just behind them smudging the sound. But to have music with the mathematical precision of Bach requires not only a well-tempered clavier, but a room in which echoes are eliminated and where the clarity of the individual notes would not be lost in the reverberation.
We humans create most of the spaces that we inhabit – and those spaces do much to create us too. They reflect back to us a vision of who we would like to imagine ourselves to be and a world as we would have it. But the notion of vision as the highest realisation of human reason obscures some of the other sensual experiences we have within spaces. A case in point is how much the author makes of smell, for example, particularly in how evocative it is of place. That a scent can transport us back to our childhood has become something of a cliché, but he says today our cities and buildings are almost terrified of smells and have become bland because of it. Our buildings and streets are often built to a scale that makes them a single, bland globalised and sanitised space of nothingness. This is particularly true now that our cities are mostly traversed by cars – we move about in our own private space, smelling nothing more than our own perfume or aftershave.
Interestingly, even when he discusses sight, he has interesting things to say that challenge our more everyday understandings of how we see buildings or city spaces. We think we see a building by direct observation and focused attention – like a series of sharp images hitting directly onto our retina, or rather perhaps like iPhone photos taken in sequence. But this conscious and direct focus isn’t the most important way that we ‘see’ buildings. In fact, mostly we ‘see’ buildings via our peripheral vision. That is, not in what we are directly looking at, but rather what we glimpse vaguely as we move within a building itself and how that peripheral vision informs our sense of the scale of the space we are in. So much of how we see space has been over-determined by Renaissance painting – where there is a definite, fixed focal point from which the painting comes to life, but only when viewed from that one definite point in front of the painting. But our vision doesn’t really work like that - not least because we move in space, and don't only see when stood perfectly still. We are blind to the fact that it is the sight from ‘out of the side of our eyes’ that provides us with more information on the nature of the space we are in, than our direct and focused gaze.
I liked this book an awful lot. It takes all our senses seriously, pressing us up against the textures of the materials buildings are made of and how they confront us as whole bodies, not as a disembodied camera lens fixed on a single tripod. At one point he claims it has been proven that we can ‘feel’ colours through our skin. I’ve no idea if this is true or not – but I certainly know the opposite is true. I don’t need to touch a pane of glass to ‘feel’ how smooth it is, nor to rub my hand across stucco to know it is rough. A glance is enough. And knowing I’m in a soft and forgiving space surely must impact how I relate to that space that is not the same as how I relate to a space of sharp edges and rough plains. Whether I touch any of those surfaces or not, they change how I feel about the space.
December 3, 2013
"Please don't lick the art." Sign at the Minneapolis Institute of the Arts.
There is no such sign on the IDS building or Crystal Court inside. Some art you want to consume, other art makes you want to run the other direction. This book helps you understand why.
This book explores a lot of stuff we take for granted. Or more usually, ignore. In contemporary society, vision is our primary sense. It is also probably our most impersonal sense. You are reading this with your eyes. Before we were literate, I would have been telling you this. We spend a lot of time looking at pages, absorbing information on a two-dimensional scale.
Many contemporary buildings are designed from the point of view of how they will look on a printed page, not how they will feel when you walk in. Cities are designed as a two-dimensional grid, with efficiency of transport, not pleasure in being transported, as the goal. With few exceptions, natural beauty is obliterated as an obstacle.
Vision is instant. Television has displaced print as our primary information and entertainment media. I am constantly amazed at the speed of the images on the screen. I'll bet 100 images a minute is not unusual in television production. Our other senses are not so kaleidoscopic. Touch, smell, and taste are slow and sensuous.
The book is full of such insights (reminders?). Our relationship to architecture is so important and yet so mindless. This book helps bring us back to appreciation of our constructed environment.
Why only four stars? I found the book pretty disjointed. I was constantly re-reading to see if I missed something. The author constantly quoted from other authors. I found it very distracting. I have no doubt that I will re-read this book many times, if only to see if I can't make more sense of it.
February 26, 2012
Everyone loves this book. Well, at least all the architects I know. But then my only 'friends' seem to all be designers, so not that much diversity of opinion there. Not that I don't try, but people tend to not respond well to 3am 'Maxwell just crashed at 17% The end is nigh!!!' texts.
I guess I should address my Goodreader friends as well. We're friends right?
Ok, so there isn't much I can say that hasn't been said or better yet, practiced by the likes of Zumthor and Holl. But, as if I actually need to convince you to read this, it's like saying 'No don't bother with Ulysses, it's pretty dismissible compared to, I don't know, every single work of literature out there or something.' The Eyes of the Skin is also incredibly short. Really - look at it, it actually fits in my bag. Pallasmaa: 1; Koolhaas: 0
I'm quite reserve about the computer bit (in fact, most of his writings on technology). There seems to be a misunderstanding of computer imaging as a purely evil Cartesian flattening of our souls, but digital representation can also be considered in non-visual terms or serves as a transformation of bodily boundary. As for the distance between the object/subject in a virtual dimension - well, I would like to cite Grosz in saying the body and its environment are mutually defining blah blah.
Wow, I sound pretty cynical here, maybe because I've met the guy and his speech was rather redundant. Anyway, great book, highly recommended for quotes and references with that essay you've been putting off for weeks.
Also highly recommended for optometrists. Glasses are so overpriced.
I guess I should address my Goodreader friends as well. We're friends right?
Ok, so there isn't much I can say that hasn't been said or better yet, practiced by the likes of Zumthor and Holl. But, as if I actually need to convince you to read this, it's like saying 'No don't bother with Ulysses, it's pretty dismissible compared to, I don't know, every single work of literature out there or something.' The Eyes of the Skin is also incredibly short. Really - look at it, it actually fits in my bag. Pallasmaa: 1; Koolhaas: 0
I'm quite reserve about the computer bit (in fact, most of his writings on technology). There seems to be a misunderstanding of computer imaging as a purely evil Cartesian flattening of our souls, but digital representation can also be considered in non-visual terms or serves as a transformation of bodily boundary. As for the distance between the object/subject in a virtual dimension - well, I would like to cite Grosz in saying the body and its environment are mutually defining blah blah.
Wow, I sound pretty cynical here, maybe because I've met the guy and his speech was rather redundant. Anyway, great book, highly recommended for quotes and references with that essay you've been putting off for weeks.
Also highly recommended for optometrists. Glasses are so overpriced.
September 10, 2007
total nonsense but full of evocative, useful phrases
August 10, 2019
Divna knjiga o arhitekturi izašla iz Bašlarovog šinjela! Treba da interesuje i one čije je znanje o arhitekturi prilično ograničeno. (Među njima sam.)
O prostoru, čulima i interakciji. Zaključak je da je osnova dobre arhitekture saodnos.
Palasma ubedljivo i bez mistifikacije govori o jednom celovitijem, humanijem doživljaju prostora.
Naša vizuelnocentrična civilizacija zanemarila je ostala čula koja su neretko i presudna. Lavina vizuelnih senzacija odaljuje čoveka od željenog saodnosa. Vid sa sobom povlači i volju za fiksacijom, dominacijom, menja auratičnost umetničkog objekta. Tako je, na primer, suština pisanog teksta van samog teksta. Vizuelni oblik postaje supstitucija usmenosti, patvoren pakt sa čitaocem koji čitajući želi da tekst oslušne i, naravno, intelektualno procesuira. Međutim, Palasma je i protiv prevlasti ideje i funkcionalnosti kako u arhitekturi tako i u umetnosti uopšte. U pitanju je jedan integralniji, intuitivniji koncept koji bi uvažio našu perceptivnu osetljivost. Jer, uostalom, ukoliko se daje preimućstvo samo jednom čulu (a po psihologu Džejmsu Gibsonu, postoji čak 22 čula), naše životno iskustvo biva značajno osiromašeno. I šta je cilj? Zgrade koje mirišu, zvuče, na kojima vreme (može da) prolazi, čija tekstura kazuje priču, koje su uklopljene u čovekov ambijent. Dakle, ne konstrukti van njega, već čovekov prostorni produžetak. Saobraćaj je sledeći - ja šaljem emocije prostoru, a prostor mi uzvraća svojom aurom koja mami i emancipuje moju percepciju. (Ali slanje nije samo vizuelno!)
Za Palasmu, tišina arhitekture je uzvraćajuća, sećajuća tišina. Zapravo, cela arhitektura se može definisati kao umetnost okamenjene tišine. Ta tišina i miriše. Svaki miris (a dovoljno je samo osam molekula da bismo imali taj osećaj, a mirisa ima više od deset hiljada) oblikuje poetiku prostora i pokreće narativ. A susreti se ne dešavaju samo između čoveka i okoline, već i između samih čula. Tako je jako zanimljivo autorovo pitanje - zašto sve napuštene kuće imaju isti miris? Da li upravo zbog našeg čula vida? (Zanimljivo je da je Helen Keler po mirisu znala da nepogrešivo prepozna staru kuću.)
A sva čula potiču od dodira. Dok se ostala čula tiču distance, dodir neposredno situira nas u odnosu na naše iskustvo okoline. (Nedovoljnost vida možda je i najupečatljivije prikazana u čuvenoj Karavađevoj slici sa naslovne strane.) Na samom početku knjige navodi se (doduše, bez daljnih objašnjenja, ali sa referencom - James Turrel, 'Plato's Cave and Light within' in: Elephant and Butterfly: permanence and change in architecture) kako naša koža može da razlikuje boje. Dakle, bukvalno i vidimo kožom.
Na tom talasu, bilo bi jako zanimljivo načiniti i kakvu poetiku dodira (haptiku!) književnosti. A i sam Palasma ukazuje na to koliko je vizija grada Itala Kalvina i Dostojevskog uticala i na naš doživljaj prostora, ili kako su mirisi imali bitnu ulogu kod Rilkea i Prusta.
Sve u svemu, radujem se novim i dalekosežnijim saodnosima, perspektivama, susretima. Palasma je ukazao da su oni potrebni i mogući.
O prostoru, čulima i interakciji. Zaključak je da je osnova dobre arhitekture saodnos.
Palasma ubedljivo i bez mistifikacije govori o jednom celovitijem, humanijem doživljaju prostora.
Naša vizuelnocentrična civilizacija zanemarila je ostala čula koja su neretko i presudna. Lavina vizuelnih senzacija odaljuje čoveka od željenog saodnosa. Vid sa sobom povlači i volju za fiksacijom, dominacijom, menja auratičnost umetničkog objekta. Tako je, na primer, suština pisanog teksta van samog teksta. Vizuelni oblik postaje supstitucija usmenosti, patvoren pakt sa čitaocem koji čitajući želi da tekst oslušne i, naravno, intelektualno procesuira. Međutim, Palasma je i protiv prevlasti ideje i funkcionalnosti kako u arhitekturi tako i u umetnosti uopšte. U pitanju je jedan integralniji, intuitivniji koncept koji bi uvažio našu perceptivnu osetljivost. Jer, uostalom, ukoliko se daje preimućstvo samo jednom čulu (a po psihologu Džejmsu Gibsonu, postoji čak 22 čula), naše životno iskustvo biva značajno osiromašeno. I šta je cilj? Zgrade koje mirišu, zvuče, na kojima vreme (može da) prolazi, čija tekstura kazuje priču, koje su uklopljene u čovekov ambijent. Dakle, ne konstrukti van njega, već čovekov prostorni produžetak. Saobraćaj je sledeći - ja šaljem emocije prostoru, a prostor mi uzvraća svojom aurom koja mami i emancipuje moju percepciju. (Ali slanje nije samo vizuelno!)
Za Palasmu, tišina arhitekture je uzvraćajuća, sećajuća tišina. Zapravo, cela arhitektura se može definisati kao umetnost okamenjene tišine. Ta tišina i miriše. Svaki miris (a dovoljno je samo osam molekula da bismo imali taj osećaj, a mirisa ima više od deset hiljada) oblikuje poetiku prostora i pokreće narativ. A susreti se ne dešavaju samo između čoveka i okoline, već i između samih čula. Tako je jako zanimljivo autorovo pitanje - zašto sve napuštene kuće imaju isti miris? Da li upravo zbog našeg čula vida? (Zanimljivo je da je Helen Keler po mirisu znala da nepogrešivo prepozna staru kuću.)
A sva čula potiču od dodira. Dok se ostala čula tiču distance, dodir neposredno situira nas u odnosu na naše iskustvo okoline. (Nedovoljnost vida možda je i najupečatljivije prikazana u čuvenoj Karavađevoj slici sa naslovne strane.) Na samom početku knjige navodi se (doduše, bez daljnih objašnjenja, ali sa referencom - James Turrel, 'Plato's Cave and Light within' in: Elephant and Butterfly: permanence and change in architecture) kako naša koža može da razlikuje boje. Dakle, bukvalno i vidimo kožom.
Na tom talasu, bilo bi jako zanimljivo načiniti i kakvu poetiku dodira (haptiku!) književnosti. A i sam Palasma ukazuje na to koliko je vizija grada Itala Kalvina i Dostojevskog uticala i na naš doživljaj prostora, ili kako su mirisi imali bitnu ulogu kod Rilkea i Prusta.
Sve u svemu, radujem se novim i dalekosežnijim saodnosima, perspektivama, susretima. Palasma je ukazao da su oni potrebni i mogući.
May 14, 2015
ini buku keren: memulihkan penghargaan relasi arsitektur dengan tubuh. dengan segenap indera yang berdialog dengan dinding, lantai dan langit-langit...
kerap sekali kita ketemu atau kecebur dalam suatu pengalaman di dalam ruang yang memesona, menakjubkan, menggetarkan. dan ketika ruang yang hebat itu kita potret, menguaplah segenap kehebatannya. itu pengalaman saya dengan karya-karya yb. mangunwijaya yang kebanyakan hanya nikmat ketika 'DIHADIRI' atau didatangi, jangan melihatnya dari potret.
buku ini menerangi gejala di atas: bahwa arsitektur itu bukan 'graphic games' bukan gambar yang dibikin meruang, tapi adalah suatu gubahan ruang yang bisa disentuh, diraba, dijelajahi dengan segenap indera kita. rabaan adalah induk dari segala indera.
pendekatan fenomenologis seperti ini memang cocok untuk 'memahami', tapi 'bagaimana memroduksi'nya, itu masih belum ada titik terang, juga dalam buku tipis ini.
kerap sekali kita ketemu atau kecebur dalam suatu pengalaman di dalam ruang yang memesona, menakjubkan, menggetarkan. dan ketika ruang yang hebat itu kita potret, menguaplah segenap kehebatannya. itu pengalaman saya dengan karya-karya yb. mangunwijaya yang kebanyakan hanya nikmat ketika 'DIHADIRI' atau didatangi, jangan melihatnya dari potret.
buku ini menerangi gejala di atas: bahwa arsitektur itu bukan 'graphic games' bukan gambar yang dibikin meruang, tapi adalah suatu gubahan ruang yang bisa disentuh, diraba, dijelajahi dengan segenap indera kita. rabaan adalah induk dari segala indera.
pendekatan fenomenologis seperti ini memang cocok untuk 'memahami', tapi 'bagaimana memroduksi'nya, itu masih belum ada titik terang, juga dalam buku tipis ini.
June 28, 2010
اگر جسم کمی آسانتر درک می شد ، هیچ کس به وجود ذهن پی نمی برد
September 12, 2020
جذاب بود. باعث شد به معماری و انواع حسها بیشتر و دقیقتر نگاه بکنم و رابطه ی بینشون رو بیشتر زیر نظر بگیرم.
البته که پیشنهاد میکنم ترجمه ی علیرضا فخرکننده رو نخوانید، لغات نامانوسی که توسط خودش ساخته شده، زیاد داره و این باعث میشه که کتاب نسبتا درکش سخت بشه و کمی هم کند پیش بره.
البته که پیشنهاد میکنم ترجمه ی علیرضا فخرکننده رو نخوانید، لغات نامانوسی که توسط خودش ساخته شده، زیاد داره و این باعث میشه که کتاب نسبتا درکش سخت بشه و کمی هم کند پیش بره.
December 7, 2024
هنگامی که بدن طنین خود را در فضا کشف میکند احساس خشنودی و امنیت میکنیم. وقتی ساختاری را تجربه میکنیم ناخودآگاه با استخوان ها و عضلاتمان از پیکربندی آن تقلید میکنیم.، جریان سرزنده و لذت بخش موسیقی ، ناخودآگاه به احساسات جسمانی تبدیل میشود. ترکیب بندی تابلوی نقاشی آبستره، تحریک سیستم عضلانی را به همراه دارد…. و این تغییر شکل توسط ظرفیت تقلیدی بدن رخ می دهد.
August 21, 2023
Meh pe alocuri interesanta
June 24, 2025
Reading The Eyes of the Skin has rekindled my intimate connection with Architecture. It is deeply thought-provoking, encouraging a kind of curiosity that goes beyond sight and form. Pallasmaa articulates the essence of Architecture with striking clarity — its soul, its sensorial depth, and its human-centered nature. This book reminds me why I fell in love with Architecture in the first place. I will definitely revisit it.
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April 23, 2024Buna yıldız vermek uygun olmaz. Soyut bir kitap değil, ama somut mudur o da bilinmez. En iyisi okuyun, zaten kısa. :)
“A walk through a forest is invigorating and healing due to the constant interaction of all sense modalities; Bachelard speaks of ‘the polyphony of the senses’. The eye collaborates with the body and the other senses. One’s sense of reality is strengthened and articulated by this constant interaction. Architecture is essentially an extension of nature into the man-made realm …”
The eye is the organ of distance and separation, whereas touch is the
sense of nearness, intimacy and affection. The eye surveys, controls and
investigates, whereas touch approaches and caresses. During overpowering emotional experiences, we tend to close off the distancing sense of
vision; we close the eyes when dreaming, listening to music, or caressing
our beloved ones. Deep shadows and darkness are essential, because they
dim the sharpness of vision, make depth and distance ambiguous, and
invite unconscious peripheral vision and tactile fantasy.
How much more mysterious and inviting is the street of an old town
with its alternating realms of darkness and light than are the brightly and
evenly lit streets of today! The imagination and daydreaming are stimulated by dim light and shadow. In order to think clearly, the sharpness of
vision has to be suppressed, for thoughts travel with an absent-minded
and unfocused gaze. Homogenous bright light paralyses the imagination
in the same way that homogenisation of space weakens the experience of
being, and wipes away the sense of place. The human eye is most perfectly tuned for twilight rather than bright daylight.
We need only eight molecules of substance to trigger an impulse of smell
in a nerve ending, and we can detect more than 10,000 different odours.
The most persistent memory of any space is often its smell. I cannot
remember the appearance of the door to my grandfather's farmhouse in
my early childhood, but I do remember tl1e resistance of its weight and
the patina of its wood surface scarred by decades of use, and I recall
especially vividly the scent of home that hit my face as an invisible wall
behind tl1e door. Every dwelling has its individual smell of home.
Gravity is measured by the bottom of the foot; we trace tl1e density
and texture of the ground through our soles. Standing barefoot on a
smooth glacial rock by tl1e sea at sunset, and sensing the warmth of the
sun-heated stone through one's soles, is an extraordinarily healing experience, making one part of the eternal cycle of nature. One senses the
slow breathing of the earth.
There are cities that remain mere distant visual images when remembered, and cities that are remembered in all their vivacity. The memory
re-evokes the delightful city with all its sounds and smells and variations
of light and shade. I can even choose whether to walk on the sunny side
or the shaded side of the street in the pleasurable city of my remembrance. The real measure of the qualities of a city is whether one can
imagine falling in love in it.
“A walk through a forest is invigorating and healing due to the constant interaction of all sense modalities; Bachelard speaks of ‘the polyphony of the senses’. The eye collaborates with the body and the other senses. One’s sense of reality is strengthened and articulated by this constant interaction. Architecture is essentially an extension of nature into the man-made realm …”
The eye is the organ of distance and separation, whereas touch is the
sense of nearness, intimacy and affection. The eye surveys, controls and
investigates, whereas touch approaches and caresses. During overpowering emotional experiences, we tend to close off the distancing sense of
vision; we close the eyes when dreaming, listening to music, or caressing
our beloved ones. Deep shadows and darkness are essential, because they
dim the sharpness of vision, make depth and distance ambiguous, and
invite unconscious peripheral vision and tactile fantasy.
How much more mysterious and inviting is the street of an old town
with its alternating realms of darkness and light than are the brightly and
evenly lit streets of today! The imagination and daydreaming are stimulated by dim light and shadow. In order to think clearly, the sharpness of
vision has to be suppressed, for thoughts travel with an absent-minded
and unfocused gaze. Homogenous bright light paralyses the imagination
in the same way that homogenisation of space weakens the experience of
being, and wipes away the sense of place. The human eye is most perfectly tuned for twilight rather than bright daylight.
We need only eight molecules of substance to trigger an impulse of smell
in a nerve ending, and we can detect more than 10,000 different odours.
The most persistent memory of any space is often its smell. I cannot
remember the appearance of the door to my grandfather's farmhouse in
my early childhood, but I do remember tl1e resistance of its weight and
the patina of its wood surface scarred by decades of use, and I recall
especially vividly the scent of home that hit my face as an invisible wall
behind tl1e door. Every dwelling has its individual smell of home.
Gravity is measured by the bottom of the foot; we trace tl1e density
and texture of the ground through our soles. Standing barefoot on a
smooth glacial rock by tl1e sea at sunset, and sensing the warmth of the
sun-heated stone through one's soles, is an extraordinarily healing experience, making one part of the eternal cycle of nature. One senses the
slow breathing of the earth.
There are cities that remain mere distant visual images when remembered, and cities that are remembered in all their vivacity. The memory
re-evokes the delightful city with all its sounds and smells and variations
of light and shade. I can even choose whether to walk on the sunny side
or the shaded side of the street in the pleasurable city of my remembrance. The real measure of the qualities of a city is whether one can
imagine falling in love in it.
April 8, 2021
Este libro es peculiar en tanto que la teoría que presenta se conecta inmediatamente con el mundo real y cambia la manera en la que uno de percibir la realidad. Su propuesta por percibir el mundo de una manera menos visual y más háptica (palabra que aprendí leyendo este libro), resonó en mí de manera instantánea, a pesar de no ser arquitecto. Creo que esto se debe a que la idea central del libro (El "oculocentrismo" de nuestra sociedad y el olvido del cuerpo) genera reflexiones más allá del campo de la arquitectura. Pallasmaa obliga al lector a darse cuenta de cómo este olvido del cuerpo afecta, de manera perjudicial, la manera en la que habitamos el mundo.
Asimismo, me hizo apreciar más la importancia de la arquitectura en mi vida cotidiana: sobre todo la idea de que los espacios arquitectónicos son lo que median entre el hombre y la naturaleza y, por lo tanto, son esenciales en definir la manera en cómo habitamos el mundo. El problema que señala Pallasmaa es algo que creo que todos hemos sentido al menos inconscientemente: la arquitectura y las ciudades modernas alienan a la persona de la realidad. Por eso uno puede llegar a sentirse incómodo viviendo en una ciudad o un edificio contemporáneo: porque muchos de ellos sólo están construidos pensando en la dimensión visual y dejan del lado todos los otros ámbitos sensoriales y corporales.
Leer "The Eyes of The Skin" no es sólo aprender de teoría, también es una experiencia por sí misma. Peter MacKeith señala en la introducción al libro (una introducción que viene al final, como debe ser): "Despite the book's brevity (you might finish it in an hour), like all works of literary ambition, The Eyes of The Skin absolutely intends to hold your attention and slow your sense of time and experience as you turn on the pages". Esta fue exactamente mi experiencia con el libro. A pesar de ser de poco más de cien páginas, me tardé días en leerlo, deteniéndome para disfrutar y poder comprender a cabalidad todo lo que Pallasmaa decía. Habré tomado unas treinta o cuarenta notas del libro, la mayoría citas textuales.
No sé si habrá sido a propósito, pero la textura de la pasta de esta edición, siendo tan particular (la tela con la que está recubierta genera una sensación rugosa en las manos), estuvo presente en mi inconsciente todo el tiempo que leí este libro, como queriéndome recordar el mismo punto que defiende Pallasmaa en el libro: reivindicar lo sensorial que queda más allá del reino ocular, en especial el sentido del tacto.
La experiencia vivencial que genera la conexión de su teoría con la realidad es lo que me atrapó. Pocas veces he disfrutado leer un libro de teoría tanto como este: en especial y para mí sorpresa, tratándose de un tema que conozco tan poco.
Asimismo, me hizo apreciar más la importancia de la arquitectura en mi vida cotidiana: sobre todo la idea de que los espacios arquitectónicos son lo que median entre el hombre y la naturaleza y, por lo tanto, son esenciales en definir la manera en cómo habitamos el mundo. El problema que señala Pallasmaa es algo que creo que todos hemos sentido al menos inconscientemente: la arquitectura y las ciudades modernas alienan a la persona de la realidad. Por eso uno puede llegar a sentirse incómodo viviendo en una ciudad o un edificio contemporáneo: porque muchos de ellos sólo están construidos pensando en la dimensión visual y dejan del lado todos los otros ámbitos sensoriales y corporales.
Leer "The Eyes of The Skin" no es sólo aprender de teoría, también es una experiencia por sí misma. Peter MacKeith señala en la introducción al libro (una introducción que viene al final, como debe ser): "Despite the book's brevity (you might finish it in an hour), like all works of literary ambition, The Eyes of The Skin absolutely intends to hold your attention and slow your sense of time and experience as you turn on the pages". Esta fue exactamente mi experiencia con el libro. A pesar de ser de poco más de cien páginas, me tardé días en leerlo, deteniéndome para disfrutar y poder comprender a cabalidad todo lo que Pallasmaa decía. Habré tomado unas treinta o cuarenta notas del libro, la mayoría citas textuales.
No sé si habrá sido a propósito, pero la textura de la pasta de esta edición, siendo tan particular (la tela con la que está recubierta genera una sensación rugosa en las manos), estuvo presente en mi inconsciente todo el tiempo que leí este libro, como queriéndome recordar el mismo punto que defiende Pallasmaa en el libro: reivindicar lo sensorial que queda más allá del reino ocular, en especial el sentido del tacto.
La experiencia vivencial que genera la conexión de su teoría con la realidad es lo que me atrapó. Pocas veces he disfrutado leer un libro de teoría tanto como este: en especial y para mí sorpresa, tratándose de un tema que conozco tan poco.
May 31, 2011
A beautiful book and inspirational. Pallasmaa is a remarkable writer and each sentence is evocative and can be the springboard for further analysis and thought.
The short book investigates how the senses are activated in and through architecture and the built environment. Logging the ocularcentric nature of most architecture theory, Pallasmaa evokes sound (and silence), but also scent and texture in a profoundly moving and effective way.
Most significantly, there is attention to memory, passion and imagination and how they are summoned, triggered and enhanced through architecture. But the quality of the writing alone is inspiration for readers and writers.
The short book investigates how the senses are activated in and through architecture and the built environment. Logging the ocularcentric nature of most architecture theory, Pallasmaa evokes sound (and silence), but also scent and texture in a profoundly moving and effective way.
Most significantly, there is attention to memory, passion and imagination and how they are summoned, triggered and enhanced through architecture. But the quality of the writing alone is inspiration for readers and writers.
February 7, 2019
من چاپ نشر چشمه رو خوندم. به نظرم مترجم تمام سعی خودش رو کرده بود که با انتخاب کلماتش جملات رو هر قدر میتونه پیچیدهتر بنویسه.
May 8, 2020
A fantastic book that allows us to deep dive into our everyday senses, and to see it as a universal sensory tool to comprehend space, consciousness and people.
May 10, 2023
Beauty is not just in the ‘eye’ of the beholder.
For those of you that have pondered similarly about life and architecture, this book may be like finding the words of your tribe.
As someone who came into the interest of embodied experience without- the exemplar- Pallasma’s help, (deathly late to the party) this book was a confirmation and a welcomed extension of thought. The emphasis on a connubial bed for the senses in a multi-sensory experience- that is architecture -is still, unfortunately, relevant today. Perhaps more than ever. This book aged well in that sense.
Finally, I will leave you with an excerpt from A Door Handle, A Handshake
“…during the past 30 years, I have come to view all books as architecture books, because all human situations, history, sections, actions, and thoughts are framed by human constructions and artefacts; or special, material and mental constructions provide essential horizons of understanding. I read poems, listen to music, look at paintings, and watch films as potential architectural proposition.”
P.S Can’t stop you from divorcing each other, but I implore you to stay married to your senses.
Sincerely,
An emotional architect.
For those of you that have pondered similarly about life and architecture, this book may be like finding the words of your tribe.
As someone who came into the interest of embodied experience without- the exemplar- Pallasma’s help, (deathly late to the party) this book was a confirmation and a welcomed extension of thought. The emphasis on a connubial bed for the senses in a multi-sensory experience- that is architecture -is still, unfortunately, relevant today. Perhaps more than ever. This book aged well in that sense.
Finally, I will leave you with an excerpt from A Door Handle, A Handshake
“…during the past 30 years, I have come to view all books as architecture books, because all human situations, history, sections, actions, and thoughts are framed by human constructions and artefacts; or special, material and mental constructions provide essential horizons of understanding. I read poems, listen to music, look at paintings, and watch films as potential architectural proposition.”
P.S Can’t stop you from divorcing each other, but I implore you to stay married to your senses.
Sincerely,
An emotional architect.
November 11, 2024
"In emotional states, sense stimuli seem to shift from the more refined senses towards the more archaic, from vision down to hearing, touch and smell, and from light to shadow.
A culture that seeks to control its citizens is likely to promote the opposite direction of interaction, away from intimate individuality and identification and towards a public and distant detachment. A society of surveillance is necessarily a society of the voyeuristic and sadistic eye. An efficient method of mental torture is the use of a constantly high level of illumination that leaves no space for mental withdrawal or privacy; even the dark interiority of self is exposed and violated."
A culture that seeks to control its citizens is likely to promote the opposite direction of interaction, away from intimate individuality and identification and towards a public and distant detachment. A society of surveillance is necessarily a society of the voyeuristic and sadistic eye. An efficient method of mental torture is the use of a constantly high level of illumination that leaves no space for mental withdrawal or privacy; even the dark interiority of self is exposed and violated."
Want to read
December 21, 2020Kitabın Türkçe kapağı o kadar kötü ki, bütün hevesimi tadımı tuzumu kaçırıyor!
February 1, 2021
fyrsta arkíbókin sem ég las (held ég?),
mmmmm
mmmmm
Read
May 5, 2021With it's repeated condemnation of so-called "Western" sensibilities, this book is sure to tickle the fancy of many of today's readers—add a dash of Goldsmithian "Deserted Village" lamentations, and you've got yourself a hit! Essentially, Pallasmaa enframes his practical prescription for the 21st century architecture as up against a Western "visual bias" which he is able to trace back to ancient Greek philosophy all the way to Modern Western thought. Never mind that Plato in 'Phaedrus' warns of written culture as fostering a forgetfulness of the soul whose reliance on external (visual) reference is a "conceit of wisdom," or that visual metaphors are primarily used to illustrate antinomies in Kant's 'Critique of Pure Reason.'
OK, forget I said anything up until now. Let's say that the WEST HAS AN OPTICAL BIAS. Does this properly account for the poverty of architecture today? I was not swayed by Pallasmaa's argument. I'd say that what marks architecture these days is an offshoot of a control society, its attempt to control the senses and passions of its citizenry. Yes, this is distinctly alienating in a visual sense. Structures, though built, seem to tear at their surroundings, destroying context, insisting on shallow recognition of presence above all else. Pallasmaa is entirely correct when he states that,
"The narcissistic eye views architecture solely as a means of self-expression, and as an intellectual-artistic game detached from essential mental and societal connections [...] disengag[ing] the body, and instead of attempting to reconstruct cultural order, it makes a reading of collective signification impossible."
Pallasmaa goes on to say this this is a result of the essentially "detaching sense of vision", and that this nihilistic attitude would be impossible to imagine in a sense of touch. I just don't understand this. I think that an architectural project which seeks to either control by atomizing its inhabitants or merely flatter the self-expression of the architect will result in an isolation of ALL the senses. Surely our visual culture also suffers as a result.
Truly, the real danger is a reification of categories. In a society of mass produced space the entire cocktail of senses are reinforced and predictable. How is the visual significantly different? The search for instantaneity and immediate impact has withered all of our senses—but more importantly, it has reified categories of thinking which serve to quell the furnaces of imagination.
A proper architectural philosophy would, in my humble opinion, never operate out of context. It would be one which would inspire a creative/redemptive relationship with the past and an optimistic sense of the future. More than anything though, it would seek to address the needs of people with a belief in the integrity of the human spirit, rather than cynically attempting to control people or try to prevent societal variables. Architecture, more than anything, is these days either an exercise in paranoia or the self gratification of the designer. Rectifying this would surely be a great first step in creating an architecture 'for all the senses.'
I believe in the good intentions of this work! But like many treatises on art it remains far too academic. Talk about detachment. The book is nevertheless well written and clear. Ironically, a book which addresses the crisis in architecture that I could recommend would be Reinhold Martin's, 'The Organizational Complex'—a book very poorly written, but insightful. For a book about the phenomenological exploration on the beauty of space, Bachelard's 'Poetics of Space' will suffice.
OK, forget I said anything up until now. Let's say that the WEST HAS AN OPTICAL BIAS. Does this properly account for the poverty of architecture today? I was not swayed by Pallasmaa's argument. I'd say that what marks architecture these days is an offshoot of a control society, its attempt to control the senses and passions of its citizenry. Yes, this is distinctly alienating in a visual sense. Structures, though built, seem to tear at their surroundings, destroying context, insisting on shallow recognition of presence above all else. Pallasmaa is entirely correct when he states that,
"The narcissistic eye views architecture solely as a means of self-expression, and as an intellectual-artistic game detached from essential mental and societal connections [...] disengag[ing] the body, and instead of attempting to reconstruct cultural order, it makes a reading of collective signification impossible."
Pallasmaa goes on to say this this is a result of the essentially "detaching sense of vision", and that this nihilistic attitude would be impossible to imagine in a sense of touch. I just don't understand this. I think that an architectural project which seeks to either control by atomizing its inhabitants or merely flatter the self-expression of the architect will result in an isolation of ALL the senses. Surely our visual culture also suffers as a result.
Truly, the real danger is a reification of categories. In a society of mass produced space the entire cocktail of senses are reinforced and predictable. How is the visual significantly different? The search for instantaneity and immediate impact has withered all of our senses—but more importantly, it has reified categories of thinking which serve to quell the furnaces of imagination.
A proper architectural philosophy would, in my humble opinion, never operate out of context. It would be one which would inspire a creative/redemptive relationship with the past and an optimistic sense of the future. More than anything though, it would seek to address the needs of people with a belief in the integrity of the human spirit, rather than cynically attempting to control people or try to prevent societal variables. Architecture, more than anything, is these days either an exercise in paranoia or the self gratification of the designer. Rectifying this would surely be a great first step in creating an architecture 'for all the senses.'
I believe in the good intentions of this work! But like many treatises on art it remains far too academic. Talk about detachment. The book is nevertheless well written and clear. Ironically, a book which addresses the crisis in architecture that I could recommend would be Reinhold Martin's, 'The Organizational Complex'—a book very poorly written, but insightful. For a book about the phenomenological exploration on the beauty of space, Bachelard's 'Poetics of Space' will suffice.
June 19, 2022
در مجموع کتاب جذابی بود
اول از همه اسمش برام خیلی جذاب بود و بنظرم انتخاب خیلی هوشمندانه و جذابی رو داشته یوهانی پلاسما واقعا.
محتوای روانی نداشت اصلا یکی از دلایلش دقت در انتخاب واژه ها توسط مترجم بود که درواقع هدف یافتن نزدیک ترین مفهوم به کلمات منتخبی نویسنده بود و باید گفت بطور وسواس گونه ای این کار صورت گرفته بود و حتی توضیح دلیل انتخاب آن واژگان در پاورقی برام بسیار جالب بود ولی این حرکت بنظرم خطرناک هم بود و بیش ازحد انجام دادنش باعث سختی فهم متن می شد
نویسنده در هر دو صفحه حدودا یک کلمه جدید تولید و بیان می کنه که بغیر از تامل درمورد محتوا درگیر به یاد آوردن و درک درست واژه ی تولیدی هم هستیم و این خودش سختی متن رو دوچندان می کرد
در تلاش مترجم برای بیان مفهوم دقیق و نزدیک کلمات نویسنده شکی نیست ولی بنظرم میشد برای روانی بیشتر کل مطلب هم تلاش کرد
البته این ضعف متاسفانه تا حدود زیادی از لذت جذابیت موضوع و متن هم کاسته بود
موضوع کتاب کاملا با این قسمت از متن کتاب قابل فهم است:
دست ها می خواهند ببینند، چشم ها میخواهند نوازش کنند.
یوهان ولفگانگ فون گوته
اول از همه اسمش برام خیلی جذاب بود و بنظرم انتخاب خیلی هوشمندانه و جذابی رو داشته یوهانی پلاسما واقعا.
محتوای روانی نداشت اصلا یکی از دلایلش دقت در انتخاب واژه ها توسط مترجم بود که درواقع هدف یافتن نزدیک ترین مفهوم به کلمات منتخبی نویسنده بود و باید گفت بطور وسواس گونه ای این کار صورت گرفته بود و حتی توضیح دلیل انتخاب آن واژگان در پاورقی برام بسیار جالب بود ولی این حرکت بنظرم خطرناک هم بود و بیش ازحد انجام دادنش باعث سختی فهم متن می شد
نویسنده در هر دو صفحه حدودا یک کلمه جدید تولید و بیان می کنه که بغیر از تامل درمورد محتوا درگیر به یاد آوردن و درک درست واژه ی تولیدی هم هستیم و این خودش سختی متن رو دوچندان می کرد
در تلاش مترجم برای بیان مفهوم دقیق و نزدیک کلمات نویسنده شکی نیست ولی بنظرم میشد برای روانی بیشتر کل مطلب هم تلاش کرد
البته این ضعف متاسفانه تا حدود زیادی از لذت جذابیت موضوع و متن هم کاسته بود
موضوع کتاب کاملا با این قسمت از متن کتاب قابل فهم است:
دست ها می خواهند ببینند، چشم ها میخواهند نوازش کنند.
یوهان ولفگانگ فون گوته
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 21, 2023
I guess pure architectural phenomenology isn't fashionable anymore, but when reading this book I couldn't help but feel like I was coming home. Same response as when reading Zumthor, Ando, Bachelard -- everyone I've read who writes about the sensuous, embodied experience of space somehow manages to imbue their writing with that same rich, sensual, experiential quality.
I'd forgotten until now that Pallasmaa wrote what was probably the first architectural text I read ("An Architecture of the Seven Senses", the introductory assigned reading for a summer course I took in 2016). In retrospect this isn't surprising, because I can see how all of my architectural thinking so far has been deeply influenced by these ideas. Even as I now try to push myself towards a greater criticality towards the discipline, the bodily-experiential perspective (perspective!!!) feels True on some important, fundamental level.
I'd forgotten until now that Pallasmaa wrote what was probably the first architectural text I read ("An Architecture of the Seven Senses", the introductory assigned reading for a summer course I took in 2016). In retrospect this isn't surprising, because I can see how all of my architectural thinking so far has been deeply influenced by these ideas. Even as I now try to push myself towards a greater criticality towards the discipline, the bodily-experiential perspective (perspective!!!) feels True on some important, fundamental level.
November 19, 2022
Για όσους πιστεύουν ότι αρχιτεκτονική δεν σημαίνει μόνο βλέπω αλλά αγγίζω, ενεργοποιώ όλες μου τις αισθήσεις και αισθάνομαι.
Για όσους πιστεύουν ότι κτίρια δεν σημαίνει απλά εντυπωσιακός σχεδιασμός, (μεγάλα) ανοίγματα αλλά χώρος όπου ζεις και μπορείς να ενεργοποιήσεις τη μνήμη και τα όνειρα.
Για όλους αυτούς, υπάρχει (επιτέλους) αυτό το βιβλίο στα ελληνικά.
Για όσους πιστεύουν ότι κτίρια δεν σημαίνει απλά εντυπωσιακός σχεδιασμός, (μεγάλα) ανοίγματα αλλά χώρος όπου ζεις και μπορείς να ενεργοποιήσεις τη μνήμη και τα όνειρα.
Για όλους αυτούς, υπάρχει (επιτέλους) αυτό το βιβλίο στα ελληνικά.
October 4, 2016
http://arts.berkeley.edu/wp-content/u...
possible 5. beautiful.
possible 5. beautiful.
December 23, 2019
"معیار اصلی ارزیابی کیفیت های یک شهر آن است که فرد بتواند تصور کند در آن شهر عاشق شود."
May 3, 2022
El libro es un referente en el tema sobre la fenomenología en la arquitectura, en una nueva edición contiene la esencia de los textos originales anexando una biografía y algunas experiencias personales del autor que definió su acercamiento a la investigación, a la docencia y a la divulgación a través de conferencias. El libro se estructura en tres partes:
La primera parte está enfocada en crear está base teórica sobre el cuerpo y los sentidos, donde se desarrollan 9 temas: “Visión y conocimiento”, “crítica al oculocentrismo”, “el ojo narcisista y nihilista”, “el espacio oral versus espacio visual”, “arquitectura retiniana y la pérdida de la plasticidad”, “una arquitectura de imágenes de visuales”, “materialidad y tiempo”, “el rechazo de la ventana de Alberti” y “una visión y el equilibrio sensorial”. Donde se desarrolla todo el contenido teórico referido a la cultura visual en la que vivimos a través de los medios.
La segunda parte se enfoca en abordar una visión crítica sobre el impacto de la hipervisualidad en la arquitectura. Entender las interacciones entre el cuerpo, la mente y el entorno, y cómo algunas características del espacio como lo son la luz, la sombra, el sonido, el silencio, los materiales, la temperatura, la escala son esenciales en nuestra experiencia sensorial con la arquitectura en los espacios interiores, la cualidad de lo táctil sobre lo visual es algo a rescatar en una sociedad globalizada e hipervisual . A través de estas preocupaciones del autor y de arquitectos con lo que ha colaborado como Alberto Pérez-Gómez y de Steven Holl cuyas ideas sobre la falta de una visión fenomenológica en arquitectura es lo que hizo que estas actitudes, percepciones, reflexiones y observaciones fueran tan importantes rescatarlas y ponerlas en práctica desde la arquitectura en los últimos 30 años.
En la tercera parte se nos cuenta una biografía sobre el autor, abarcando desde su infancia, su años de estudio, los primeros años de su práctica profesional, sus años de experiencia laboral, reflexiones, y percepciones que fueron importantes en su obra escrita y arquitectónica. Sin lugar a dudas se trata de un libro destacable por los conceptos abordados y sobre todo por la amplia bibliografía que contiene libros de filosofía, antropología, arte, fenomenología, literatura e investigaciones sobre la visión y los sentidos corporales.
La primera parte está enfocada en crear está base teórica sobre el cuerpo y los sentidos, donde se desarrollan 9 temas: “Visión y conocimiento”, “crítica al oculocentrismo”, “el ojo narcisista y nihilista”, “el espacio oral versus espacio visual”, “arquitectura retiniana y la pérdida de la plasticidad”, “una arquitectura de imágenes de visuales”, “materialidad y tiempo”, “el rechazo de la ventana de Alberti” y “una visión y el equilibrio sensorial”. Donde se desarrolla todo el contenido teórico referido a la cultura visual en la que vivimos a través de los medios.
La segunda parte se enfoca en abordar una visión crítica sobre el impacto de la hipervisualidad en la arquitectura. Entender las interacciones entre el cuerpo, la mente y el entorno, y cómo algunas características del espacio como lo son la luz, la sombra, el sonido, el silencio, los materiales, la temperatura, la escala son esenciales en nuestra experiencia sensorial con la arquitectura en los espacios interiores, la cualidad de lo táctil sobre lo visual es algo a rescatar en una sociedad globalizada e hipervisual . A través de estas preocupaciones del autor y de arquitectos con lo que ha colaborado como Alberto Pérez-Gómez y de Steven Holl cuyas ideas sobre la falta de una visión fenomenológica en arquitectura es lo que hizo que estas actitudes, percepciones, reflexiones y observaciones fueran tan importantes rescatarlas y ponerlas en práctica desde la arquitectura en los últimos 30 años.
En la tercera parte se nos cuenta una biografía sobre el autor, abarcando desde su infancia, su años de estudio, los primeros años de su práctica profesional, sus años de experiencia laboral, reflexiones, y percepciones que fueron importantes en su obra escrita y arquitectónica. Sin lugar a dudas se trata de un libro destacable por los conceptos abordados y sobre todo por la amplia bibliografía que contiene libros de filosofía, antropología, arte, fenomenología, literatura e investigaciones sobre la visión y los sentidos corporales.
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May 13, 2024 "My body is truly the navel of my world,
not in the sense of the viewing point of the central perspective, but as the very locus of reference, memory, imagination and integration."
"How much more exciting and inviting is the street of an old town with its alternating realms of darkness and light than are the brightly and evenly lit streets of today! The imagination and daydreaming are stimulated by dim light and shadow. In order to think clearly, the sharpness of vision has to be suppressed, for thoughts travel with an absent-minded and unfocused gaze."
pretty cool pretty interesting
not in the sense of the viewing point of the central perspective, but as the very locus of reference, memory, imagination and integration."
"How much more exciting and inviting is the street of an old town with its alternating realms of darkness and light than are the brightly and evenly lit streets of today! The imagination and daydreaming are stimulated by dim light and shadow. In order to think clearly, the sharpness of vision has to be suppressed, for thoughts travel with an absent-minded and unfocused gaze."
pretty cool pretty interesting
April 16, 2021
The book manages to convincingly formulate both a critique towards vision-centered architecture and a defense of multi-sensory approach towards architecture. In that it is certainly interesting and worth reading. However to be fair, there is quite an overlap between this book and the Thinking Hand and even in itself is often repetitive. Overall, while The Eyes of the Skin are easier to read, The Thinking Hand provides a bit more research supporting his views.
September 21, 2021
Duyular üzerinden mimarlığı okuma çabası çok iyiydi yazarın. Tez olmasının getirdiği bir şey olarak çok fazla örnek ve araştırma sunmuş. Genel olarak okuması keyifliydi.
Gelelim görme ve diğer duyuları karşılaştırma kısmına. Sürekli olarak gözü yermeye ve diğer duyuları övmeye çalışması garipti (1 puanı buradan kırdım. Biraz da Tr kapağı çok kötü ondan). Mimari yapıların görme duyusu temel alınarak yapıldığı bir çağda yaşadığımız konusunda haklı biraz ama kendisi de örnek verirken hep görme üzerinden örnekler vermiş. Bu kısmı değişikti. Ama genel olarak duyular ile mimarlık ilişkisini anlatma şekli iyiydi.
Mimarlıkla ilgili okuma yapacaklara tavsiye edilebilir. Giriş seviyesi için iyi bir kitap.
Gelelim görme ve diğer duyuları karşılaştırma kısmına. Sürekli olarak gözü yermeye ve diğer duyuları övmeye çalışması garipti (1 puanı buradan kırdım. Biraz da Tr kapağı çok kötü ondan). Mimari yapıların görme duyusu temel alınarak yapıldığı bir çağda yaşadığımız konusunda haklı biraz ama kendisi de örnek verirken hep görme üzerinden örnekler vermiş. Bu kısmı değişikti. Ama genel olarak duyular ile mimarlık ilişkisini anlatma şekli iyiydi.
Mimarlıkla ilgili okuma yapacaklara tavsiye edilebilir. Giriş seviyesi için iyi bir kitap.
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