Intuition to Dwell

Last term, I taught architectural design studio in which students were challenged to create personal space for themselves. Piece of cake, as we all have innate spatial ability as discussed in this previous posting – right? But as it turned out, not many students could create space that was in the least comfortable. I tried to go in and out of some of their constructions, and I could have broken or hurt my neck or other parts of my body if I weren’t mindful.

So why is it, while human ability to gauge and utilize space is innate, yet, most architectural students (at least those I’ve worked with) are having a hard time creating space?

Several possible reasons, but I’ll start with one: the lack of trust in the realm of our intuition. When we learn about a subject matter in university, suddenly the subject we’re interested in becomes a discipline with fields of “experts” that we consider know better about the discipline. The theories, lectures and discussions - some of which we may understand, but more often make us feel even more incompetent - overwhelmed our senses. The result is the lack of trust in what we see, what we feel, what we hear, what we touch, what we taste. We lose our intuition, our innate human ability, and belief in self.

That’s the reason why I am fascinated by construction of space created by traditional communities, by those living in adverse conditions, by those who adapted spaces and constructions of every day life to fit their needs. Through them, we are reminded why space is designed in the first place: to shelter and comfort our body. To be our third skin. Apart from that, these type of constructions are most likely constrained by available materials, by their surroundings (the site), and therefore attempt to create the most optimal solution for the problem.

The child in this photograph could have slept in many other places other than in the cart. Yet, the cart was the optimal solution for the problem. The cart raised the child’s body from the asphalt road – removed her from heated asphalt and dirt, from being accidentally trampled on, and from being awakened by animals that might have wondered by her. The cardboard box provided her with added cushion to support and comfort her sleeping body. And she can still be supervised by an adult who brought her there in the first place. The most optimal solution for taking a nap in public place.

A classic book in this topic is “Architecture without Architects” by Bernard Rudofsky.