Atlantis Magazine 34.2 Heterotopia

Atlantis Magazine

#34.2

Heterotopia

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Atlantis is an explorative magazine for urbanism and landscape architecture from the POLIS student association at TU Delft.

This year, we dedicate our 34th volume to the exploration of -topias.

While the word itself refers to a physical place (Greek τόπος) it has since evolved to encompass the imaginative constructs that different thinkers have formulated by theoretically shaping and reshaping ideas of place and society. Expressions like utopia, dystopia, ecotopia, and digitopia have long been a part of the lexicon of social philosophy, but are also commonly used as critical methods within design theory. Choosing the theme of -topias as the foundational framework for the discussions in this year’s issues, we aim to explore the different perspectives on space through the lense of three -topias:

Atopia

Heterotopia

Utopia

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#34.2

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The cover graphic for this booklet is a merge of all the visual works from our authors.

The cover is created by Johanna Zehntner, Anmol Bhargava & Gosia Rybak.

Image on the right: from the series “Heterotopia” by Loïc Vendrame (2021).

Contents

Editorial foreword p. 4-5 Gregory Bracken

Is It or Isn’t it? p. 6-9 Loïc Vendrame

Heterotopia p. 10-15

Shahzeb Khan & Hammad Ahsan

The Unfamiliar Oddity of Waiting Spaces p. 32-37

The “Other” Threshold p. 38-41

Algirdas Ramonas

Heterotopias of Intolerance p. 62-67

Where to Place the Scars for These Wounds? p. 16-21

An Apartheid, Planned p. 22-27

Inês Francisca Oliveira

Heterotopic Narratives from Trás-os-Montes p. 42-47 In conversation with Poligonal

Queering the Status-Quo p. 48-55

Nima Tabrizi

The Story of a Liminal Metal City p. 28-31

The Duality of Heterotopias p. 56-61

Marina Kostaki & Smyrnaiou Efi

Elena Mataix Caballero with Carlota Garcia

Vera Vince & Feike Smithuis, with Léopold Lambert

Małgorzata Rybak

Olgu Çalışkan

From Theory to Design p. 68-75 Tarini Vajpeyi

Heterotopias of Stasis p. 76-83 Ashish Dalal

A Place for Water p. 84-85 Sérgio Barreiros Proença, Cristiana Valente Monteiro & Francesca Dal Cin

City of Cloth p. 86-93 Author biographies p. 94-96

Dear Readers, We are thrilled to present Issue 34.2 of Atlantis Magazine, a curated collection of essays, visual narratives, and critical explorations that delve into Michel Foucault’s concept of heterotopias. These are spaces of otherness that coexist with our familiar environments, yet operate under their own unique set of rules, reflecting, inverting, or contesting the norms of society.

Gregory Bracken opens our exploration by laying out Foucault’s principles of heterotopias, offering insights into identifying these unique spaces within our social fabric. Loïc Vendrame’s photographic journey through Ankara examines the city’s peripheral landscapes as sites of neoliberal transformation, revealing layers of heterotopic spaces.

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Elena Mataix Caballero articulates the border as a living wound, a space of continuous opening and scarring that challenges the very notion of separation and connection. Our own Vera Vince and Feike Smithuis reflect on the work and teach-in presentation of The Funambulist’s editor Léopold Lambert, critically examining spatial design’s complicity in systemic oppression, using Israeli apartheid practices as a case study to illuminate the creation of separate heterotopias. Nima Tabrizi’s narrative of the MS Galaxy, a former luxury cruise ship turned asylum, presents a compelling story of liminality and contradiction within the heart of Amsterdam. Shazeb Khan and Hammad Ahsan offer an intriguing look at the mundane yet oddly heterotopic spaces of transition, such as subway stations, revealing their capacity to unsettle and redefine our sense of place.

Marina Kostaki and Smyrnaiou Efi’s collaborative work investigates the photographic juxtapositions of Mario Giacomelli and Ger Dekkers, exploring the visual and spatial dynamics of heterotopias as thresholds between worlds.

Ines Francisca Oliveira’s essay on Trás-os-Montes brings a deeply personal perspective to the concept, intertwining memory, landscape, and the notion of spaces that transcend traditional architectural discourse.

Our issue also features an engaging conversation with POLIGONAL on “Queering the Status-Quo,” which discusses the transformative potential of queer spaces and practices in challenging normative urban structures.

Małgorzata Rybak addresses the duality of heterotopias in Poland, juxtaposing LGBT-free zones against queer spaces to highlight the contentious interplay of inclusion and exclusion. We showcase Algirdas Ramonas’ thesis, looking to heterotopias of intolerance and exploring their relationship to sociatal conditions and issues.

Olgu Çalışkan transitions from theory to design, suggesting ways in which heterotopian principles can inform urban planning and architecture, fostering spaces of diversity and pluralism. Tarini Vajpeyi’s “Heterotopia of Stasis” invites us to reimagine the future of post-industrial landscapes as sites of pause and reflection, challenging the relentless pace of urbanization. Ashish Dalal’s visual represenation of India’s water systems presents them as sacred yet neglected heterotopias, urging a reevaluation of their cultural and practical significance.

Sérgio Barreiros Proença, Cristiana Valente Monteiro, and Francesca Dal Cin explore the dynamic intertidal spaces of Sesimbra, Portugal, through interpretative drawing, uncovering the ephemeral forms of human interaction with the coastal landscape.

As we navigate these diverse explorations of heterotopias, we are also acutely aware of the current events unfolding in Gaza, as well as the ongoing war in Ukraine. In times of conflict, spaces of otherness take on new meanings, reminding us of the urgent need for solidarity, understanding, and action. Our thoughts are with all those affected, and we commit to fostering discussions that not only reflect on theoretical concepts but also engage with the pressing realities of our world.

We invite you to join us on this journey through the spaces of otherness, to engage with the ideas and challenges presented by our contributors, and to reflect on the heterotopias that exist within and around us.

With hope and solidarity,

The Atlantis Editorial Team

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Is It or Isn’t it?

Six Principles for Identifying a Heterotopia (1984) Gregory Bracken

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French philosopher Michel Foucault first mentioned heterotopia in a lecture to architects in 1967. Up to this time it had been a medical term (one also used in biology and zoology). It denoted the presence of unusual tissue that can co-exist with normal tissue in a body; the heterotopic tissue shouldn’t be there but it does no harm. Foucault applied this term to ‘those singular spaces to be found in some given social spaces whose functions are different or even the opposite of others’ (Foucault, 1991). Places that contain layers of meaning or relationships that aren’t immediately obvious.

Fig. 1: Michel Foucault

The heterotopia is not particularly representative of Foucault’s work and remained something of an afterthought. The concept was eventually published in an article, ‘Des espaces autres’ (other spaces), in Architecture/Mouvement/ Continuité in 1984. This also happened to be the year of Foucault’s premature death, which may account for why he never developed or clarified the concept further. It certainly lacks the scholarly rigour of his investigations into madness, sexuality, and power. Most theoretical commentators barely acknowledge its existence.

Most architects and urbanists, however, seem to focus on little else. I’ve seen many students over the years, both in Architecture and Urbanism, who have attempted to use this concept in their work – and why wouldn’t they? it’s so beguiling, so intriguing. Some get it right, to be sure, but quite a few have fallen into the trap of attaching it as a sort of label to places they don’t fully understand. While some of these places do indeed show differences to their surroundings, they lack that essential ingredient of Otherness which sets the true heterotopia apart.

Foucault related the heterotopia to the utopia, a site with no real place. This was a well-established concept in Western literature. Utopia literally means ‘no place’ in Greek and was the title of Thomas More’s famous book of 1516.

More himself was tapping into a long tradition of thinkers who used idealised mythical places as a mirror to show up contemporary shortcomings.

The most famous is perhaps in Plato’s Timaeus and Critias (2008), where Critias describes the lost civilisation of this magazine’s namesake, Atlantis. Clearly intended as a cautionary tale to Athens, it has spawned crackpot theories ever since.

The heterotopia, on the other hand, is a place which does exist. It is the physical representation or approximation of the utopia; a parallel space that makes real utopian space possible. Foucault gives the examples of hospitals, prisons, and schools as places that contain undesirables with the aim of altering them (curing the ill; reforming the criminal; educating the ignorant) so that they can (re)take their place in society.

The link between utopia and heterotopia is illustrated by Foucault using the mirror, where the image reflected is a utopia because it shows a placeless place, an unreal virtuality that allows viewers to see themselves. The mirror is, however, also a heterotopia because it is a real thing.

The heterotopia of the mirror is at one and the same time absolutely real (because it relates to the real space surrounding it) and absolutely unreal (by creating a virtual image). You can see why some of us might have difficulty with the concept. Fortunately, Foucault outlines six principles (or types) of heterotopia, with examples showing how different spaces can contain this dual meaning.

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Six principles of the heterotopia

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The first type is the crisis heterotopia, where people are kept away from society while undergoing change. We saw the school mentioned above. Foucault specifically means the boarding school, but really any kind of school (or university) will do. He also mentions the military barracks. Both of these spaces were for men in the nineteenth century, the era he takes his examples from; for women, he suggests the honeymoon. All three are places where people undergo change (adolescence, losing virginity), so removing them from society as they undergo these changes preserves its stability.

Foucault sees crisis heterotopias increasingly being replaced by heterotopias of deviation: institutions for people whose behaviour falls more permanently outside of society’s norms, e.g., asylums, retirement homes, and prisons.

People can go there to get better (physically or morally) but they might also be kept out of circulation if they can’t be cured – this relates to his work on madness and sexuality and the question of who gets to define what is ‘normal’ in society. The Enlightenment was an era in which the differently abled or sexually diverse were simply locked up: ‘madness’ was not tolerated in the Age of Reason.

Society’s attitude to death informs the second principle, which states that a heterotopia can change function over time. Here Foucault gives the example of the cemetery and (Western) society’s changing attitudes to death, depending on religious or scientific views.

A heterotopia can also be a place which juxtaposes several spaces. Here he cites the theatre and garden (and, oddly, the carpet – but he links this to the carpet’s garden-like capacity for gath-

ering visual elements). The theatre and garden are, however, real spaces that act as microcosms representing the world and its variety.

The fourth principle is linked to what he calls ‘slices of time’. These are heterotopias that enclose objects from all times and styles, like a museum or library. They exist in time but are also outside of it because they’re intended to withstand the ravages of time so as to preserve the things that are most important to society.

The fifth principle is that heterotopias always presuppose systems of opening and closing.

These isolate them yet also make them accessible; spaces that can be visited, even if they’re not freely accessible to the public. Entry to some, like the prison or barracks, is compulsory. There are also heterotopias dedicated to purification, like the hammam or sauna, with rituals that are religious, hygienic, or both.

Finally, the heterotopia can be 1) a space of illusion that feels more real than surrounding reality (here he gives the example of the brothel) or 2) a space of compensation; tidy and meticulous, a reaction to the messy space it seeks to distance itself from (like a religious colony). These are two extreme types of heterotopia.

Foucault ends his article by citing the ship as the ‘heterotopia par excellence’. It is a floating piece of space, a place without a place, closed in on itself. Echoing his concern for the downtrodden and the Other which informs so much of his work, Foucault says that a civilisation without ships is inherently repressive. Society needs heterotopias, not only as spaces for the affirmation of difference, but also as a way of escaping authoritarianism and repression.

Fig. 2: The author’s boarding School, Newbridge College in Ireland

Applying the concept It is interesting, given the political climate in the Netherlands at the time of writing – when Geert Wilders’ Partij voor de Vrijheid has just romped to victory in the recent general election on a xenophobic platform of anti-refugee rhetoric – that one of the country’s recent strategies for dealing with refugees (the very issue which also brought down the last government) has been to house them in old cruise ships. This is Foucault’s heterotopia par excellence. An old cruise ship crammed with the displaced and disenfranchised, a ship going nowhere, bottling up those who are different, who do not (yet) belong. Who, given the current political climate, may never get to belong. Sadly, this is a modern-day reincarnation of an age-old strategy, like the Jewish ghetto in Venice (which was instituted in 1516, the same year Thomas More’s Utopia was published).

If you’re interested in the heterotopia, or think you can apply it to places you’re studying, then you need to check it very carefully. First of all, read Foucault’s article (and also some other commentators, such as Paul Rabinow (1991), Gary Gutting (2006), or David Grahame Shane

(2005)). Just because your place contains people or spaces (or both) that seem different from their surroundings does not make it a heterotopia. You need to check that it is a space of Otherness, not merely difference.

Otherness is real opposition to the norms of society. The City of London, Zhongnanhai in Beijing, or Beverly Hills are not heterotopias, they are spaces of difference because they house people who are richer or more powerful (or both) than the rest of society, but these are what I would call ‘apex enclaves’ (developing Shane’s concept of the enclave). They’re different, they’re hard to get into, but they are places where the real power and wealth resides; they are at the top of their respective societies, financially, politically, and/or culturally. That makes them different, but not Other. They are, in fact, the very opposite of Other since they are at the apex of their given systems and have the power to change their societies. Remember, a heterotopia is a place where people are different but not powerful.

Finally, once you’ve identified a place with real potential, then simply go through Foucault’s six principles to see if you’re right. Good luck!

Fig. 3: Cruise ship as refugee accommodation in the Netherlands

References and figures: Foucault, M. (1984). Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias (trans. Jay Miskowiec), Architecture/Mouvement/ Continuité. https://web.mit.edu/allanmc/www/foucault1.pdf Foucault, M. (1991). ‘Space, Knowledge and Power’ in Paul Rabinow (ed.) The Foucault Reader: An Introduction to Foucault’s Thoughts. Penguin Books, p.252.

Gutting, G. (ed.). (2006). The Cambridge Companion to Foucault. Cambridge University Press.

Plato (2008). Timaeus and Critias (trans.

Desmond Lee). Penguin Classics.

Body-and_Image-Space_ReReading_Walter_Benjamin/figures?lo=1)

Rabinow, P. (ed.). (1991). The Foucault Reader: An Introduction to Foucault’s Thoughts. Penguin Books.

Fig. 2: The author’s boarding School, Newbridge College in Ireland (https:// www.flickr.com/photos/infomatique/8317170085).

Shane, D.G. (2005). Recombinant Urbanism: Conceptual Modeling in Architecture, Urban Design, and City Theory.

John Wiley and Sons.

Fig. 1: Michel Foucault (https://www.researchgate.net/publication/245588413_

Fig. 3: Cruise ship as refugee accommodation in the Netherlands (https://www. anews.com.tr/world/2023/08/09/ cruise-ship-to-become-refugeeaccommodation-in-the-netherlands).

Heterotopia Loïc Vendrame

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Contemporary metropolises have become a reflection of the policies and globalized economies that shape our world. These territories are often marked by paradoxes, both fragmented and homogeneous, segregated and standardized.

Heterotopia is a project carried out in 2021 in the Turkish capital Ankara, exploring its peripheral landscape.

It documents how neo-liberalism and the concept of heterotropia, developed by the philosopher Michel Foucault, structure the geographical margins, and how these heterotopic spaces and identities can be appropriated.

Ankara is in constant mutation. With more than 5 million inhabitants, the neoliberal development of the city in recent decades has led to significant changes in its urban landscapes, underpinned by rapid, if not uncontrolled, urbanization. Privatization and economic liberalization have favored the construction of new buildings, shopping centers, infrastructure, and luxury housing, which have significantly altered the morphology of the city.

Fig. 1-4: Series “Heterotopia” (2021) by Loic Vendrame.

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Fig. 1: Modern Europe is knitted with the yarn of expendable, super-exploitable and mobile labor force.

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Where to Place the Scars for These Wounds?

Elena Mataix Caballero Visual Artist: Lotraca

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The border is the wound. A wound deliberately opened with the warmth of power; of consciously enacted institutional violence. The border is the wound, a fresh cut. A wound that is not revealed by an incident, a fall, a trip. A wound that is not private because it creaks as it opens; and all that creaks produces cracks. These cracks become a groan that opens in the body as a warning: it finds ways of shouting, of crying, of complaining.

Of translating indignation into collective struggles. Of becoming political. Where to place the scars for these wounds?

To say that the border is the wound, is to make the border an actor; to wrest it from its supposed rigidity. It is to turn the border inside out, to place it where it should not belong, to speak of it from where it is felt; in the body, where it becomes an active intensifier of counter -social, -laboral, -economic, -political and -cultural dynamics. A heterotopia.

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This text explores a specific form of crack; a (counter)social enactment that arises from within a supposedly rigid and controlled infrastructure: European nation-state borders. Through an understanding of social space beyond the organization and instrumentalization of a presumed totality, I claim that migration infrastructures that attempt to control, police, and surveil, are at all times already broken; their impermeability does not prevent the opening of leakages (Moraña, 2021, p.49). Aren’t we, the dissidents, always already here?

In this way, I am reminded by Gilroy (1993) as he talks about the black Atlantic, that borders in which migration emanates are not solely material spaces that enact slavery, exploitation and racial terror. They are also active founders of countercultures of resistance; of encounters with heterotopias (Gilroy, 1993, as cited in Danewid, 2022, p.167). “Where does one see migration taking place?” ask Schinkel and van Reekum in their study on the dominant narratives of border visualization (2017, p.1). “Where does one see migration finding refuge and fugitivity?”

I ask, as a response to these authors´s inquiry on how and where the visualization of borders “might interfere with, or be disrupted by, other visualities of human mobility” (p.47). “Within the leakings of the pre-supposed spatial totality of order?” I reply.

‘Where does one see migration taking place?’

In the borderlines Thinking of borders from a European context implies the visualization of barbed wire, fenced posts, and colossal walls. It implies a conceptualization of people on the move. Of passive flows of bodies crossing. Of data and statistical figures. It implies an imaginary in which ‘the border’ acquires an irrefutable consistency

and physicality: an absolute of inclusion and exclusion. The conversation has already been structured, it has always already taken place.

The images have already been taken, they have always already been captured.

The success of the anti-immigration discourse and the militarization of frontier Europe, lies in part in its assimilation within a realm that could be considered as pre-political (Mezzandra & Neilson, 2013, p.265). When in the Netherlands, Wilders poses the question: “what are we going to do with the problem of Islam in our country;” in Spain, Abascal asks what we can do with those that “assault our frontiers and install panic in our streets”; in France, Le Pain queries about “the progressive Islamisation of our country, which is calling into question the survival of our civilisation;” in Italy, Salvini requests the police for “a controlled and financed ethnic cleansing;” ‘borders’ and ‘migration’ have become a pre-political problem. Categorized in its naturalization, it is now an obvious threat that can solely be resolved through changes to the security that frontier infrastructure creates (Riveiro & Castro, 2021, 6; ilManifesto, 2016, 2; Velasco & Rodríquez-Alarcón, 2019, p.19).

What we encounter is a comprehension of fron-

Despite these examples coming from right-wing politics, the demand for strict border closures is evermore present in all sides of the European political spectrum. What was once enclosed in fascist and extreme right wing narratives, finds today an ample support in the social democratic left (Danewid, 2022, p.163). tiers and globalization as a ‘zero sum game;’ where the wins of one depend on the loss of the other (p.164). The threat of this discourse of competition and individuation, as false and idiotic as it is, requires an urgency to engage differently within the epistemology of borders because we urgently require new narratives (Velasco & Rodríquez-Alarcón, 2019, p.19). We must engage with all that is leaking from the dominant understanding of migration control, as well as all that escapes its policing. In this way, that there are over 260 million international migrants in the world at the time of writing this

Fig. 2: During the hunger strikes at Yarl´s Wood migrant detention center, people locked in the center made banners with clothes and bed sheets and hanged them from their rooms so that they could be seen.

text, should not conclude that frontiers are not working properly; it should contest their rigidity.

An opening to fugitive spaces that display the complex relations that power, functions and discourses constitute.

If we then stand on the streets, disrupt space, and shout: “abolish Frontex,” we must embrace a commitment to bodies that cross and are crossed by borders: bodies turned into migrants.

The epistemological cannot be distanced from the ontological, from the physical reality of the knowledge embodied in the bodies that are bordered. This requires taking seriously that racial capitalism sustains itself on gears of chains of devaluation; devaluing of consciousness, histories, relations and labor power (Velasco & Rodríquez-Alarcón, 2019, p.19). It demands one to move the attention to those spaces that contest these relations through countercultural forms of resistance (Gilroy,1993, p.38). When we focus on this, and depart from it as a point of analysis, there is a potential to confuse the European call for integration, moving towards the roar for abolition. A turn from the idea of reform to a project of construction: to dismantle and create.

‘Where does one see migration finding refuge Between that which leaks and fugitivity?’ All forms of power constitute “specific strategies of appropriation, distribution and use of space, through which power assures the perpetuation of social and moral stratifications” (Moraña, 2021, p.55). As creators of heterotopias, borders are territories that escape the geographic organization of

power, becoming areas of dissonance. They dwell alternative and hybrid relations, that being in counter-off are also regulated and manifested through the totality that contains them. Distinct from utopias, the potential of heterotopias lies in their mediating processes, being already in the futurity of disruption. This shows something crucial: that things can be otherwise.

Understanding borders in this way generates a new dimension to their spatiality; dispersing history itself as it resignifies it. In their genealogy, borders are not water taps that control flows of people. Borders generate and naturalize colonial systems built over extraction and exploitation (Danewid, 2022, p.175). Modern Europe is knitted with the yarn of an expendable, super-exploitable and mobile labor force. With its peak after 1945, the progressive disaccreditation of older forms of direct colonial control required renewed forms to ‘legitimately’ sustain global dynamics of power (ibid, p.176). What was once enslaved labor, what then became exploitable living labor, and what are now outsourced and dispensable working hands, maintain a system of continued - but distant - colonial extraction. 83% of the workforce of the manufacturing industry lives and works outside the enclosed borders of the global north. While within the confinements of these, those crossed by borders are turned into cheap and dispensable working hands (ibid, p.168). Many authors have presented this colonial history, and without comprehending it, we cannot talk about migration today (Mayblin & Turner, 2021; Anzaldúa, 1987; Fanon, 1959, 1961).

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As Anzaldúa reminds us, the border is a wound that opens the colonial and imperialist histories that still cut in the present: “the blood spilled from the colonies rises”.

(Moraña, 2021, p.463)

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To write from here against borders and racism requires carving away from European and state-centric discourses of integration and assistentialism. Leaving behind the recital of ‘oh, poor migrants,’ because pettiness only positions one far from the struggle (Lara, Sánchez, Richard & Delgado, 2022, pp.20-21). Where we find the potential for action is within the spaces that are already - and have always been - contesting domination; heterotopias that are enacted at the border, but that extend at all times from it. In the case of migrant detention centers, for example, their heterotopic enactment actualizes as a molder of social relations. What leaks from the infrastructural attempts to control, is the creation of settings where people can encounter each other. Creating the possibility of denouncing and activating; of organizing and collectively declaring: ‘we do not want this anymore’.

How does this take place? Migrant detention centers place bodies at the border. They disrupt the presumed social totality by obstructing regular norms and rights. In Italy, detention center companies save up to one and a half million pounds per year as they can legally exploit the labor force of those detained, who work within the center as cleaners, cooks, or caretakers for one euro per day (Danewid, 2022, p.177). In Germany, thousands of asylum seeking detainees have been given the so-called ‘one euro contracts.’ One euro an hour contracts which, mediated by the government, allow companies to hire workers for dispensable tasks. These are no exceptions, they represent the creation of a greater market of hyper-exploited and super vigilated living labor through border structures.

However, what is of interest is how these same structures can configure a spatial possibility of breaking from the naturalization of these conditions. What must be propelled are those moments in which detention centers become the breeding ground of the antiracist and migrant rights struggles. Where their spatiality and their infrastructured congregation opens up the possibility of encounter. In the UK, despite having the greatest detention system of Europe, and around 30,000 people confined each year, we have seen incredibly strong antiracist strikes and riots within detention centers (ibid, p.176-181).

Fig. 3: Follow the Leaders, by Isaac Cordal. An artistic intervention portraying the leaders of Europe walking around a city in which they observe the collateral damage of their policies and decisions. Exhibited at the Bilbao Art District.

An example of this are the #HungerForFreedom strikes at Yarl’s Wood detention center, where detainees, sharing demands on paper notes around dinner tables and encountering support of antiracist and migrant organizations, began a hunger strike for freedom and against indefinite detention (ibid p.180). The truth is that today Yarl´s Wood is still running, and UK migration policies only keep getting stricter. However, this is one of the many cases that demonstrate that there is a lot that escapes control: that borders are not rigid structures of separation, they are moldable because they mold those that cross through them. What can happen if we keep building on this history of resistance and turn the study of frontiers into attempts to propel the struggles at the border?

truly engage with decoloniality as a practice and not a metaphor; perhaps it will be possible to grasp the reductionist dogmas of development and reform.

From there, the search for spaces that untangle and reframe social relations becomes crucial for survival. Keep opening the cracks. What happens in the heterotopia? Create further spaces of leakage; show that there is always too much that will escape. This is not an academic argument: it must be done with the urgency and action that is begged from our bodies and the territories that hold them, which are screaming and agonizing in their illness.

If the border is the wound, let the scars contest the warmth of power from that which has already found its way to leak.

Conclusion A social imaginary that is aggressive and forgetful is polluting all narratives. ‘Never will the master’s tools dismantle the master’s house’, said Audre Lorde (1984, p.110). Perhaps it is therefore an obvious step to abandon the language of the state; a language that domesticates imagination. Perhaps, if the complexities that come from moving within the wounds that cut the present are sustained and understood; if we

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References: Anzaldúa, G. (1987). Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza. Aunt Lute Books.

etnica contro gli immigrati”. quotidiano. https://ilmanifesto.it/salvini-pulizia-etnica-contro-gli-immigrati.

abolishfrontex (2023). Abolish Frontex.

What is Frontex? https://abolishfrontex. org/frontex/

Lara, R.P., Sánchez, C.C., Richard, A.C., Delgado, A.R. (2022). Biosindicalismo desde los territorios Domésticos. La Laboratoria

brown, a.m., (2023). The border is the wound. adrienne maree brown. https:// adriennemareebrown.net/ Danewid, I. (2022). “Estos muros tienen que caer:” el mediterráneo negro y la política de la abolición. In The Black Mediterranean Collective; Mediterráneo Negro, cuerpos, fronteras y ciudadanía.

Lorde A. (1984). The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.

In Sister outsider (pp. 110–113). Sister Visions Press. (Original work published 1979) Mayblin, L., Turner, J. (2021). Migration Studies and Colonialism. Polity Press

Fanon, F. (1959). A dying colonialism.

Atlantic Inc.

Mezzadra, S., Neilson, B. (2013). Border as method, or, the multiplication of labor. Duke University Press.

Fanon, F. (1961). The Wretched of the Earth. Penguin Classics.

Moraña, M. (2021). Líneas de Fuga.

Iberoamericana

ilManifesto. (2016). Salvini: “Pulizia

Riveiro, A., Castro, I. (2021). Abascal eleva su discurso xenófobo y señala

a las personas migrantes como los “enemigos de España.” elDiario.es. https://www.eldiario.es/politica/ abascal-eleva-discurso-xenofobo-senala-personas-migrantes-enemigos-espana_1_8303726.html Schinkel, W., van Reekum, R. (2017).

Drawing Lines, Enacting Migration: Visual Prostheses of Bordering Europe. Public Culture Essays. Duke University Press.

The Black Mediterranean Collective.

(2022). Mediterráneo Negro, cuerpos, fronteras y ciudadanía. Katakrak Liburuak.

Velasco, V., Rodríquez-Alarcón, L. (2019). Nuevas narrativas migratorias para reemplazar el discurso del odio.

PorCausa. https://porcausa.org/ wp-content/uploads/2020/02/Dossier_Nuevas-Narrativas-para-reemplazar-el-discurso-del-odio.pdf

An Apartheid, Planned A Visual Journey Through the Controlled Landscapes of the West Bank Images and quotes by Léopold Lambert Words by Vera Vince and Feike Smithuis

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One of the first things we are taught as spatial designers is how to create a separation. An inside or outside wall, with which we can control different conditions of human existence - accessibility, climate, comfort, behaviour, etc. Secondly, the theoretical basis that we claim underpins our design and planning practices is used to come across as ‘radical’. To then not discuss the collaboration of our profession in the application of our design methods in the systematic oppression of an entire group would be cowardly.

We believe it is our responsibility to recognize that these tools and theories are used for control.

Their application makes us, their authors, complicit in their outcomes. We pose that our profession requires a greater recognition of ownership and causality of our actions within larger patterns of spatial violence. An example we wish to discuss today is that of the Israeli apartheid practices in occupied Palestinian territories.

B´Tselem (2013, p. 96) concluded that “the Civil Administration (planning overseer) exploits its sole control of the planning process”, not allowing homes to be built, water sources used and agriculture broken up by Israeli settlements in a deliberate attempt to harm the Palestinian population.

Link to the Teachin by Léopold Lambert: “The Architecture of Settler Colonialism in Palestine”

SINAI

Occupied by the Israeli army from 1967 to 1982 Al Awda

Rafah

(indifinetly closed)

RAFAH KHAN YUNIS

Deir al Balah

66,000 refugees

24,000 refugees

AL QILA’I

UJA AL HAFEER

GAZA

ABU SITTEH

Al Bureij

34,000 refugees

SHEIKH NURAN

AL OMOUR

Ash Shati’

JABALIA

AL ZRAIYE

ABU SHALHOUB

6 NAUTICAL MILE FISHING LIMIT ENFORCED BY THE ISRAELI NAVY

21,000 refugees

DEIR AL BALAH An Nuseirat

Al Maghazi

NABAAT

Nitzana

Khan Yunis 72,000 refugees

GAZA

ABU GHALYUN

BEIT LAHIA Jabalia

Nahal Oz

(closed since 2010)

BEIT HANOUN

ABU KHALASA

Erez

SDEROT

LEGEND /// Area formerly occupied and under Israeli military rule Area currently occupied and under Israeli military rule

AL KHISAS

MAJDAH - ASHKELON

AL JIYYA

AL MUHARRAQA ABU ATHERA

Israeli colony in the West Bank

NAJD

RAWASHDEH

SIMSIM

UROUR

OFAKIM

BAYT JIRJA

ISDUD - ASHDOD

AL MAJDAL ASQALAN

HUJ BURAYR

BDINAT

ABU YEHYA

AL JURA

BARBARA

HIRIBYA NI’ILYA BAYT JIRJA

NETIVOT ABU ABDOUN

ABU GHALION MASOUDIYEEN

ABU GHALYUN

MEDITERRANEAN SEA

110,000 refugees

SUBHIYEEN AZAZEMA

NORTH >>>

87,000 refugees

Karni

(closed since 2007)

ABU SOUSAIN

Israeli military checkpoint Palestinian village evicted and destroyed by Israel in 1948

GHAWALI

TARABIN AL BATIL

RAHAT

ARAB AL ASIYAT

AL ARAQIB

BIN SABBAH

AL MSA’ADIYYAH

SHAQIB AL-SALAM

TEL AS-SABI

RAMADEEN

AL QUBAYBA

MUGHALLIS

HIRAN BAT AS SARAY’IH

AS SIRRAH

SHLALYEEN

AL BAT KUHLIH

ABU JUWAYED

AS SDIR

KSEIFA AL GAZZAH

Beit ‘Awwa

AD DHAHIRIYA Fawwar DURA

SURIF

Efrat HEBRON HALHUL YATA 8,000 settlers Kiryat Arba Arroub Beit Yatir 8,000 settlers

10,000 refugees

13,000 refugees

AREA A-B

JANABIB

AREA C

Fig. 1: Architecture of Settler Colonialism in Palestine. Map by Léopold Lambert (2014, with an update in 2018).

ALLAR

KASLA

AQQUR

AL TANNUR

BAYT SAQIYA

DAYR AL SHAYKH AL LAWZ

Wadi Fukin

SATAF AL QABU

Efrat

Tunnels

Gilo

Aida

11,000 refugees

ABU DIS

Bet El DCO

‘Atara

WEST BANK

Yishar

Huwwara

Balata

24,000 refugees Beit Furik

Shuafat

Ma’ale Efrayim

8,000 refugees

AL GHUBAYYA

TAB’UN

AL FAWQA AL NAGHNAGHIYYA

HAWSHA

Al Jalama

MI’AR

KARMIEL

SAKHNIN

ARRABA

NURIS

DANNA

TALL AL SHAWK

AL HAMRA

Allenby bridge AL FATUR

ARAB AL ARIDA AL KHUNAYZIR AL GHAZZAWIYYA

AL HAMIDIYYA

KAFRA

JABBUL ARAB AL BAWATI

Jordan River

ZAB’A

YAQUQ AL TABIGHA

SALIHA

DAYSHUM

AL DALHAMIYYA SAMAKH

AL SAMRA AL NUQAYB

AL RAS QADAS AL NABI YUSHA AL KHARRAR

AL ZANGHARIYYA

AL SAMAKIYYA TUBA ARAB AL SHAMALINA

MUGHR AL KHAYT

AL WAYZIYYA

AL HUSAYNIYYA

YARDA KIRAD AL MANSURAT BAQQARA AL KHAYT

HARRAWI

QIRYAT SHEMONA AL BUWAYZIYYA

ARAB AL ZUBAYD JAHULA MALLAHA BAYSAMUN AL ULMANIYYA AL SALIHIYYA

AL ZUQ AL MANSHIYYA

RACHAIY EL FOUKHA

AL SANBARIYYA AL SHAWKA

AL KHISAS AL ABISIYYA AL MANSURA KHAN AL DUWAYR

JORDAN

Baqa’a

AL KHALISA

KIRAD AL AL NA’IMA TULAYI GHANNAMA KHIYAM AL WALID MADAHIL AL MUFTAKHIRA QAYTIYYA AL HAMRA

GOLAN HEIGHTS Occupied by the Israeli army since 1967

104,000 refugees

MADABA

Occupied by the Israeli army from 1985 to 2000

AL MALIKIYYA

QADDITA

FIR’IM QABBA’A

KARRAZA

SEA OF GALILEE

AL UBAYDIYYA

BIRIYYA

SAFAD

NASIR AL DIN AL MANARA

AL MAZAR

TAYTABA

AKBARA AL SHUNA

AL MAJDAL AL ZAWIYA

SOUTH LEBANON

FARA

MIRUN KAFR BIR’IM

AL SAMMU’I

AYN AL ZAYTUN

TIBERIAS

AWLAM

SIRIN

AIN EBEL TEBNINE

AL FARRADIYYA

HITTIN HADATHA

KAWKAB AL HAWA

23,000 refugees

AL NABI RUBIN SURUH

SA’SA

GHABBATIYYA

NIMRIN

MA’DHAR

YUBLA

Burj el-Shemali

DAYR AL QASI SABALAN

KAFR INAN AL MURASSAS SHATTA

AL SAKHINA

UMM AJRA

SUHMATA

AL MANSURA

AL SHAJARA

QUMYA

AL ASHRAFIYYA

QANA

MA’ALOT

BEIT JANN

DEIR HANNA AL MAGHAR

FARWANA

Bisan

AL SAMIRIYYA

TARSHIHA DEIR EL-ASAD NAHF

KAFR KANNA EIN MAHIL

11,000 refugee

Rashidieh

31,000 refugees

IQRIT

REINEH IKSAL

ZIR’IN

El Buss

SOUR

AL GHABISIYYA

MAJD AL-KRUM

DABURIYYA

Hamra

AL BASSA AL NAHR

YARKA

IRIBBIN

YAFA ANNASERIYYE

TUR’AN

Jericho

AL TALL

AMQA

KABUL

Tayasir

JERICHO

NAQOURA

UMM AL FARAJ

KUWAYKAT

ABU SNAN

AL BIRWA

AL DAMUN

KAFR MANDA

NAZARETH

TUBAS

Dead Sea

MAKRJADEIDI KAFR YASIF

MA’LUL

AFFULEH

JENIN Jenin

I’BILLIN TAMRA

AL RUWAYS

AL KASAYIR

MIGDAL HAEMEK AL MUJAYDIL

16,000 refugees

AL MANSHIYYA

SHEFA-’AMR

WA’ARAT AL SARRIS

LID

QABATIYA

NAHARIYA

AL SUMAYRIYYA

ABU ZURAYQ ABU SHUSHA

AL MANSI

ACRE

KIRYAT BIALIK

BALAD AL SHAYKH

AL MANSURA

UMM AL-FAHM AL LAJJUN

Salem DCA

AL YAMUN

KIRYAT YAM

KUFRITTA KIRYAT ATA

AL MAZAR

Yitav

6,000 refugees

QIRA

Tura

2,000 refugees

Aqabat Jaber DEAD SEA

YOKNE’AM ILLIT

UMM AL SHAWF KUBBAYZA

Ya’bad Mevo Dotan

16,000 refugees

Far’a

At Tayba

Ein as-Sultan

40,000 settlers

UMM AL ZINAT

Shave Shomron

‘Asira Ash Shamaliya

11,000 refugees

Ma’ale Adumim

NESHER

ARA

MUSHEIRIFA

Askar

AL TIRA

AYN HAWD

WADI ARA

AL BUTAYMAT

NABLUS

HAIFA

AL MAZAR

DALIYAT AL-KARMEL ISFIYA

QANNIR

Reikhan Barta’a

YA’BAD

Occupied by the Israeli army since 1967 Mitzpe Shalem

9,000 refugees

7,000 refugees

6,000 settlers

TIRAT CARMEL

AYN GHAZAL UMM AL ALAQ

AR’ARA

Ein Beit al-Ma'

Brakha

AL SARAFAND

KAFR LAM

AL BURJ

AL MANSURA

Beit Iba

19,000 settlers

FUREIDIS

KABARA

AL SAWAMIR

ARAB AL FUQRA

KAFR QARA BAQA ALGHARBIYYE Naslat ‘Isa

Nur Shams

Qarne Shomron

Ariel

Tappuah

11,000 refugees

BARRAT QISARYA

RAML ZAYTA

JATT

Enav

SALFIT

Beit El

Qalandiya

1,000 refugees

ARAB ZAHRAT

ZALAFA

AL JALAMA

Immatin

15,000 settlers

RAMALLAH

Qalandiya

AL TANTURA

AL MANSHIYA

TAYIBE

Jalazone Giv’at Ze’ev

JERUSALEM

HADERA

WADI AL HAWARITH

WADI QABBANI

KAFR SABA

7,000 settlers

An Nabi Salih

Beituniya

LIFTA AL MALIHA

KFAR YONA

Qalqiliya North

Zufin

Salfit-Ariel

2,000 refugees

AL UMUR

BEITUNIA

JISR AZ-ZARQA

QALQILIYA QALANSUWA TIRA Tulkarm TULKARM 18,000 refugees

AL MUWAYLIH

Kafr Qasem Azzun Deir Ballut Atma

Deir ‘Ammar

Am’ari

Beit Iksa

MISKA

8,000 settlers

AL MIRR

Jubara

11,000 refugees

5,000 refugees

Beit Jibrin

Rantis

UMM KHALID

Alfei Menashe

ROSH HAAYIN

RAS AL AYN JALJULIA

KFAR QASEM

Road accessible only to Israeli cars in the West Bank

Kafriat

Beit ‘ur al Fauqa

NITAF BAYT THUL

QALUNYA AL JURA AL QASTAL

Al ‘Asakira

Oranit

7,000 settlers

Ni’lin 446

RA’ANANA TABSUR

INNABA

Beit Sira

BAYT UMM AL MAYS

BAYT ITAB DAYR AMR

BETHLEHEM

AL ZUWAIRA

Full Israeli Control

DAYR ABAN

AL BARRIYYA BARFILIYA

FAJJA

EL’AD RANTIYA

WIHELMA AL MUZAYRI’A AL TIRA QULA

DAYR ABU SALAMA KHARRUBA

Apartheid wall

NETANYA

AL HARAM

KFAR SABA

HOD HASHARON

AL DUHAYRIYYA AL HADITHA

JIMZU

YALU DAYR AYYUB

SARIS

DAYR ‘AMR

Dheisheh

Relative Palestinian Autonomy

ISHWA

SUFLA

Gush Etzion

Beit Ummar SA’IR

BANI NA’IM

Al Jab’a

AL SAWALIMA

YEHUD

47,000 settlers BAYT SHANNA BIR MA’IN INWAS

ISLIN

JARASH

46,000 settlers

LYDD

Modi’Illit

SALBIT

SAR’A

BAYT NATTIF

AL SHARQI

KAFR ‘ANA

AL QUBAB

ABU SHUSHA

AL KHALAYIL

BAYT MAHSIR

ARTUF

UMM BURJ

Betar Illit

Al Fawwar

DAYR RAFAT ISM ALLAH

BEIT SHEMESH

QASSA

Idhna

Halhul Sa’ir

ARAD

BAYT JIZ

ZAKARIYYA AJJUR

Tarqumiya

IDHNA

8,000 refugees AS SAMU

MAKHUL ABU GRAINAT AL BHIRAH ZULLAM AS ZA’ARURAH

ATIR

U.N.-sanctioned Green Lines

HERZLIYA

JINDAS SAJAD

DAYR NAKHKHAS

AD DHAHIRIYA

AL ASAM ABU KAFF UMM AL

AL MTAHHAR

GIV’AT SHMUEL

QAZAZA

DAYR AL DUBBAN

KUDNA

BAYT JIBRIN

HURA SA’WAH AL GARRAH BIR AL MSAS

AR’ARAT AN-NAQAB

KURNUB

KHULDA

AL SHAYKH MUWANNIS JARISHA

ABU AL FADL

RAMLA

UMM KALKHA

JILYA

Town founded/predominantly populated by settlers after 1948

KIRYAT YAM

AL JAMMASIN

PETAH TIKVA

WADI HUNAYN SAYDUN

IBNIBBA

JAFFA - TEL AVIV

NESS ZIONA

YIBNA

ZARNUQA

SHO’OUR

Bedouin village unrecognized by Israel (90,000 people)

AL NABI RUBIN

AL QUBAYBA

REHOVOT

AL MUKHAYZIN

AL KHAYMA

TALL AL SAFI

RA’NA

AL QUBAYBA AL MANSURA

AL SAGHIRA AL TINA

BARQUSYA

KHIRBIT AL WATAN

ABU TLUL

DIMONA

TALL AL TURMUS

SUMMIL

RISHON

AQIR

AL SAGHIRA

JUSAYR

KIRYAT GAT

AL NUWAIRI

MASAMEREH

BIR AL HAMAM

AZAZEMA

AL JALADIYYA

WUHAIDAT JABARAT

BI’LIN

LAQYE

YIBNA - YAVNE

AL SHARQI

AL MASMIYYA QASTINA

HATTA

ABU JABIR ABU AL UDOUS

ABU JRAIBAN

ABU JUGAIM AL MKIMIN

SWAWIN

DHAHIYAH

AWAJAN

TAL AS SABA

KHASIM ZANNIH

AL FALUJA

ZHAYYIH

UMM NMIFAH

TAYAHA NAJAMAT

SGIB AS SALAM

BE’ER SHEVA

Palestinian refugee camp administrated by UNRWA

YIBNA

BARQA

KIRYAT MALAKHI

IRA SUWAYDAN KARATIYYA

WULAYDEH

BELI

ZARABEH WADI AN NA’AM

ABU RAWWAA

AL HUZAIYIL

AL BATANI

AL SAWAFIR

IBDIS

BAYT SUSIN

ASLUJ

KHIRBIT ZABBALIH

BAYT AFFA KAWKABA

WADI ARA

AL SOUFI FARAHEEN

BIN RIFEE

ISRAEL

AL KHALASA FARAHEEN

KAWFAKHA

FARDISYA

ALAMAT

MAJDAL YABA

AL BURAIQI

AL ZAWIYA

Sufa

AL KSAR

LAZZAZA

Kerem Shalom

AL ZUQ

104,000 refugees

MAJDAL SHAMS

Jabal al Hussein 29,000 refugees

Jerash

24 ,000 refugees

Wihdat

52,000 refugees

AMMAN

Marka

53,000 refugees

IRBID

Souf

20,000 refugees

Irbid

25,000 refugees

SYRIA

Husn

22,000 refugees

25

Fig. 2: The Palestinian Archipelago, Map

by Léopold Lambert (2012)

This issue’s topic of Atlantis deals with Heterotopia. The editor’s decision to apply this theory on human rights violations is to bridge the gap between so-called ‘radical’ theory and actual radical situations. We pose that the building of Israeli settlements in the West Bank while refusing to allow the same privilege is creating two separate heterotopias. Foucault wondered if colonies reach this standard, a heterotopia of compensation, “to create a space that is other, … messy, ill constructed and jumbled” (Foucault, 1967, p. 8). Actually connecting and using theory in the concrete, is to employ it from its vague abstractness.

The following images show these two aspects of our profession, planning and theory. As we have seen the horrific images from Gaza inflicted by the Israeli military, we wanted to highlight the

already oppressive practices going on in the West Bank before this war started. The images of Léopold Lambert have provided us with the visual element to exemplify the occupation.

During his recent teach-in (2023) he showed his documentation via photography and mapping of the apartheid of Israel in Palestine. We wish to highlight some of the images shown by him to you. We will go through his work by four terms, Settle, Erasure, Control, and Apartheid, to visualise from a planning and architectural lens. For a geographic context we present these maps (Figure 1) that show the West Bank and the respective Nolli map (Figure 2) highlighting the few spaces Palestinians actually are allowed to go to. Sit with these spaces and look how our planning and theory is applied to subdue the Palestinian population for over the last 75 years.

Settle The act of settling on occupied land is illegal under international law (specifically article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, (ICRC, 1949)). Despite this, the amount of examples seen in the West Bank are staggering. This hill, currently occupied by the colony Har Homa south of Jerusalem, shows the impact on the land and the subsequent denial of being able to visit it by its former inhabitants (Figure 4 and 6). Additionally it erases a green natural space (Figure 3 and 5), ecologically destroying the landscape. The intentional settlement of the West Bank creates a so-called ‘geography of disaster’, carving “Palestinian communities into small, isolated and disconnected communities ... as well [as] drying up water sources and ruining some of the most beautiful parts of the Palestinian landscape” (Pappé, 2017).

"This is Har Homa, A massive Israeli colony on a hill south of Jerusalem. Its construction completely annihilated a beautiful forest on top of it"

Fig. 3: Abu-Ghneim Mountain photographed in 1997, ARIJ (2005)

26

Fig. 4: Israeli colony of Har Homa as seen from Bethlehem.

Photo by Léopold Lambert (2015).

Fig. 5: The remaining ruins of the Palestinian village of Lifta.

Photo by Léopold Lambert (2017).

Erasure

“Lifta used to be a Palestinian village which was raided and where several residents were massacred months prior to the establishment of the state of Israel by a Zionist paramilitary group. [...] The zionist narrative of a land without people for a people without a land is a total fallacy looking at the architectural proof that remains”.

Fig. 6: Irgun (Zionist paramilitary) Museum in Al Manshiya (between Tel Aviv and Jaffa’s old city), built on top of a Palestinian commercial structure.

Photo by Léopold Lambert (2017).

Erasure, or as we see it, cultural genocide or ethnocide, has almost been completely enacted in Pre-48’ Palestine. Only a few physical remnants of its former culture are left in the landscape, many already torn down or repurposed by the Israeli state. Its goal, to invalidate any claims their former owners might make to their now destroyed place of home (Pappé, 2006). Not only are homes, institutions and lives destroyed, the Erasure also caused mental harm for an entire group connected to the land and its practices (Novic, 2016). Figure 7 and 8 show some of these remnants of the former village of Lifta. Figures 9, 10 and 11 show what might happen to these places in the future, abandoned to the elements, built over or repurposed by the coloniser.

27

Figure 7: Checkpoint to access the Al Ibrahimi Mosque in Hebron-Al Khalil.

Photo by Léopold Lambert (2023).

Figure 8: AI-operated machine gun on the checkpoint at the entrance to Hebron-Al Khalil’s old city Israeli colony, where a few Palestinian families still live. Photo by Léopold Lambert (2023).

28

Control The subjugation of bodies in space through state sanctioned checkpoints is an essential element in the control over the Palestinians.

The UN documented 645 fixed obstacles of movement for Palestinians in the occupied Palestinian territory (oPt), again illegal under international law, the UN states that “the Israeli authorities have the obligation to facilitate the free movement of Palestinians within the oPt, including East Jerusalem” (UN, 2023).

Besides restricting movement, these checkpoints inflict considerable individual and collective physical (194 deaths at checkpoints alone in 2023) and psychological harm. Psychological harm ranges from deep feelings of distress and desperation further nuanced in (1) feelings of humiliations and dehumanisation, (2) feelings of non-existence, danger, and dying, (3) feelings of rage and (4) feelings of pessimism and helplessness (Nagamey et al., 2018).

“Every morning you have to cross this checkpoint which shows architecture’s function as fundamentally being about the control of bodies.”

Apartheid Over the last few decades the case being made that Israel is an apartheid state has increased significantly. Reports by the respected human rights organisations Yesh Din (2020), B´Tselem (2021), Human Rights Watch (2021) and Amnesty International (2022) have concluded apartheid is being committed, with the UN not far behind. The images presented are some of the physical aspects of apartheid enforced by the Israeli state on the Palestinian people. This physicality is made possible by the meticulous planning of fellow urban planning colleagues, especially in restricting access to land, ser-

vices and resources for Palestinians (HRW, 2021). These last few images show the different forms of apartheid in a vertical and horizontal way, by separating space Palestinians are allowed to access or barred from going to.

Images that show walls separating neighbourhoods (Figure 16), viaducts forbidden to be used by Palestinians (Figure 18), and a Palestinian commercial street covered by a fenced roof (Figure 17 and 19) to protect them from trash thrown down by settlers. All of these are made by planners and architects which shape the daily realities of Palestinians.

Fig. 9: Israeli colony of Pisgat Ze’ev as seen from the Shu’fat Palestinian refugee camp in Jerusalem.

Photo by Léopold Lambert (2017).

29

Fig. 10: Market street in Hebron-Al Khalil with a metal roof to protect from trash thrown by Israeli residents living on top.

Photo by Léopold Lambert (2023).

References: Figures by Leopold Lambert, except: Fig 3 and 5: Amro, J., & Najjar, R. (2011).

Future development of the Palestinian neighbourhoods in East Jerusalem: misuse of environmental concepts in land management. International Journal of Environmental Studies, 68(4), 531–542. https://doi.org/10.10 80/00207233.2011.585027 The Funambulist. (2023, November 12).

Léopold Lambert “Teach-In: The Architecture of Settler Colonialism in Palestine” [Video].

YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=5QgxbFXUhCw

B’Tselem. (2021). A regime of Jewish supremacy from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea: This is apartheid. B’tselem.

Retrieved January 20, 2024, from https:// www.btselem.org/sites/default/files/publications/202101_this_is_apartheid_eng.pdf Yesh Din. (2020). The Israeli Occupation of the West Bank and the Crime of Apartheid.

Retrieved January 10, 2024, from https:// s3-eu-west-1.amazonaws.com/files.yesh-din. org/Apartheid+2020/Apartheid+ENG.pdf Amnesty International. (2022). Israel’s Apartheid against Palestinians: cruel system of domination and crime against humanity.

In Amnisty.org (Index: MDE 15/5141/2022).

Retrieved January 10, 2024, from https:// www.amnesty.org/en/documents/ mde15/5141/2022/en/ Kadaman, N., : B., & Beṣelem, M. H. H. L. H. B. (2013). Acting the landlord: Israel’s Policy in Area C, the West Bank.

Pappé, I. (2017). Ten myths about Israel. https://openlibrary.org/books/ OL27234394M/Ten_myths_about_Israel Pappé, I. (2006). The ethnic cleansing of Palestine. http://www.schou.de/terrorwar/ Ethnic-Cleansing-Palestine.pdf Novic E. (2016). The concept of cultural

genocide : an international law perspective.

Oxford University Press.

Nagamey NM, Goldner L and Lev-Wiesel R (2018) Perspectives on Social Suffering in Interviews and Drawings of Palestinian Adults Crossing the Qalandia Checkpoint: A Qualitative Phenomenological Study. Front. Psychol.

9:1591. doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2018.01591 United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs - occupied Palestinian territory | Movement and Access in the West Bank | August 2023. (2023, August 25). United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs - Occupied Palestinian Territory. https://www.ochaopt.

org/2023-movement Human Rights Watch, & Shakir, O. (2021).

A threshold crossed: Israeli Authorities and the Crimes of Apartheid and Persecution. https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/ media_2021/04/israel_palestine0421_ web_0.pdf International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War (Fourth Geneva Convention), 75 UNTS 287, 12 August 1949, https://www. refworld.org/legal/agreements/icrc/1949/ en/32227 [accessed 12 February 2024]

The Story of a Liminal Metal City Nima Tabrizi Images by Majd Bitar

30

A little more further A city of iron floating on the far side of the water

‫رتوس نآ یمک‬ ‫هتفرگ ولهپ رود یبآ رب نینهآ یرهش‬

A city with a thousand rooms And a thousand stories in every room of a thousand long paths of a thousand wishes

‫قاتا رازه اب یرهش‬ ‫ناتساد رازه قاتا ره رد و‬ ‫ینالوط‌هار رازه زا‬ ‫وزرآ رازه زا‬

the iron city suspended on the water with people in a limbo With big dreams

‫نینهآ رهش‬ ‫بآ رب قلعم‬ ‫خزرب رد ینامدرم اب‬ ‫گرزب ییاهایور اب‬

31

Fig. 1: Views from a window of a cruise ship, by Majd Bitar

As I prepared to embark on another urban storytelling workshop, I hadn’t anticipated the unique environment that would become both my classroom and my inspiration. The location was not just a backdrop but a protagonist in its own right - a transformed metal city, a cruise ship named Galaxy, anchored away from the familiar comfort of Amsterdam’s intricate canals and cosy alleys.

This floating city, surrounded by industrial chimneys and perched on a remote harbour, housed its citizens in a liminal space caught between displacement and emplacement.

My first journey to this metal city began with a departure from Rotterdam. I checked the map and saw that its location was in the western part of Amsterdam, so I decided to get off at Sloterdijk. However, upon arrival, I discovered an unexpected isolation - no public transport or pedestrian paths led to this detached city, at least none that Google Maps would suggest.

Without a bike and being conscious of time, I opted for a taxi. My first encounter with Galaxy was marked by an unforeseen firefighter drill, which, although not a cause for personal alarm, did set a dramatic tone as residents hurriedly evacuated. It was against this backdrop of ur32

gency and disarray that I met my colleagues for the first time, just outside the city gates, by the water’s edge. The first sight of the metal city was not much of an intimate encounter!

The metal city is called Galaxy, a name that evokes expansiveness and escape. It was initially a cruise ship designed for the leisure of 2800 holidaymakers. Yet, in a twist of fate, one day it departed its previous anchorage in Stockholm to perch somewhere close to Amsterdam, repurposed to shelter 1500 individuals not in search of vacation but refuge. In this act, Amsterdam attempted to extend a comprehensive and supportive embrace to those displaced by the harsh realities of the world, offering a semblance of stability within the unsettling confines of a levitating settlement, a detached piece of space, disconnected from the land, floating on the surface of infinite water, a land of landlessness.

The following week, as I stepped into the once-luxurious huge cruise ship, I found the gleaming chandeliers that once adorned grand halls casted a muted glow on temporary living spaces, and the polished dance floors echoed with the whispers of the stories of people’s jourFig. 2: The cruise ship, Galaxy, by Majd Bitar

neys, instead of waltzing couples. It was within this incongruity that the essence of my workshop took root: our past and present, evolution of details, our personal trajectory, juxtaposition of dream, reality, connections and bonds. The young adults, embracing their future within the confines of the Galaxy, were fluctuating participants of the “urban storytelling” workshop, in which they presently entangled the past and the future. Their intellects revealed the weight of trajectories that transcend the glossy history of the ship’s past. Together, we embarked on a journey to uncover the hidden narratives within this transformed setting. Physically and metaphorically distanced from the hustle and bustle of traditional urban life, Galaxy formed its own universe, brimming with stories waiting to be told - tales of homes left behind, dreams yet to be realized, and the diverse journeys that brought each individual to this floating sanctuary.

***

As I walk the hallways of Galaxy, I witness the dichotomy inherent to it. The once exclusive rooms that defined the luxury ship now house stories of escape and endurance. It is a meeting of worlds that, at first glance, appear incongruous but, upon deeper perception, reveal the interconnectivity of human experiences. It opulently sheltered people from distinct geographies, with different backgrounds and various aspirations who have one thing in common: fluidity in finding a better life.

I engage with the stories of the citizens of the Galaxy, their resilience, and the stark contrast between the ship’s galactic facade, and the uncertainty of their daily lives. The on limbo nature of the residents adds layers to its liminal character: a city that intersects time and space and challenges the conventional understanding of locality and temporality. The Galaxy, adrift and largely isolated, forms a backdrop for my personal reflections, offering a unique perspective for exploring transformative possibilities. It becomes a medium through which I weave together varied past experiences across different locales, all while navigating the present’s complexities.

My journey within the Galaxy highlights the intricate ways individual perceptions can shift in an environment that stands in stark contrast to its original design: this is where a Heterotopia comes to life.

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Fig. 3: The cruise ship, Galaxy, by Majd Bitar

The Galaxy transcends mere physicality, evolving into a heterotopic mirror that reflects transitions and journeys. Within its confines, its inhabitants embark on a quest for perceptual evolution.

Delving into their narratives prompts me to question the societal structures that compel individuals to abandon their origins and embrace a state of liminality within this floating residence.

With its lavish past, the Galaxy now anchors at the intersection of the world’s four corners. It represents a space that maintains a facade of normalcy, despite its inhabitants being there out of necessity rather than choice. Within this context, the Galaxy navigates its unique approach to what we define as present and past, blending commonalities with contradictions. It is a story woven from thousands of stories.

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Fig. 1: Subway Station: The transcient otherness

The Unfamiliar Oddity of Waiting Spaces A Heterotopic Reading of Subway Stations Shahzeb Khan Hammad Ahsan

The classic heterotopias that Foucault (1967) highlights–such as cemeteries, gardens, prisons, libraries, and museums–hold an extraordinary position in society that sets them apart from the everyday world most people inhabit. While no singular spatial account fulfills the definition of heterotopias, its description as the kind of places “outside of all places, even though it may be possible to indicate their location in reality” (ibid, p.

4), compounded by Foucault’s analogy of the mirror as virtual space that emplaces yet unsettle the reality it reflects; is the most coherent feature of its ‘otherness.’

This reflective ‘otherness’ operates in a double-faced modality, where heterotopias come into existence by straddling the interstices of reality and illusion, creating dual simultaneously manifest interpretive realities, which are at once imagined outside the normal. Yet it is through this very imagination as other that they sustain the normality of everyday spaces (Boyer, 2008). This illusory capacity of heterotopias is not limited to the rational places of libraries and museums or the places of deviation such as asylums and brothels but is also present in the banal appearing routinized places of sameness. Places like parking lots, public elevators, and bus stops, whose homogenous placelessness serves as static backgrounds for everyday places we inhabit. This essay examines one of these sites: subways stations.

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The Subway

Time and Waiting

Subway stations are a crucial part of everyday urban life and are typically highly regulated spaces designed primarily for utility. However, when considered independently of their functional role in facilitating the city’s transient dynamics, these stations’ normative, utilitarian identity is called into question. While subway platforms globally have started to integrate typological innovations, such as retail spaces and other public amenities, our focus remains on the traditional functions of waiting and transfer that constitute the mono-functional premise for a majority of Subway Stations. Operating as seemingly ordinary locations for daily commutes, subway stations embody a highly unusual architecture for systemic1 collective waiting characterized by disciplinary mechanisms of temporal management. In his fourth principle of heterotopias, Foucault (1967) draws our attention towards their different temporal organization (‘heterochronies’) that reach their peak when “people find themselves in a sort of absolute break with their traditional time”(p.

6). This splitting of time operates differently from one heterotopia to another; however, in Subway Stations, we come across a time in its most fluent, precarious, and transitory state or what Foucault (ibid) regards as “absolutely temporal.” However, it is when one examines the odd juxtaposition of the implicit act of induced waiting with the increasingly technical timed order of these spaces that their true divergence is revealed, yet it requires one to inquire how this fragmentation of time occurs in the first place.

Institutionally monitored and productively evaluated, time in the modern world is reduced to its chronometric flow, leaving out the multiple temporalities constructed outside the capitalist time frames (Sharma, 2014). Lefebvre (2013) highlights this difference by distinguishing between linear and cyclical processes of time, arguing that, like space, human time is also abstract and lived. Where linear time is social and produced through repetitive quantitative acts (such as a working day) with a beginning and an end, cyclical time is rhythmic, i.e., characterized by difference, spanning periodicities that are both physiological (pertaining to the body) and cosmic (like seasonal change) in their origin. For Lefebvre (2013), any experience of time embodies an antagonistic unity of relations between linear and cyclical processes, whereas in the modern world, the linear repetitive trends linked to homogenous time come to dominate everyday life without completely eliminating its heterogeneous other (Meyer, 2008). The ‘break from traditional time,’ as highlighted previously, has to be splitting away from this abstract social time.

Waiting in a world characterized by movement and speed increases our awareness of the interference of the linear and cyclical rhythms of time that produce the everyday patterns of life in the city. Spaces of waiting are all around us; however, Subway Stations hold a unique place in this regard as they not only serve as localized empty vessels of systemic waiting Fig. 2: Descent: Departure from everyday surface.

Fig. 3: Portal: The new time-zones of waiting.

but are also actively involved in the making of a dilatory infrastructure of timekeeping that diverges from yet sustains the structuring of everyday life around abstract time. Albeit, how is this temporal otherness of waiting spatialized in the underground subway stations? With the help of photography and situational reading, we identify five key conditions of temporal ordering that characterize the unique heterochronic architecture of subway stations.

the spatiotemporal organization of daily life are replaced by the linear procession of an organized abstract time in direct confrontation with the biological rhythms of the body. This severance allows new self-referential measures of time to emerge disconnected from traditional rhythms of time, kept instead by the operational necessity of waiting.

I. Subterranean Interiority

Organized around the arrival and departure of trains, the subway stations operate as regulated formations of temporal interstices in which passengers are bound by a technical apparatus operating to maintain the centrality of schedule-based timekeeping. While the controlled points of entry and exit demarcate a penetrable yet separate spatial zone–as Foucault (1967) highlights in his fifth principle of heterotopias–they also operate as portals of opening and closing into an ordered temporal sequence. The automated tapping counters with beeping barricades form spatiotemporal markers of a checked flow of time, which is calibrated with the line schedules. These systems-based calculative measures of time, performing as new technical modes of timekeeping while reinforcing the centrality of the clock, also bring forth the mono-functional organization of these spaces found on linearly assembled temporal sequences.

“Imposition of any distinct disciplinary order requires the establishment of an enclosure.”2 By virtue of being underground, subway stations are severed from the city’s everyday rhythms, creating spaces of forced refuge from the various temporalities of the surface. This secession from both natural rhythms of time (such as daylight) and various human and non-human periodicities of social time of the city produces an independent perceived time, necessitating a complete reliance on the technologically synchronized temporal order of these subterranean transitory environments. In the enclosed incandescent interiors, the social and natural rhythms animating

II. Temporal Sequences

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III. Repetitive Movements The calculative operationality of a timetable is instrumental in the production and implementation of order (Foucault, 1977). The disciplinary mechanism of establishing rhythms and regulating cycles of repetition imposes a distinct temporal elaboration of an act (in this case, the act of waiting), entailing a partitioning of time into a series of predictable, repetitive movements.

Lefebvre (2013) distinguishes movements from rhythms as sequences of programmed repetitive acts that belong to the domain of machines, whereas rhythms are repetitions characterized by difference; however, the everyday results through and perpetual interaction of both. The temporal discipline in subway stations requires an effective measurement of time in the fixed durational cycles of repetitive movements of various human and non-human elements by a maximal elimination of the rhythmic difference.

The scheduled rotational movement of the train becomes the primary repetition against which all other repetitions and time are calibrated.

These include the uniform linear repetitions of escalators and turnstiles, the mechanical rotation of elevators, and the minutely differentiated yet highly controlled movement of disciplined bodies through these timekeeping apparatuses.

This monotony of timed movements forms unitary durational cycles of brutal repetitions that define the temporal geometry of homogenous time in Subway Stations that is both measured and measuring.

IV. Transitory Sub-Places Foucault (1967) attributes a placelessness to heterotopia in that it is "capable of juxtaposing in a single real place several spaces..." (p. 6).

As a transitory media of transfer, subway stations only perform as a place as long as they are connected to other places (destinations).

Their relation to these other places is spatially and temporally determined by the network of scheduled movements from one point to another within which they operate. Here, the point is not only defined through its spatial location but also through its temporal distance from all the other points of the network.

This over-layering time is represented in subway maps that emphasize connections between places over the place itself, leading to time-based navigation between points of departure and arrival. These maps are not only mere representations but also tools for spatial and temporal navigation that symbolize the transitory state of these spaces by emphasizing change, transfer, and tenuous, permanent connection. Hence, subway stations are neither single real places nor arbitrary nodes in space; they perform as compensatory sub-places of waiting, positioned posterior to locale (place of leaving) and prior to destination (place of arriving).

Fig. 4-6: Order: Perpetual machinery of calibrated movement (top), Anticipation: The Interminable state of limbo (middle) and Void: The liminal emptiness of in-betweenness (bottom).

V. Intermediary Stasis In his analysis of cinema and time, Deleuze (1989) compares movement-image with time-image where in the former, time is indirectly represented through movement; it is understood and experienced through the sequence of events and actions on screen, however, in the latter, time becomes the primary focus and is presented directly to the viewer. This approach to time challenges traditional narrative structures and encourages viewers to engage with time in a more immediate, experiential way by emphasizing stillness, breaks, and intervals. While these transitory sub-places of waiting are regulated by a rich layering of disparate yet interdependent repetitive movements, the gaps between these movements enforce a liminal state of stoppage.

These intermediary situations of stillness, which situate the passenger into this temporary stasis, also turn subway platforms into temporal bridges that connect the events of movement yet separate them through the idleness of waiting. It is important to note that Foucault (1967) regards idleness as “a sort of deviation” (p. 5), so while a platform acts as a bridge, it also contains this deviation. This imposition of stillness transforms space into an effective temporal instrument for coping with the situational vacancy of movement. The void of the tunnel representing the absence of a mechanical locomotive also embodies a durational weight in navigating the events of release (arrival and departure) from these dilatory instances of waiting set against highly regulated temporal order of repetitive movements. The boredom induced through this transitory stasis stimulates an unmediated encounter with time devoid of movement that, like Lefebvre's lived time, is non-linear, highly differentiated, and multiplicitous.

The Mirror Heterotopias are sites of alternate ordering whose incongruity emerges only when set against the parameters of enforced normalcy and correct ordering (Sohn, 2008). This interstitial, illusory capacity brings forth the mirror-like reflective state of heterotopias, creating instances of otherness that, by their very imagination, sustain the normality of everyday space – negating their own alterity only to be replaced by more imaginary yet static, concurrent, internalized places. Subway stations, widely overlooked as mundane interstices of transition, are a crucial source of such otherness defining imagined staticity that contest what they try to achieve. The heterochronicity of subway stations reveals the

uncanny character of these spaces of everyday experience that is usually disguised under the normative routinized affair of a synchronized and networked urban life. As mundane organized timescapes, their stability is achieved through an illusionary schema of a highly regulated temporal architecture that orders a linear flow of time, which is immediately subverted by enabling an encounter with the dilatory nature of a heterogeneous lived time in these transitory spaces of waiting. Like a sailing ship, that Foucault (ibid, p. 9) regards as the quintessential heterotopia, through their own spatiotemporal suspension, subway stations reinforce the stability of all other places.

Notes: 1. Kellerman (2019) regards systemic waiting as a modern experience enforced through a timetable-based logic of transportation systems by placing travelers into the enlarged ordered structures for waiting.

2. Foucault (1977) highlights the importance of confinement and enclosure for order: “Discipline sometimes requires enclosure, the specification of a place heterogeneous to all others and closed in upon itself. It is the protected place of disciplinary monotony” (p. 141).

References: 1. Boyer, M. C. (2008). The many mirrors of Foucault and their architectural reflections. In M. Dehaene, & L. D. Cauter (Eds.), Heterotopia and the Ciyt: Public space in a postcivil society (pp. 53-74) 2. Deleuze, G. (1989). Cinema 2: The Time-Image. (H. Tomlinson, & R. Galeta, Trans.) Minneapolis, USA: The University of Minessota Press. (Original work published in 1985) 3. Foucault, Michel. 1967. Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias, translated and reprinted in Joan Ockman, Architecture Culture 1943–1968. New York: Rizzoli International. p. 423.

4. Foucault, Michel. (1977). Discipline & Punish: The Birth of Prison. (A. Sheridan, Trans.) New York: Vintage Books. (Original work published in 1975) 5. Kellermann, R. (2019). Waiting for Railways (1830-1914). In C. Singer, R. Wirth, & O. Berwald (Eds.), Timescapes of Waiting (pp. 35-57).

Boston, USA: Brill Rodopi.

6. Lefebvre, H. (2013). Ryhthmanalysis. (S. Elden, & G. Moore, Trans.) London: Bloomsbury.

(Original work published in 1992) 7. Meyer, K. (2008). Ryhthms, streets, cities. In K. Goonewardena, S. Kipfer, R. Milgrom, & C. Schmid (Eds.), Space, Difference, Everyday Life: Reading Henri Lefebvre (pp. 147-160).

London: Routledge.

8. Sharma, S. (2014). In the Meantime: Temporality and Cultural Politics. Durham, UK: Duke University Press.

9. Sohn, H. (2008). Heterotopia: anamnesis of a medical term. In M. Dehaene, & L. D. Cauter (Eds.), Heterotopia and the City: Public space in a postcivil society (pp. 41-50)

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The “Other” Threshold Heterotopia in the In-between Spaces Marina Kostaki Smyrnaiou Efi

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In considering Foucault’s concept of heterotopia, which involves the exploration of incompatible spaces, it becomes evident that comparisons can be drawn with other terms and concepts that encapsulate the notions of variety and diversity. Foucault defines heterotopias as realistic places accommodating the different, the “Other” (Foucault, 1967). As he mentions, they are specific places with contrasting qualities from their environment, and their function can be placed on a continuum between two opposite poles (Foucault, 1994). By creating spaces that are defined in relation to one another and by establishing boundaries through an associative perception, heterotopias operate as ‘non-normative places’ in relation to their surroundings, yet have an interconnected relationship with them. One visual manifestation of this exploration is found in the photographic works of Mario Giacomelli and Ger Dekkers, see fig. 1 and 2, whose lens capture scenes reflecting the contrasting qualities, the relation to one another and interplay between spaces.

Fig. 1: Landscape, lames on the field, 1954, by Mario Giacomelli

41 Fig. 2: The Planned Landscapes, 1977, by Ger Dekkers

Foucault explores the realm between place and non-place, delving into the intricate relationships established as one seamlessly folds into another. He consistently associates these notions in relation to society, considering it the primary network influencing the development of space (Stavridis, 2010). The transformative nature of heterotopias, marked by change and alteration, imbues them with a transitional quality. This quality is also evident in the shifts that occur during the traversal of thresholds, ultimately contributing to the emergence of new identities (Gennep, 1960). Similarly, in the process of integration within the “Other”, the qualities of place alternate and create a character of search in new forms of interstitiality that can manifest between public and private space (Hertzberger, 1991). This exploration finds resonance in the evocative liminal space images captured by Ramese Mathews, see fig. 3 and 4, which visually articulate the fluidity and ambiguity inherent in these transitional zones.

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Fig. 3-4: Liminal Space, 2017, by Ramese Mathews

Fig. 5: Collage by authors

In accordance with heterotopia, the concept of intermediate thresholds, inherent polarities manifest as essential attributes, and the ensuing relationship between the opposing poles assumes crucial significance. The demarcation of thresholds remains undefined, maintaining equilibrium within hybridized states (Turner, 1969), with the in between consequently, constituting an interspatial domain of discrete elements engaged in perpetual interconnectivity.

In-between spaces constitute a time and spatial mechanism for organizing the transformation of meanings . While these spaces offer new ‘nodes of encounter’ with the heterogeneity of the “Other”, at the same time are located between times and places. As chronic thresholds, heterotopias contribute discontinuities in the pattern of time, embodying the concept of transition as they occupy intermediary states between the past

and the future, marked by connections and disconnections.

In conclusion, heterotopias can be conceptualized as thresholds, comprising interconnected yet incompatible spaces that provide an associative perception, with inherent characteristics of shifting features and the transformation of spatial and timely conditions. By delineating new borders navigable through the definition of threshold, these spaces function as a transitional place, reflecting heterogeneities, and serve as a field of interchange of particularities. In a parallel interpretation, heterotopia juxtaposes a series of multiple spaces in a real place, resembling a threshold, and composes a complex of spatial qualities and configurations that anticipate a transition.

References: Foucault, M. (1967). « Des espaces autres. » Conférence au Cercle d’études architecturales, in Architecture, Mouvement, Continuité, no 5 (1984), p. 46-49.

Foucault, M. (1994) Dits et Écrits: 1954-1988, Editions Gallimard, Paris, p 435-436 Victor Turner, 1969, The ritual Process Structure and Anti-Structure: Liminality and Communitas, Aldine Publishing, Chicago, p. 93-96, 102-106.

Gennep, A. V. (1960). The rites of passage, The University Chicago Press, United States of America.

Hertzberger, H. (1991). Lessons for Students in Architecture, 010 Publishers, p.32-39 Aldo van Eyck, 1962, The Child, the City and the Artist: an Essay on Architecture: the In-between Realm, Sun Publishing, Amsterdam.

Turner, V. (1969). The ritual Process Structure and Anti-Structure: Liminality and Communitas, Aldine Publishing, Chicago, p. 93-96, 102-106.

Stavridis, S. (2010). Towards the City of Thresholds, Professional Dreamers Publications, p.101-116.

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Heterotopic Narratives from Trás-os-Montes Inês Francisca Oliveira

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The region of Trás-os-Montes, situated in the northeastern part of Portugal, unfolds a landscape characterized by its rugged terrains, historical richness, and sociocultural intricacies. Its name means “Behind the Mountains’’ and the focus of my master research “Percursos de Inês de Jesus: lugares-do-saber na paisagem’’ on docufiction and representing the life of rural women from this region at the beginning of the 20th century is a backdrop for this essay and exploration of heterotopic spaces. The interaction between architecture and ethnobiographical investigation creates a layered tapestry, interpreting the landscape as a reflective surface, mirroring the relationships of body, space, and memory.

Fig. 1: Female echoes in purple: A visual synthesis of self & heritage, intertwining a self-portrait with ancestral maps in purple, a symbol of feminist movements. Echoing the past, the composition blends the present self with the great-grandmother, adorned in feminist hues. Within the negation of the mirror, pathways are reflected, illustrating the exploration of atemporal landscapes ‘behind the mountains’.

The concept of heterotopia proposed by Foucault, as exposed in “Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias”(1984 [1967]), provides a theoretical lens through which the unique qualities of the Trás-os-Montes region can be interpreted. Heterotopias, defined as spaces with diverse relationships, have the potential to challenge casual perceptions of time and space.

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By considering and researching Trás-os-Montes through this theoretical prism, it was intended to discern the utopian dimensions that shape the narratives and remembrances of the region, questioning and arguing the possibility of the memory of the landscape being a heterotopia.

The master dissertation sought to delve deeper into the life and legacy of Inês de Jesus, my great-grandmother, starting from the idea that, in addition to having inherited her name, I inherited the sense of belonging to a territory, with the landscape being what connects me to this land of memory. The existence of me and her is a central element of the heterotopic narratives proposed in this theoretical essay. By rewriting the great-grandmother Inês’ history through the territory, I, Inês, architect and researcher, intend to reveal layers of meaning within the landscape, considering temporal connections that transcend the conventional boundaries

of architectural discourse. By interpreting the emotional and spatial connection with Inês de Jesus in the heterotopic framework, it is anticipated the unearthing of narratives that not only mirror the cultural aspects of the territory but also transcend the limitations of a perception of linear time, opening a portal to the utopian fabric of Trás-os-Montes.

Following Butterflies

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During the first site visit, I did dèrives in the territory. I was fascinated with butterflies, following these creatures on my first steps in Trás-osMontes. Little did I know that this seemingly fortuitous encounter would later reveal a deep connection to an ancient past. Following the delicate flutter of butterflies, paths were involuntarily recreated which, unbeknownst at the time, mirrored the agricultural work paths carried out by my great-grandmother in her birthplace. Part of it constituted the same routes that later were mapped, based on historical and cartography references. They were the paths of rural women in Inês’ village. This poetic interlude reminds us that the mirror landscape not only reflects historical narratives but also intertwines personal and emotional journeys with the broader utopian tapestry of the territory.

Heterotopias are spaces of otherness that disrupt conventional notions of place and challenge the established order (Foucault, 1984 [1967]).

The concept provides a robust framework for understanding the reflective nature of the landscape. In this investigation, the memory of Trás-os-Montes, with the juxtaposition of both Inês de Jesus’ landscape narratives and Inês Oliveira’s interpretation of it, emerges as a heterotopia. This is where the different layers of history and culture converge. The recollection of the great-grandmother’s spatial clues inscribed in the land was perceived and reinterpreted while following the butterflies and representing these pathways, as it primarily disturbs the linear flow of time and challenges established spatial categories. To explain this, there are 4 main ideas to clarify in the scope of the research: (1) the definition of Trás-os-Montes as a utopia, (2) the exploration of landscape as ‘the mirror’, (3) the multidimensional experience of the body in land perceived while trying to reimagine the past of Trás-os-Montes and (4) the idea that landscapes’ memory is a heterotopia, being a collection of emotional, cultural and spatial narratives.

The Utopia ‘Behind the Mountains’ The conceptualization of Trás-os-Montes as a utopia in this essay is not confined to the contemporary geographic space with the same name but is rather an exegesis of the Trás-os-Montes experienced through the master research “Percursos de Inês de Jesus: lugares-do-saber na paisagem”. This utopian interpretation is vital for the heterotopic understanding of the landscape’s memory, challenging conventional socio-spatial and historical interpretations. To this end, it is crucial to understand that the investigation was based on the main Portuguese anthropological and ethnographic scientific studies of the 20th century. It was equally enriched by the work “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir, highlighting gender as the “stylized” repetition of acts. To strengthen the theoretical foundation, in this essay, I draw upon Beauvoir’s ideas and Michel Foucault’s exploration of concepts in Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias”(1984 [1967]).

The decision to label Trás-os-Montes as a utopia is intricately linked to a critical exploration of gender language, with the entire dissertation presented in the feminine — an approach that can be viewed as a ‘manifesto thesis.’ The incorporation of docufiction in this semiotic exercise bridges the gap between a new imagination of women and the landscape, responding to historical data gaps. In this context, utopia is not merely a fanciful construction but a dynamic force challenging patriarchal narratives within the rural landscape. The docufiction methodology transformed concrete data into something utopian, breaking away from traditional constraints. Utopia, in this context, serves as a tool for social critique, disrupting linear timelines and offering a nuanced understanding of the complex feminine narratives of the region. The written Trás-os-Montes, though idealized, becomes a powerful critique of patriarchal structures and injustices in historical narratives related to rural women’s roles in cultural landscapes.

By embracing utopia as an integral component of the heterotopian narrative, the exploration transcends common narrative paradigms. This approach invites the reader to adopt a new perspective on Trás-os-Montes, acknowledging its rich and multifaceted past. The term “utopia” in this context ceases to denote an impractical ideal and transforms into a transformative tool for dismantling historical, political, and social limitations. By embracing utopia as an intrinsic component of the heterotopian narrative, I invite the reader to receive a new perspective on the rich and multifaceted past of Trás-os-Montes from a woman’s point of view.

Fig. 2: Frames of labor: The circular motif, an homage to collective strength, transcends representation, being a mirror reflecting the stylized repetition of acts. Does the circle bind or emancipate? How does the repetition of roles shape landscapes? And, how does this feminine collective research contribute to the utopian and heterotopian landscapes of Trás-os-Montes?

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Landscape as a Mirror The conceptualization of the landscape as a mirror is linked to the interaction between the physical environment and the reflective dimensions of cultural and historical narratives. “Landscape is a space on the surface of the earth; Intuitively we know that this is a space with a degree of performance, with its distinct character, either topographical or cultural, and above all a space shared by a group of people; and when we go beyond the dictionary definition of landscape and examine the word itself we find that our intuition is correct” (Jackson, 1986, p.5). Hence in the research Trás-os-Montes’ landscape is read, not just as an inert scenario, but as a set of dynamic mirrors that engage actively and effectively, reflecting the narratives of the history of rural women in this territory.

In Foucault’s text (1984), the author introduces the mirror as a metaphorical construction that harbors utopian and heterotopian qualities. While

acknowledging Foucault’s assertion that utopias can’t be a place, my interpretation of Trás-osMontes as a utopia challenges this notion. I argue that the landscape, when viewed through the lens of women’s narratives, becomes an act of utopia outside of a specific physical location.

It is not a utopia in the traditional sense of a concrete place but rather an experiential utopia, where the act of femininity in the landscape transcends physical space. Analyzing the utopia of Trás-os-Montes, the landscape reveals itself as the mirror, a concept articulated by Foucault in the following passage: “The mirror is, after all, a utopia, as it is a place without a place. In the mirror, I see myself where I am not, in an unreal, virtual space, which opens up behind the surface…”. I propose a connection with the characteristics described by Foucault in five aspects.

Firstly in the placeless utopia, with the landscape as a mirror, transcending a specific physical location, creating a feeling of placelessness. Trás-

Fig. 3: Temporal Layers: Three rectangles, three temporalities converge, each narrating a layer of Trás-os-Montes’ landscape.

The research allowed the create a palimpsest and this image is a visual meditation on heterotopia with a vintage landscape, a purple portal of female utopia, and a contemporary scene embodying an atemporal interplay.

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os-Montes, as a utopia, presents an idealized form of patriarchal society through the cultural expressions represented by the documentary.

Secondly, in the idea of virtual space behind the surface, understanding that the landscape acts as this virtual space, especially when considered through the lens of female narratives in space, is something metaphysical. The depth of the history of Trás-os-Montes written in the investigation unfolds as a virtual space behind the visible dimension, echoing Foucault’s description of the mirror. The third aspect concerns counter-action, with the mirror, the landscape, according to Jackson (1986), exerting an action contrary to the physical position. In this way, it challenges the most palpable spatial perceptions common to architectural discourse, providing a counter-spatial experience, contesting and inverting social and disciplinary norms. The fourth aspect is related to the discovery of absence, with Foucault observing that the mirror allows us to discover our absence in the physical place we occupy. The landscape of Trás-os-Montes, as a concept that requires the experience of a body to exist, allows the discovery of the absence of narratives, provoking a reconsideration of historical discourse and the land-memory search, that is heterotopia. In this sense, it is the existence of the landscape, which leads us to heterotopic narratives, and once we reach the ‘portal’, we pass

to the other side of the mirror. Finally, it deals with the aspect of the real/unreal dichotomy.

Trás-os-Montes is at the same time absolutely real, linked to the surrounding space and the physical characteristics of the territory, and unreal, perceived through a virtual point, a bodymind in a distinct space-time. The landscape, with its tangible existence and representation of counter-social locations, embodies this dual nature as conceptualized by Foucault, serving simultaneously as a utopia and a heterotopia.

Temporalities of Inês & sênI Within the Trás-os-Montes landscape, the amalgamation of temporalities emerges as a central focus, revealing an interplay between past and present, each representing distinct but interconnected timelines. According to Foucault, heterotopia emerges when there is an ‘absolute break with traditional time.’ The intertwining spatial perceptions of me and Inês, derived from our experiences in the territory, challenge the linear interpretation of time, paving the way for the landscape’s memory to be construed as a heterotopic space.

Essentially, Trás-os-Montes acts as a palimpsest, preserving imprints from diverse periods. The utopian essence of rural women serves as a catalyst, enabling the simultaneous visibility of

disparate historical moments. Here, the concerns of the present actively rewrite and represent the past. This intertemporal nexus transforms the landscape into a vibrant repository of history, beckoning readers to transcend the confines of linear chronicles and perhaps forge their experiential heterotopias.

The convergence of temporalities, propelled by the utopian foundation, offers awareness of the interconnected experiences of Inês de Jesus’ body in Trás-os-Montes and mine, her great-granddaughter’s, later exploration of the ‘same’ territory. It is not merely a passive witnessing of time but an active bodily participation in an ongoing past/present dialogue, synthesizing the utopian potential inherent in the land. Beyond being a mirror, the landscape becomes a conduit through which the convergence of temporalities is not only observed but actively embraced by the body. By exploring Trás-os-Montes as an idealized territory, the linear progression of narratives was transcended, inviting a reevaluation of conventional academic approaches. Inês and Inês meet in the landscape at simultaneously different times.

Landscape’s Memory and Heterotopic Narratives By drawing the paths of rural women across the landscape, this exploration of Trás os-Montes encapsulates heterotopic narratives that transcend conventional academic ideas. The investigation into Inês de Jesus is a microcosm for understanding memory as a heterotopia.

Going through mapping the paths of my Inês creates a space, allowing us to understand the dimension of memory as a heterotopia, breaking the linear chronologies of the patriarchal vision that erased the history of rural women.

Embodying the fragmented and mirrored nature of remembrance, in this landscape, the writing and the visual became a bridge that connects the reader to the author’s experience of multiple temporalities, allowing a nuanced understanding of the collective consciousness of the territory.

If Trás-os-Montes is a utopia, and the landscape is the mirror, then the memory of it from Inês de Jesus and perceived by me, is a heterotopia.

Spatial impressions are a complex interaction of personal memories and collective narratives. The reminiscences of the Trás-os-Montes landscape appear as a heterotopia, transcending time and allowing the rewriting of the collective memory, from a female point of view, making historical voids now resonate as contemporary narratives.

This phenomenon allows the evocation of the landscape to be interpreted as a heterotopia, with visual representation being a key element in unveiling it. The photographs used in the collages, with their frozen moments, offer glimpses of different eras, creating a heterotopic experience where the past is not confined to a fixed point of view, but exists in perpetual dialogue with the present. Maps, as visual representations of spatial configurations, contribute to the utopian nature of memory by allowing individuals to simultaneously navigate geographic and temporal territories. The visual dimension, along with the words written in the feminine, creates a differentiated understanding of the timeless dimensions incorporated in the mnemonic fabric. The landscape functions as a reservoir of collective narratives and is the hinge for the heterotopic game between the remembered and the forgotten. The past is not linear, it is a fragmented, mirrored, and reinterpreted space.

In essence, this essay reflects on the complexities of human existence, social structures, and architectural research. Interpreting the master research is an invitation to the reader to navigate the heterotopic nature of landscape memory, embracing the simultaneous experience of utopias and heterotopias, challenging perceptions, and contributing to an ongoing reconstitution of common narratives. When going behind the mountains with the thesis journey it is recognized that, like the boat in Foucault’s contemplation, I also take the reader to a heterotopia.

There is a place without a place that offers a reserve of imagination to those who enter the landscapes’ memory.

References: Beauvoir, S. (1956 [1949]). The Second Sex. (“Le Deuxième Sexe” in 1949, originally published in French by Librairie Gallimard). Jonathan Cape Publisher. London de Certeu, M. (1984). The Practice of Everyday Life. University of California Press.

Debord, G. (1958). Theory of the Dérive. In “Internationale Situationniste”, nº2. Paris Foucault, M. (1984 [1967]). Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias. In Architecture / Mouvement/ Continuité, October 1984, (“Des Espace Autres” in March 1967, translated from the French by Jay Miskowiec). MIT Press.

Cambridge Jackson, J. B. (1986). Discovering the Vernacular Landscape.Yale University Press.

Connecticut Oliveira, I. (2022). Percursos de Inês de Jesus: lugares-do-saber na paisagem. Dissertação de Mestrado. Universidade do Minho.

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Queering the Status-Quo A Conversation with Poligonal Interview conducted by Anmol Bhargava, Feike Smithuis & Johanna Zehntner with support of Melanie Marshal

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As part of the Tbilisi Architecture Biennale 2020, project “Queering Common Space” initiated by Poligonal showcases queer experiences from Tbilisi and Berlin.

In “Constellations”, the collective explores queer spaces that no longer exist through a series of performative audiowalks and a celebratory festival. Both projects can be interpreted as dynamic engagement with the concept of ‘heterotopia’, fostering online spaces and offline performances that challenge norms and binary conceptions as well as time spectrums within the urban landscape.

The interview talks about the political aspects of queering practices, their context-specific nature, and the temporal dimension of queer urban spaces. The projects emphasize archiving as a catalyst for societal change and urban evolution, challenging norms and shaping the present and future. The collective also discusses the importance of alternative methods, such as festivals and audio walks, in understanding and imagining urban transformations.

POLIGONAL delves into the intersections of urban practice, urban communication, and architecture, combining artistic and curatorial methods. The Berlin-based collective, led by Christian Haid (C in text) and Lukas Staudinger (L in text), presents alternative viewpoints through online and offline platforms which explore urban and sociological themes across disciplines. Their projects span various initiatives such as interactive websites, audio experiences, and curatorial endeavours on urban transformation, marginalisation, and queer narratives.

Fig. 1:*(Pleshka) - A place for communication, meetings and search for sexual partners (including for a fee) of homosexuals and persons who practice same-sex sex, located, as a rule, in cities in squares, in parks and squares, near monuments and fountains. (2020) by David Apakidze. accessed via queeringspace.xyz

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Are you familiar with the concept of Heterotopia and have you previously used it in either these two or other projects?

Yes, we are familiar with the concept.

C I used to work with it when I was a student many years ago. It is potentially very helpful but very concretely it hasn’t played a role in the projects that we are going to talk about. However, I can see that they sort of relate to the concept.

L And we are very curious about how you will relate Heterotopias with our projects.

So this interview will actually be very exciting for us as well.

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Queering Common Space Dirty laundry, public transport experiences, and cyborgs are part of the living archive that is “Queering Common Space”. Showcasing the daily experiences of queer people mainly in Berlin and Tbilisi the digital platform does not reference specific locations or, specific queer urban typologies but explores sometimes generic spaces through queer perspectives.

Otherness in this case is embodied not by clear spatial boundaries but by a set of distinct codes and practices. Although acts of queering can be understood as concrete utopian experiments, contrary to Shane (2005) queering of everyday spaces in this case unsettles the dominant society. Through this lens, urban spaces undergo a redefinition, showcasing an elasticity that embraces kissing, protesting, or cruising.

Fig. 2: Screenshot of the Website for “Queering Common Space” (2024) by Haid & Staudinger. www.queeringspace. xyz

What led you to start this project and engage with the artists who contributed to the digital archive?

The curators from the Biennale were C interested in the way we conceptualise queering practices in the urban context, so they approached us to submit a proposal. We proposed an on site. But then the pandemic came along and it became the digital project that it turned out to be.

L Eventually the online archive “Queering Common Space” turned out to be a really interesting format for working on aspects of archiving queer practices. The pandemic and the change of circumstances also changed our curatorial practice within the project itself and the focus somehow. We were limited to certain methods, techniques and tools that were available at that time. This actually allowed us to explore new grounds that we wouldn’t have explored otherwise.

C An online archive is probably not the most typical contribution to an Architecture Biennale, because the concept of space is very immaterial. However, this reflects our understanding of space as shaped and produced by certain practices, more than by walls and ceilings and openings. It is our believe that groups and communities such as queer communities can only constitute themselves by producing space (Lefebvre, 1991).

In what ways are these practices that shape the spaces referenced in “Queering Common Space” a form of political action?

Our point of departure was always to C connect queerness to space in some way, but not to talk about queer space if queer was a property of space, because we don’t believe this exists. Of course we talk about queer bars or venues, but we are always more interested in queering practices in general. The name of the project thus references this form of action or routine.

“In consequence, any space can potentially be queered. To expand on this idea of queering a space, you could say that it is an action performed by queer people.

But we would like to go further and understand queering as it is also referenced in Queer Theory as subverting the norms, challenging normativity, and moving beyond binaries.”

Therefore, these spaces are definitely very political because they are always challenging the status quo. Some of the contributions to the archive very much challenge common conceptions on what is public space, who is visible in public space and in what way. They question norms on safety or safer spaces: who feels safe in what space, under what conditions, during what time; depending on the colour of my skin, hair colour or whether my nails are painted or whether I’m wearing high heels.

How are queering practices context-specific considering that the project “Queering Common Space” references practices both from Tbilisi and Berlin which offer different cultural and political situations?

This is a question that we often have L to answer because it’s almost inherent in the project. Of course, it is very important to consider the cultural and political contexts. But we refuse to say, in Berlin it’s like this and in Tbilisi it’s like that. Experiences are also very individual, very unique and very context-related. And it depends very much on the social groups that you are surrounded by. We listened to stories that were very painful and violent in both cities. So I would never dare to say, cliché-wise, that Berlin is a queer paradise. That is not the case. And it’s also not the case that everyone in Tbilisi is constantly suffering from social repression and discrimination. Those very simplistic juxtapositions will never tell the whole story. And since we always argue against binary argumentations, we would also argue against comparing those two cities. Comparing where it is better and where worse is not getting us much further. You can never say that your experience is less harmful than mine, or that your joys are more joyful than mine.

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Constellations 54

How would you describe the temporality of queer urban spaces or queering urban spaces? Does this affect the characteristics of these spaces, and how is it reflected in the project, Constellations?

as lockdowns or other crises. This research then opened a whole new world for us. We identified so many spaces, activities, and things that have happened in Berlin, that we had no idea about We heard amazing stories of places in the 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s and came to realize that the link to the present does not happen happen because nowadays few know about these spaces and queer practices. Some of the people we met that were active during these decades said. “hey, but we’ve already done that, and now only few seem to know that we prepared the path for future back then’’. So we identified this disconnect between what is happening now in the city and what has happened before. These two parts often do not inform each other. Thus, a main motivation of the project was to establish this archive to connect these stories. Also to say, that the struggle is not new. The vulnerability roots in many causes. Apart from economic reasons and gentrification, reasons why queer spaces disappear are also very personal, such as collectives or friendships that fall apart, or people getting older…

C This project came to us on a very personal level. During Covid, we saw a lot of queer spaces that were dear to us closing down, mostly for economic reasons. This sparked an interest in researching these spaces, generally asking the question- why queer spaces are so vulnerable to changing situations or circumstances such

L … People get sick, people do not get along anymore. It’s very interesting to look at general urban transformation processes through the lens of spaces used by queer people. Because as most marginalised vulnerable groups, these spaces are more affected by urban transformation processes. And talking about temporality:

As a Berlin-wide initiative “Constellations’’ explored vanished queer urban spaces through an interactive online platform and collective and performative audio walks. It highlights sites of queer visibility, experimental housing, safe(r) spaces, and those lost to gentrification. In March 2023, a three day festival re-lived these past stories through a series of performances, concerts, lectures, and other activities.

Foucault’s (1986) third and fourth principles of the ‘Heterotopia’ apply here: The project understood through its series of events which juxtapose the past and lost space with the existing space of the present also disrupts the traditional timeline by reviving the past through a present experience.

Fig. 3: Screenshot of the Website for “Constellations” (2024) by Haid & Staudinger. www.constellations-archive.net

Looking at the queer historiography of the last decades here in Berlin, listening to all these oral histories, and talking to people who were actually involved in certain movements in the 70s and 80s allowed us to make more informed comments on the current situation. At the same time this knowledge enabled us to create a perspective for the future.

“Something that we have always found very beautiful, also on a poetic level or on an artistic level is that the festival “Constellations” has really connected those three time spectrums: past, present and future.”

Working with historical knowledge, reinterpreting it with contemporary art and through this allowing comments on potential futures worked really well.

C Some places featured in the festiva were no longer used by queers or no longer associated with queering practices, but for that one night, they were queered once again. This was a very beautiful and rewarding experience.

We also received a lot of positive feedback to

Fig. 4: Collage (2023) by Hani Porter based on Kostümfest im Institut für Sexualwissenschaft (archive of the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaft)

continue, which we will, fingers crossed, in the second edition of “Constellations” next year.

L Our research and curating the festival has really allowed us to get a better understanding of urban design processes and urban transformation processes in general. We are both teaching urban design from our perspective as urban practitioners, we really want to stress the significance of a queer perspective in understanding how urban contexts are changing and eventually making this a fundamental part of planning strategies.

So you also place an importance on archiving these older stories to move forward in a way?

L Absolutely. Especially because there are a lot of gaps and voids in the whole of queer history. Because, as we all know, archiving is also a powerful tool. Who archives what and why? The question is always whose stories are being archived and whose stories are going to be remembered. As we all know, the stories of marginalised groups or groups that fall outside the norm are sometimes forgotten. And that is also why “Constellations” tries at least to contribute to this endeavour of filling some of those gaps and to make the historiography more continuous.

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Fig. 5: Photograph of the performance “Sprouts for Queer Love” (2023) conceived by Shu Lea Cheang & Hani Portner and performed

by Po-Nien Wang

the research that we have done. This approach allowed us to bring new contemporary and very site-specific perspectives to the festival. We like to think about it as a link between the archive and the actual urban space of the here and now.

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Queering the Archive & Queering Spatial Design Both projects emphasise archiving as a pivotal aspect. An archive, in its traditional sense of museums and libraries, accumulates time and embodies the fourth principle of ‘heterotopia’ (Foucault, 1986). However, these archives extend beyond mere accumulation and seek to inspire and transform current and future urban environments. The concept of ‘Queering the Archive’ thus serves as a catalyst for change within the dominant system challenging societal norms, according to Shane (2005). By re-imagining the archive’s role, these projects actively contribute to a dynamic process of cultural and urban evolution, fostering a narrative that transcends historical preservation to actively shape the present and future.

In both projects you use alternative methods to re-live spaces, such as a festival or audio walks. What is the idea behind using these methods that are often connected to a performance?

L Especially in regard to the festival “Constellations:, those performances were all concieved by artists and other performers themselves, who based their contributions on

C In our practice, we are always interested in communication formats. How can certain ideas and information be transported? How do those formats have to change according to the topic? The audio format has become very important for us in general. With “Constellations”, we specifically worked with oral histories and audio formats in order to remember those places, which is a very interesting format because it conveys speech and information, but at the same time also atmospheres and feelings.

Some of the contributions are more artistic and more collage-like, whereas others are more information based. Importantly, all our audio formats are connected to a concrete urban space. Therefore, we established the format of collective listenings where we would listen to an audio piece on site as a community and not individually. So for us, this is another form of bodily claiming or re-caliming that space through the act of listening. We are very keen on exploring this format in different ways. In a way it’s not an audio format in the conventional sense, it’s a full spatial and bodily experience.

You describe these methods as very effective in understanding the past and present of urban transformation. Can it also be related to future aspirations or even design interventions?

When you deal with urban design or L architectural design, you always have to deal with a social context, a material context, and a historical context. So these projects provide this. Moreover, the method of collective listening temporarily creates a community of people who are interested in those spaces and invites other people who are non-experts to imagine those spaces for the future. But It has never been thought of as a design tool in the strictest sense. But I can imagine that one can think

Fig. 6: A photograph taken during the Collective Listening during Constellations Festival

about it along this line and develop something.

As of now, it is clearly a forum not only for urban planning, architecture, and history in the case of “Constellations” but also art, performance, dance, and music with people who actually all think about urban futures but in different ways with different techniques and methods. This is a very queer approach: allowing this interdisciplinarity and trans-sectional approach of tackling urban issues. This is not the norm. And I think in that way the festival has the potential to inform the way in which we should be planning our cities in the future.

Have you witnessed aspects of queer theory and other concepts you use being incorporated in general academia or even planning practices?

L We have especially received feedback from younger audiences to incorporate some of our concepts into their curriculum at university.

So we could definitely witness a strong craving for these alternative approaches.

In planning, some projects that come C to mind are projects initiated by queer groups themselves like housing projects or care homes.

In general, the increased trend of public participation in planning practices also often includes marginalised or queer groups. But this

concept of ‘Heterotopia’ has got me thinking how queering practices can in some way influence urban development. One way I really want to think about urban planning in relation to queerness is how can queer theory influence urban planning without just focusing on queer groups but beyond: for example, having a queer perspective addresses issues beyond binaries, beyond normativity, and includes diversity. So the queer ‘Heterotopia’ is a system of anti-norm and opposition within the existing. I can understand some of our projects as part of a ‘Heterotopia’ as they are exceptions to the norm. So it’s a counter-system of itself embedded in a system.

But what if it transcends this system and the counter system becomes the mainstream?

References: 1. Haid, C., & Staudinger, L. (2024a). Constellations. Celebrating Queer Spaces that no Longer Exist. Retrieved 12 January 2024, from https:// constellations-archive.net/info 2. Haid, C., & Staudinger, L. (2024b). queeringspace.xyz—Impressum. https://www. queeringspace.xyz/impressum.html 3. Foucault, M. et al. (1986). Of Other Spaces.

Diacritics, 16(1), 22–27. Available at: https:// doi.org/10.2307/464648 4. Lefebvre, H. (1991). The production of space.

Blackwell.

5.Shane, D. G. (2005). Recombinant urbanism: Conceptual modeling in architecture, urban design, and city theory (1st ed.). Wiley-Academy

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The Duality of Heterotopias Unpacking Poland’s Dichotomy of Exclusion and Inclusion Małgorzata Rybak

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Drawing on Foucault’s concept of heterotopia (2008) and power relations (1982), this paper explores the duality of heterotopias in Poland. Starting with an examination of the coexistence of LGBT-free zones and queer spaces, it navigates the intricate interplay between political dynamics, space and societal norms in Poland.

Queerness and heterotopia are linked by their shared tendency to challenge norms and create alternative spaces. However, the idea of LGBT-free zones in Poland could be seen as an attempt to create a heterotopic space within the larger social context as well. These zones, proclaimed by certain municipalities in Poland, have aimed to oppose or reject LGBT ideals and rights by marking a space where certain norms or values differ significantly from those of the wider society. By June 2020, nearly one third of Poland had become known as an ‘LGBT-free zone’, which poses a question: How big heterotopia can become?

Understanding the political dimensions adds layers to the discussion, highlighting how heterotopias are not just isolated spaces, but are deeply embedded in the larger socio-political landscape, reflecting and influencing power relations within society.

Fig. 1: Exploded Map of Poland presenting change in political division and in ‘LGBT free zones’ from 2019 to 2023. Data from the Polish Central Statistical Office and atlasnienawisci.pl. Graphics made by Małgorzata Rybak

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February 2019 was expected to mark a significant turning point in Poland, as the country aimed to take its first steps towards greater inclusion and tolerance for non-heteronormative individuals. Rafał Trzaskowski, the mayor of Warsaw, signed a declaration in support of LGBTQIA+ rights and expressed his commitment to follow the World Health Organization’s guidelines on sexual education standards (Urząd Miasta Warszawa, 2019). This was the first such document in a Polish muncipality, defining the city’s policy towards non-heteronormative Varsovians1. At the time, however, Poland had been governed for four years by a conservative majority government with another four years to go. The politicians from the Law and Justice (PiS) party caused strong opposition to the progressive Varsavian mayor. They argued that this new programme would sexualise children and pose a threat to Poland. This was enough to ignite the slow-burning division and intolerance in Polish society. Instead of building solidarity, the political forces focused on imposing the idea of a ‘perfect Polish person’. This dynamic is what Foucault called “dividing practices” in his work “The Subject and Power” (1982). One might ask, how does it affect spatial dilemmas?

As a reaction to the changes in Warsaw, anti-LGBT resolutions were quickly drafted by the

lowest administrative bodies (gminy), which supported the “Family Charter”, a document that hides homophobia and danger for the queer community behind so-called ‘perfect family’ values. By June 2020, almost a third of Poland had become known as an “LGBT-free zone” (Jabłonowski, 2020). The undeniable and dangerous relationship between political power and spaces of exclusion became clearly visible.

In response, activist and director Bart Staszewski travelled to these unwelcome spaces and marked them with the sign “LGBT free zone” (Ambroziak, 2020). Other activists Jakub Gawron, Paulina Pająk, Paweł Prenet and Kamil Maczuga mapped these areas and created the “Atlas of Hate”, available online (Atlas of Hate, n. d.).

The “Other” This emergence of non-binary activists and binary supporters creating forms of site-specific spatial insurgency - protests, LGBTQIA+ hotels, libraries, clubs, cafes, foundations - can be observed all over the world, not only in Poland, and marks certain transitions in the global community. Queerness as a concept encompasses an expansive understanding of identities and expressions that doesn’t conform to conventional norms. It challenges fixed categories of

Fig. 2: Mapped Queer Experience from Queeringthemap.com 1: Varsovian: a native or resident of Warsaw, Poland

sexuality, gender and identity and promotes fluidity and non-conformity. Queer theory is reflected in spaces of insurgency, which are in a sense a marker of spatial disorder. When applied spatially, it highlights unclassifiable differences or marginalisation, rather than simply emphasising sexuality itself (Ghandy, 2012).

Queerness and heterotopia are linked by their common tendency to challenge norms and create alternative spaces. If we bring into the discussion Foucault’s principles of heterotopia or the principle of “heterotopia of deviation” and support it with Lefebvre’s view of heterotopia as “places that are other” or at least spatially or socially disordered, we cannot deny its connection to queered spaces (Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986; Elden, 2009).

Conflicting Heterotopias What raises my curiosity is the dichotomy of exclusion and inclusion in Poland. After all, heterotopias present themselves in relation to their surroundings (Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986).

The idea of “LGBT+ free zones” in Poland could be seen as an attempt to create a heterotopic space within the larger social context. These zones, proclaimed by certain municipalities in Poland, aim to oppose or reject LGBT+ ideals and rights by marking a space where certain norms or values differ significantly from those of western society. Nevertheless, it is known that the “LGBT free zone” can never and did never mean without queer people, but these zones order them to shed any expression of their identity. They are juxtaposed with the wider territory where all Polish citizens, regardless of their sexual orientation, have the right to travel and live in the country. Anyhow, within these zones, some of them are excluded by the very fact of entering them (Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986). Time plays an important role in this phenomenon: “Heterotopia begins to function at full capacity when men arrive at a sort of absolute break with their traditional time” (Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986, p.26). It marks a moment of transition in Polish society, and reflects a socio-political struggle in space. There is a danger that Foucault mentioned in his work: “The relationship between rationalization and excesses of political power is evident. And we should not need to wait for bureaucracy or concentration camps to recognize the existence of such relations”. (1982, p. 779). On the one hand, there are these zones that symbolise the influence of certain political factions that want

to reinforce traditional values and social norms.

On the other hand, there is the backlash against these zones by LGBTQ+ activists and allies who are challenging these exclusionary spaces. What can be done in the face of such dangerously contradicting heterotopias?

We can observe the recent impulse to “tidy up” or “smooth” the city, which may be linked to a particular conception of morality and public culture (Ghandy, 2012; Boer, 2023).

“But the world we live in is heterogeneous, full of intertwined and interrelated spaces.

Denying ourselves diversity and complexity deprives us of the stimulation from ‘outside’ that we need to develop self-knowledge”. (Sennett, 2023) For Richard Sennett, this can be a risk of “sensory death” - an inability to learn new things or perspectives. Suggested and worth developing is the idea of creating opportunities for interaction, making the edges of society more porous to counteract dangerous exclusion and intolerance. The kind of power that turns individuals into subjects and offers only formal solutions should also be critically evaluated. It is important to recognise the political value in the resistance and insurgency actions of queer collectives.

“Grassroots oppositional practices invent new spaces of citizenship practice and offer a significant force transcending legal civil citizenship to achieve substantive citizenship”. (Mirtafab, 2004) Conclusion Understanding the political dimension adds another layer to the discussion, highlighting how heterotopias are not just isolated spaces, but are deeply embedded in the larger socio-political landscape, reflecting and influencing power relations within society. The recent struggle in Poland is a warning sign. The challenge for the next government will be to move away from divisive politics and uncover what lies beneath the conflicting heterotopias.

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In a given context, their emergence symbolises transformation, but also a potentially huge risk for a marginalised group. Adequate support from the relevant authorities is needed to ensure that they do not become dangerous places.

“We are in the epoch of simultaneity: we are in the epoch of juxtaposition, the epoch of the near and far, of the side-by-side, of the dispersed.” (Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986)

Fig. 3: Collage of landscape change from urban to remote areas in Poland by Małgorzata Rybak

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Heterotopias are worth observing, their otherness, their ability to create new possibilities.

They are needed to stimulate society and to create “means of escape” for the ‘other’, for the new, for creativity (Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986).

Perhaps it is time to stop thinking of the world as binary and allow ourselves to introduce complexity and teach our future generation the capacity that humans have to contain and understand a complex, non-binary world.

Fig. 4: Other Mapped Queer Experience from Queeringthemap.

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References: 1. Ambroziak, A. (2020, January 24). Pokazał „strefy wolne od LGBT” i wywołał wstrząs [He showed ‘LGBT-free zones’ and caused a shock.]. Oko.press. https://oko.press/strefawolna-od-lgbt-bart-staszewski 2. Atlas of Hate. (n. d.) [Atlas of Hate, Map of discriminatory local government resolutions in Poland] Retrieved December 29, 2023, from https://atlasnienawisci.pl/ 3. Boer, R. (2023) Smooth City. Against Urban Perfection, Towards Collective Alternatives.

Valiz.

4. Elden, S. (2009) Heterotopia. The Dictionary of Human Geography by Gregory, D., Johnston, R., Pratt, G., Watts, M., & Whatmore, S. (Eds.). (pp. 330) Wiley-Blackwell.

5. Foucault, M., & Miskowiec, J. (1986). Of Other Spaces. In Diacritics: Vol. Vol. 16, No. 1 (pp.

22–27). The Johns Hopkins University Press. http://www.jstor.org/stable/464648 .

6. Foucault, M. (1980). The Eye of Power. In Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977 by Michel Foucault (pp. 146–165). Pantheon Books.

7. Foucault, M. (1982). The Subject and Power.

Critical Inquiry, 8(4), 777–795. https://about. jstor.org/terms 8. Gandy, M. (2012). Queer ecology: Nature, sexuality, and heterotopic alliances. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 30(4), 727–747. https://doi.org/10.1068/d10511 9. Jabłonowski, K. (2020, February 24) Jedna trzecia Polaków w “strefach wolnych od LGBT”? Sprawdzamy [A third of Poles in ‘LGBTfree zones’? We check]. Konkret24. https:// konkret24.tvn24.pl/polska/jedna-trzecia-polakow-w-strefach-wolnych-od-lgbt-sprawdzamyra1005859-ls5789464 10. Miraftab, F. (2004). Invited and Invented Spaces of Participation: Neoliberal Citizenship and Feminists’ Expanded Notion of Politics.

Wagadu: A Journal of Transnational Women’s & Gender Studies, 1(1), 3.

11. Presenter # Sennett, R. (2023, November 26th). AR3U115 Interiority and the Open City [Recorded lecture]. Graduation Lab Urbanism, Delft. https://collegeramavideoportal.tudelft.nl/ catalogue/ar3u115/presentation/7e36a02b91b04c87bd72826f32d2a6631d ?academicYear=2023-2024-ar3u115 12. Urząd Miasta Warszawa. (2019, February 18). Prezydent stolicy podpisał Deklarację LGBT+ [The mayor of the capital city signed the LGBT+ Declaration]. Warsaw Official City Portal. https://um.warszawa.pl/-/prezydent-stolicy-podpisal-deklaracje-lgbt-

Heterotopias of Intolerance

Algirdas Ramonas

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In 2021, while studying in my first year of Masters, in the lecture of my thesis mentor-to-be, Gregory Bracken, for the first time in my life I learned about the concept of heterotopia. During the debate, mostly focused on Foucault’s initial paper on heterotopia, I noted down a simple sentence: People do not understand heterotopias, hence they are afraid of them.

Studies continued, the rain of new concepts poured heavily, and the idea of heterotopias slowly lost my interest.

Until it returned in my thesis one year later in the form of a quote from my beloved movie: And you always fear what you don’t understand.

(Fig 1.) (Nolan, 2005) Consciously or not, this thread of Foucault’s concept helped me to build my graduation project. Yet I did not discuss the connection in my thesis. Therefore in this essay I will address this issue by positioning my research into the wider debate on the counter-spaces known as heterotopias.

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Fig. 1: Snapshot from the movie “Batman Begins” (Nolan, 2005).

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In my thesis I analysed the relationship between tolerance and environment, and how spatial and policy planning could be used to foster more tolerant attitudes towards difference in everyday Kaunas, Lithuania. I used various methods and disciplines. For instance, I investigated multiple case studies, some of which I used as specific examples in this essay. There are a few imperative outcomes of my research. Firstly, I proposed a new theoretical framework of tolerance (Fig 2.), followed by a new definition of tolerance. It states that tolerance is a process which, through encounter, transforms one state of being into another, meaning that tolerant attitudes are in constant flux. This process is affected by societal conditions for tolerance and by forces affecting attitudes. Through extensive investigation in Kaunas, I spotlighted a force affecting people’s attitudes in Lithuania – the Tolerance Event. It is a concentrated form of encounter, rupturing the status quo and allowing for groups to get to know other groups. Based on this theory, I proposed multiple strategies to show how Tolerance Events could be used in everyday Kaunas (Ramonas, 2023).

where no group could gain majority power. Due to high accessibility norm spaces cannot be considered heterotopias, because, as Foucault wrote, “ heterotopias always presuppose a system of opening and closing that both isolates them and makes them penetrable” (Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986). Norm spaces are sites rather than counter-sites. However, power balance is fragile and spaces of tolerance, like tolerance itself, are in constant flux. Therefore norm space can become heterotopia when it is transformed from site to counter-site. Square can be built over into a museum (“heterotopias of indefinitely accumulating time” (ibid)), which has behaviour rules set up by the owners for the visitors to interact, making it a rule space. However, the same square can shortly be occupied by one group, as in the case of Kaunas Pride 2021, making it at the same time a controlled space, since there is one predominant group which sets up norms, and heterotopia, due to it being “absolutely temporal” (ibid). In this article, I will focus on controlled space, because I believe it can add the most to the debate of tolerance and heterotopias.

However, one element of my thesis is the most important to the debate on heterotopias – spaces of tolerance. Based on who sets up the norms and rules I characterised the relationship between tolerance and space using three categories - controlled, rule, and norm spaces (Fig 3.). The latter is the place where no group has direct control, therefore its users follow norms to guide interactions. It is a public, fully permeable space, such as streets or squares, and sometimes public buildings, such as libraries,

Controlled spaces are enclaves that bring like-minded people together in the safe or common ground. It is important to show on what terms they become heterotopias, because as Shane argued, “much of the confusion about heterotopias arises because they are, in fact, complex enclaves and enclaves are everywhere in the city” (2005). In my thesis, I further divided controlled spaces based on what connects them (Fig 4.). If people are connected by their choice and place of living, it forms a neighbour-

Fig. 2: Theoretical Framework of Tolerance and Tolerance Event by Algirdas Ramonas

hood community. It is not a heterotopia, since it usually is a private, singular space belonging to the system and not depending on slices of time. People connected by individual traits and choices form urban tribes. Some of them, such as skateboarders gathering in the park, compose an enclave, while others, such as ravers in the nightclub, resemble heterotopias of illusion, exposing the unique desires of clubbers and making the outside world more illusionary. Segregated communities, based on places of living and need, are clear examples of heterotopias of deviation, where people not fitting into the norms of society are placed to be “healed” and “disciplined”.

Yet, I will focus extensively on those linked by need and individual characteristics - socially vulnerable groups. They can occupy space in very different manners – it can be a permanent space, such as Emma Social Centre, where discriminated minorities gather to have lunch, discussions, and events. It can be a temporary occupation of otherwise norm or rule space, such as the already mentioned Kaunas Pride.

They are open and closed-off spaces, since one group controls it an outside person can never fully enter. It depends and changes over time as societal norms always are in transition. The forced gathering and closure of these groups reflect the common norms surrounding them.

Consequently, these places are heterotopias.

otherwise and gather in other enclaves, but the codes of interaction, or as Foucault called them “mirrors”, push vulnerable groups outside to these counter-sites. Therefore I will call them heterotopias of intolerance.

Fig. 3: Categorisation of tolerance and space by Algirdas Ramonas

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They can be considered heterotopias of deviation since people there are outside of the contemporary societal norms. Additionally, they tend to be in crisis, not fitting into the common system.

They gather together to be in a safe space, away from the street that is “a place of challenge and insecurity” (Javaitytė, 2018). This makes these gatherings heterotopias of crisis. Finally, these concentrations are in a way heterotopias of illusion, considering that they make all the other sites seem empty from deviation and, therefore, more illusionary.

What additionally makes places of socially vulnerable groups different from the principles discussed by Foucault and Shane is that they are not system-created entities, but rather selfmade gatherings. People come to these places not because they are physically forced to, as in the case of prisons, but because societal views create dangerous environments elsewhere, making vulnerable groups seek safety and representation in the creation of their own spaces, as in Soho (LGBTQ+ community) club in Vilnius. Legally and technically they can do

Fig. 4: Four types of controlled spaces by Algirdas Ramonas

Fig. 5: A perspective into a brave tolerant city by Algirdas Ramonas

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What can these heterotopias of intolerance inform us about the debate on heterotopias in general? Firstly they are predominantly urban.

The formation of these places is based on the critical mass of people with common crises and deviations, and cities can provide the necessary conditions for it (Fischer, 1975, 1995). Consequently, heterotopias of intolerance are both part of the larger whole and outside of it. They belong to the city in general by being strongly connected to everyday urbanism (Crawford, 2008), either by occupying spaces based on casual needs, such as Godo Bar in Kaunas, or either by in part protesting against the neglect of these needs, as in the case of Baltic Prides. On the other hand, heterotopias of intolerance are outside the city because the sheer existence of these spaces fosters avoidance. It is the case of the “Caritas” Day Centre for people experiencing homelessness, which is a heavily detested place by other citizens in Kaunas. As a consequence of deviating from the common norms and being inside the urban body, heterotopias of intolerance generate a reaction from the conventional society. This response, or mirror, is the critical part of heterotopias of intolerance.

Shane argues that heterotopias are necessary because they can help to maintain the balance, but also to facilitate change of the dominant system (Shane, 2005). In the case of the heterotopias of intolerance, the balance is provided by creating a haven for the vulnerable communities, and the change of societal norms is enabled by

the reactions that they foster. The latter is an example of a Tolerance Event – a force affecting people’s attitudes. It is a connection that breaches the gap between inside and outside and connects heterotopias with the dominant city (Fig 6.). Tolerance Events mostly can be created by the discriminated communities themselves.

Therefore while heterotopias of intolerance cannot be designed, they can be empowered to create more links with the conventional society, in such a way becoming the imperative part of the process of tolerance.

In the same lecture on heterotopias more than two years ago, one student asked the professor: what is the practical importance of the concept of heterotopias? In this essay, I discussed critical tasks of the heterotopias of intolerance - provision of safety for people in crisis and power to foster change in attitudes. However, since they are reflections of the outside world, changing people’s attitudes would slowly eradicate related heterotopia of intolerance, making it a singular enclave. This is the paradox of heterotopias of intolerance – they are critical counter-sites, but their sheer existence uncovers deep societal issues. Foucault wrote in his critical paper, that “the heterotopia begins to function at full capacity when men arrive at a sort of absolute break with their traditional time.” (1986). Therefore heterotopias of intolerance expose darkness, but the more we see them, the more hope for tolerant societies there are.

Fig. 6: Diagram describing the relationship between different types of heterotopias and the city in general by Algirdas Ramonas

References: 1. Crawford, M. (2008). The current state of everyday urbanism. Everyday Urbanism, 12–15.

2. Fischer, C. S. (1975). Toward a Subcultural Theory of Urbanism. American Journal of Sociology, 80(6), 1319–1341.

JSTOR. 3. Fischer, C. S. (1995). The Subcultural Theory of Urbanism: A Twentieth-Year Assessment. American Journal of Sociology, 101(3), 543–577. JSTOR. 4. Foucault, M., & Miskowiec, J. (1986).

Of other spaces. Diacritics, 16(1), 22–27.

5. Javaitytė, S. (2018). Benamių Dienos Centras – Vieta, kur „Nematomi Žmonės” Jaučiasi Saugesni [The Homeless Day Center is a Place where “Invisible People” Feel Safer]. Kas Vyksta Kaune. https:// kaunas.kasvyksta.lt/2018/01/24/ miestas/benamiu-dienos-centras-vieta-kur-nematomi-zmones-jauciasi-saugesni/ 6. Nolan, C. (Director). (2005). Batman Begins. Warner Bros.; Syncopy; DC Comics.

7. Ramonas, A. (2023). Brave Tolerant

City: Planning for diversity forbearance in Kaunas [Master’s Thesis, Delft University of Technology]. https:// repository.tudelft.nl/islandora/object/ uuid%3A0e7f0686-4a09-43a6-b9127af00056479d 8. Shane, D. G. (2005). Recombinant Urbanism: Conceptual Modeling in Architecture, Urban Design and City Theory (1st ed.). Academy Press.

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From Theory to Design: Possibility to Develop a Heterotopian Urban Design Olgu Çalışkan

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This paper briefly reviews the conceptualization of heterotopia and its major aspects connoting a certain spatial morphology called ‘heterotopology’ that was originally introduced by M. Foucault in 1966. Though the concept has received some critical reflections in the social or architectural theory, it received relatively less attention from urbanism. It is despite the fact that one could suggest a strong relevance between the heterotopia thought and spatial design and planning, considering the notion that implies spaces that exist outside the conventional norms, alternatives to the social mainstream, and juxtaposition of the counter conditions within the same spatial context.

Highlighting the limitations of previous urban paradigms in addressing the complexity and diversity of contemporary society, one could also address the concept of heterotopia and its potential to offer new lenses on the pluralist urban condition through which urban designers have to operate. Drawing upon Foucault’s framework and insights from contemporary urban theorists, the paper explores how heterotopian principles can inform the design process by encouraging pluralism, diversity while ensuring a certain level of integrity and coherence.

To that aim, the paper presents some tactical solutions and strategies that would make heterotopology urbanistically operational by design. Exemplifying the previous attempts made by the author and his colleagues in different domains, the paper aims to illustrate how heterotopian thinking can foster inclusive, integrative, and adaptable urban environments that would generate the ideal ground for ‘living together differently but respectfully’ within the world of contingencies.

Fig. 1: “So Rome, whether imperial or papal, hard or soft, is here offered as some sort of model which might be envisaged as alternative to the disastrous urbanism of social engineering and total design.”

(Rowe and Koetter, 1978: 107) - The design scheme authored by C. Rowe and S. Peterson for the competition, Roma Interrotta, in 1978 (By courtesy of S. Peterson, 2018)

Introduction Representing an alternative spatial perspective on social diversity that recognizes the inherent capacity of distinct communities to generate their unique cultures within a larger setting of the collective fabric, the idea of heterotopia connotes a particular spatial morphology called ‘heterotopology’. Following Foucault, the concept of heterotopia has received critical reflections in social and architectural theory but little attention in urbanism. Despite this, I suggest a strong relevance between heterotopian thought and spatial planning and design, considering the concept’s inevitable spatial implication of diversity and juxtaposition of counter conditions within the same context. Highlighting the limitations of previous urban paradigms in addressing the complexity of contemporary society, I address the concept of heterotopia and its potential to offer new lenses on the pluralist urban condition in which urban designers have to operate.

This article presents some spatial strategies that could make heterotopology urbanistically operational by design. Exemplifying the previous attempts made by myself and my colleagues, I aim to illustrate how heterotopian thinking can foster inclusive, pluralist, integrative, and adaptable urban form that generates the ideal ground for ‘living together differently but respectfully’ within the world of contingencies.

Theoretical insight into heterotopology and its relevance in urbanism Despite the ongoing discussion surrounding diversity, contemporary design and planning practices rely heavily on the principle of ‘treating all people equally’ (Burayidi, 2015: p. 4–5).

However, we could propose a more assertive urbanist perspective, arguing that diversity and plurality are the assets of modern society rather than something that needs to be managed through planning and design. This perspective does not necessarily require a completely new theoretical foundation. It is mainly rooted in the early works addressing diversity in social theory (Park, 1952; Allport, 1954; DeLanda, 2006; Putnam, 2007) and the settled recognition of pluralism and heterogeneity as the principles of the ‘postmodern condition’ in the late 20th century (Harvey, 1990; Jameson, 1991).

The incongruous nature of modern society was spatially elaborated with the concept of ‘heterotopia’ by Michel Foucault in 1967. In the very short text after a lecture given to a group of architects, Foucault (1967) provided a broad and somewhat ambiguous framework for examining the issue and defined heterotopia as the juxtaposition of incompatible spaces where simultaneously represented and contested cultures coexist (p. 17). Then, Hetherington (1997) argued that the spatial imagery of heterotopia would encompass ‘multiple micro-utopias’ coexisting within the same spatial context (p.

11–14). In both perspectives, the concept implies socio-cultural heterogeneity in space and suggests a critical view of absolute coherence that neglects or suppresses local fragmentations, potentially allowing ‘the marginals’ to (co)exist within a larger context.

Simultaneously, contemporary urban design is largely built on the critique of modern planning and design, which tend to sterilize space by excluding ‘distractions’ (Sennett 1999 cited in Burayidi 2015, p. 5) and to form rather a homogeneous urban fabric. Then, the critical

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theory of urbanism formulated its normative standpoint by emphasizing the importance of social and functional diversity (Jacobs, 1961; Sennett, 1970). This perspective, later complemented by the concept of coherence proposed

by Alexander et al. (1987) and Salingaros (2000), aims to foster a pluralist and integrative public sphere. Appleyard (1976) initially discussed the idea of plurality through a planning experience designing urban structures that would respond to the city’s distinct set of social values and perceptions. Following Jacobs and Appleyard’s (1987) urban design manifesto in defense of diversity through the fine-grained urban fabric (p. 119), more recently, Ryan (2017) offered a historical outlook on plural urbanism, delving into the essential principles to ensure diversity through urban design.

Collage as a heterotopian view on urbanism

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In, ‘Collage City’, Rowe and Koetter (1978) salute the model of Antique Rome’s collage-like fabric with a subtle objection against the ‘total design’ approach of the utopian tradition in modern urbanism. Instead, the idealized collage system comprised many ‘vest pocket utopias’, which were juxtaposed and knitted up, somehow, in an accidental way. Borrowing the bricolage method from visual (cubist) art, Rowe suggested a formal perspective for the diversity of urban form. The critique has been epitomized by the iconic image for the competition Roma Interrotta in 1978 (Fig. 1).

Unlike the other entries as parts of the total area of Nolli’s Rome, Rowe’s team proposed a morphological model composed of a series of fragments, each with a distinct character. The fragments juxtaposed within a coherent fabric were borrowed from various precedents, such as John Nash’s terraces of Regents Park, the Uffizi Gallery, and Rockefeller Center (Peterson and Littenberg, 2020: 136). The patterns from different places were serving the elements of a new ‘invented history’. This actually corresponds with the idea of ‘indefinite accumulation of time’ that was considered one of the conditions of heterotopia by Foucault (1967: 20).

Rowe and Koetter (1978) contended that cities undergo construction in gradual fragments, each possessing distinct characteristics and interconnections with other pieces. Collectively, these fragments form a conceptual framework that shapes our perception of the city as a Cubist collage. Each fragment represents a lived world, a product of a specific historical period.

The distinctions among pieces contribute to the diversity and vibrancy inherent in urban life (Shane, 2000: 193).

Rowe and Koetter’s (1978) idea of collage implicitly responds to the notion of heterotopology This is acknowledged by Shane (2005) who developed a conceptual city model incorporating heterotopia as a constitutional component and suggested an original synthesis between heterotopology and collage.

The idea of a ‘collage city’ was elaborated on via long-term design research conducted through the studio education supervised by Rowe at Cornell University between 1964 and 1991.

The projects by Rowe’s students demonstrate a subtle search to reconcile traditional and modern urbanism via the fabrication of form in a diverse but holistic manner.

In the same period, Ungers developed a model called ‘Archipelago’ based on the idea of rebuilding the city as a series of fragments in the form of diverse architectural complexes inspired by Berlin’s city fabric (Ungers et al.

1979). Although they did not state clearly, the urban strategy, creating ‘a pluralist system of unresolved contradictions, instead of a unitary system’ (p. 126), indeed corresponds to a designerly perspective of the idea of heterotopia, as also argued by Vidler (2014).

Unger’s search for pluralist urbanism was creatively resolved within various conceptual design research projects using precedential knowledge, as in the case of the collagist methodology of Rowe. ‘The Urban Block and Gotham City’ Projectre represents a robust compositional skill supported by so-called metaphorical thinking (Fig. 2).

Despite a relatively long period after the initial declaration of collage as a pluralist approach to urbanism, few attempts have been made to systematize the notion based on solid spatial strategies. As a precursor in the field, Peterson (1979) -later on, Peterson and Littenberg (2020)- argued that the interpenetration of the fields (via overlapping edges of the fragments) and continuity of the texture (via extending and rechanneling the surrounding fabric into the development site) were the fundamental tactics of collage urbanism aiming for coherency within the multiplicity in space and form.

Fig. 2: The Gotham City Project conducted by O.M. Ungers’ Studio at Cornell (1976), demonstrating the rich thematic variations of the urban block imagined by various designers and assembled in the same hypothetical context. (Source: Ovaska (ed.) 1976, by the courtesy of Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library)

Some explorations for ‘heterotopian’ urban design: towards a control system Considering the theoretical framework constructed substantially over the last fifty years, I think it is time to develop explicit model perspectives operationalizing heterotopia in urbanism.

That indicates the need for a design control system ensuring the pluralist formation of urban fabric that, in turn, would respond to the spatiality of heterotopology. I hereby present some explorative studies that apply the heterotopian perspective on urban design through concrete tactics.

In this context, the spatial morphology discussed by Çalışkan, Cihanger Ribeiro, and Tümtürk (2020) could be regarded as an initial attempt to translate the theory into the design. In the same line as Shane (2005), who argued heterotopian perspective as a ‘morphogenetic matrix of possibilities’ through a kind of rule-based design framework, the authors provided a series of design codes that could serve for the generation of heterotopology. Being formulated and tested out within two consecutive design workshops, the codes aimed to enhance the internal characterization of the enclaves while enabling the particular modes of integration between themselves. While the ‘internal operations’ were conceptually defined by the intrinsic codes of different ideologies representing particular lifestyles, hypothetically, the ‘relational operations’ aimed to create a heterotopian interpretation of spatial coherence (Figure 3).

Accordingly, the two living fabrics (enclaves) could be related either by the so-called ‘spatial commonalities’ in the form of shared surfaces or patches acting as a kind of transition zone or through typological continuities of the built fabric via some subtle penetration of the dominant building types towards the neighboring fragment. In addition to the operation for morphological coherence, the syntactical integration

between the enclaves could be ensured by a series of linkages between the distinct local networks. At that point, ‘spatial commonalities between the enclaves’ could be considered the re-interpretation of the fundamental design tactic of collage, ‘the overlapping of edges and patterns between the fields’, while the ‘typological continuities’ we applied corresponds to ‘continuity of texture’ as argued by Peterson (1979) for the fabric of Roma Interrotta (p. 81).

The experimental design research enabled us to reflect on heterotopia as a spatial morphology critically. In this sense, the explored fabric would apparently alter the settled conception of spatial diversity based on the models of either the strong segregation within the same fabric (Fig. 4, left) or the maximum social diversity within mixed neighborhoods idealized by the critical theory (Appleyard, 1976; Talen and Lee, 2018).

(Fig. 4, middle). Instead, heterotopology would suggest a more (sociologically) realistic model based on the discrete positioning of the enclaves that still keep their local interactions via a series of designed thresholds (Fig. 4, right): vivid local communities within an integrated urban society.

Such a conceptual perspective to heterotopology was afterward systematized by Çalışkan and Barut (2022) on a computational basis to translate heterotopology into a generative control framework for multiple spatial productions in the city. Having devised an algorithmic setting along with a code-based parametric framework for the piecemeal development control of the collective urban fabric, the authors could provide a model framework that would generate the diverse characteristic fragments of urban form (or the so-called heterotopian enclaves) in a relational framework as initially experimented by Çalışkan et al. (2020).

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Fig. 3: The solid model produced by the codes of social ideologies (above) and the heterotopian tactics (the local morphological operations) of integrative transitions between the enclaves to generate the morphology simulated above (below) (Source: Çalışkan, Cihanger Ribeiro and Tümtürk, 2020: 44-45)

The algorithmic model has been applied on a 150-hectare urban land, subject to a fragmented transformation in Istanbul, Turkey. Designating the sectors to be developed through diverse fashions and programs, the model aims to ensure the structural integration between the fragments via a ‘spinal system’. Moreover, the so-called ‘transition zones’ are aimed to provide overall coherency via hybridizing the neighboring building types and suggesting a middle-range plot subdivision parametrically.

To diversify each enclave generatively, four different grid typologies have been identified and thematically varied by parametric manipulations. Then, the spinal route is generated flexibly following the network structure of each local tissue (Fig. 5-6). The point is that while the

Fig. 4: The suggested spatial model of heterotopology as opposed to the ‘pluralist city’ model (middle) argued by Appleyard (1976) (Source: Çalışkan, Cihanger Ribeiro and Tümtürk, 2020: 48)

Fig. 5: Parametric generation of urban grid typologies and their compositional variations (left), and the piecemeal generation of the fragments as distinct but connected enclaves through pivot points, transition zones, shortest path (spine), and attraction points (urban cores) (right) (Source: Çalışkan and Barut, 2022)

model conditions the real characterization of the enclaves, their internal variations through various singular building activity is controlled by the specified parameters such as average block and plot size, coverage, verticality, and FAR. The parametric development control model responding to the pluralist character of heterotopia with low-level control of space would potentially create a new urbanistic outlook to employ the generative urban elements which would interact with each other and consolidate the collective form of the city in a bottom-up manner (Çalışkan et al., 2020: 38). The proposed control model, undoubtedly, could be employed in urban contexts which acknowledges the democratic model of society respecting to the idea of ‘living together differently but respectfully’ (Webber 1978 cited in Healey, 1992, p. 150).

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Conclusion

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Urbanists, inherently intertwined with social theory, should recognize the latent potential of design in contributing to theory construction.

While such a standpoint might be perceived as ambitious, even within the discipline, the author asserts, based on relatively brief collective experience with the socio-philosophical concept of heterotopia, the validity of using design to substantiate ongoing theoretical discussions, including those on social diversity, inclusion, and integration.

The emerging discussions on spatial plurality, diversity, and heterotopia highlight the endur ing relevance of the foundational urban design theory, providing a significant basis for cultivating an operational perspective on intricate social phenomena.

In this context, the essential requirement is a creative interpretation of socio-cultural and political concepts from a designer’s viewpoint, reinforced by morphological knowledge. This approach is believed to establish a crucial link between social theory and design. To achieve this objective, considering the intricacies of heterotopology, there is a need for an explorative perspective demonstrating the new possibilities toward pluralist urbanism, as briefly illustrated in this concise paper. In this context, the journey toward competently understanding heterotopia through design is perceived as an ongoing process.

Fig. 6: One of the versions of the simulated morphology that would respond to some heterotopian (pluralist) characters (right) as opposed to the fragmentary nature of the existing planned fabric (left). (Source: Çalışkan and Barut, 2022)

Notes: For the elaboration of the concept of threshold from a micro-morphological perspective, please see: Şevik, E. & Çalışkan, O. (2022) Coexistence in Space: Stimulating Encounter in the Socially Fragmented Open Urban Fabrics, Built Environment 48(3), 364-392, https://doi.org/10.2148/benv.48.3.364.

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The model has received positive feedback from the professional media after the publication. See: ‘De computer helpt steeds beter bij het ontwerpen van de stad’, Jasper Monster, 16 Mei 2022; https://www.gebiedsontwikkeling.nu/artikelen/de-computer-helpt-steeds-beter-bij-het-ontwerpen-van-de-stad/?fbclid=IwAR174Y8ad7lo7SRfXHHn7LTZL6-HtopqtC5xTLWJlobOhoRlpUkuNJ4lLRM 2

References: 1. Alexander, C., H. Neis, A. Anninou, and I. King (1987), A New Theory of Urban Design, New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

2. Allport, G.W. (1954) The Nature of Prejudice, Cambridge, MA: Addison-Wesley Publication.

3. Appleyard, D. (1976) Planning a Pluralist City, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.

4. Burayidi, M.A. (2015) Cities and the Diversity Agenda in Planning, In Cities and the Politics of Difference: Multiculturalism and Diversity in Urban Planning, ed. M.A. Burayidi, 3–27.

Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

5. Çalışkan, O., Cihanger Ribeiro, D. and Tümtürk, O. (2020) Designing the Heterotopia: From Social Ideology to Spatial Morphology, Urban Design International 25, 30–52. https:// doi.org/10.1057/s41289-019-00101-w.

6. Çalışkan, O., Barut, Y.B. (2022) Pluralist Production of Urban Form: Towards A Parametric

Development Control for Unity in Diversity, Journal of Urban Design 27(5), 2022, 563-588, https://doi.org/10.1080/13574809.2022.205 0892.

7. DeLanda, M. (2006) A New Philosophy of Society: Assemblage Theory and Social Complexity, Bloomsbury: London. deVengoechea, M.R. (1969) Exercise in Urban Design: Santa Marta, Colombia, unpublished MSc thesis, Ithaca, the USA: Cornell University 8. Foucault, M. (1966 [1973]) The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences, New York: Vintage Books.

9. Foucault, M. 1967 [2008]. Of Other Spaces, L. De Cauter, M. Dehaene (trans.) In M. Dehaene, L. De Cauter (eds.) Heterotopia and the City: Public Space in a Postcivil Society, Routledge: London, pp. 13–29.

10. Harvey, D. (1990) The Condition of Postmodernity: An Inquiry into the Origins of Cultural Change, Cambridge MA and Oxford UK: Blackwell Publishers.

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F. Hertweck and S. Marot, The City in the City: Berlin, the Green Urban Archipelago, Zurich: Lars Muller, 81–130.

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Heterotopias of Stasis

An “As found” Investigation of La friche Josaphat, Brussels Tarini Vajpeyi

Prelude

The secret garden back home (New Delhi, India)

by Author

Two labyrinthian passages lead to a garden, Paths less travelled, Grasses less traversed.

Once a play zone, it is now forgotten.

Here is a list of all that is found : Walls, on all three sides.

A long wall of stone with barbed wire And two short walls of brick A banyan tree, An idol of Buddha, A small well, A hand pump, Thickets of bougainvillaea that engulf the barbed wire Wrought iron gates of backyards - rusted.

A single lamppost at the entrance of one of the passages Relics of flowers that once bloomed and swayed with the wind, Short mango trees planted at the edges of the grass, Steps that lead up to the well, Silence.

The cries of cicadas The occasional chirping of sparrows The smell of a hearty meal The sizzling of a pan from a distant backyard kitchen.

The slow and steady passage of time, only silence, And a pause.

Fig. 1: Counter-space imaginaries, La friche as an imagined desert in the city by Tarini Vajpeyi

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Fig. 2: The Secret garden

by Tarini Vajpeyi

Introduction Friche noun [ feminine ] / fʀiʃ / terrain qui n’est pas cultivé piece of fallow land A story about a friche (Schaerbeek, Brussels) Within the proliferating urban fabric of Brussels, there exists a derelict piece of land, a “friche” that is contested by humans in the midst of a pressing housing shortage. The friche once operated as a marshalling yard that saw the comings and goings of freight wagons but discontinued its operations in 1994. Owing to a lack of human appropriation and a lapse in policy making, this yard began to rewild itself, becoming a safe haven for non-human inhabitants.

Development authorities found themselves at odds with locals, ecologists and naturalists who advocated for the emergent landscape to be left to its own devices, eventually leaving the friche in a state of limbo and uncertainty.

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And thus, with this passage of time, a heterotopia was born. The friche is now a counter-space in the city, removed from the constructs of traditional time and space (Dehaene et al., 2008).

It is bordered by a thick shroud of trees and

cannot be accessed without permission. It is a terrain vague (Mariani et al., 2014). It has lived and therefore embodies several lives - that of a once terraneous landscape which turned to an earth filled marshalling yard, that of a marshalling yard that saw the comings and goings of trains, things and people, that of an inconspicuous home for the frequenting homeless and now, that of site with a contested future. Therefore, this is an invitation to imagine the future of such derelict, post-industrial landscapes.

“The derelict void in the city no longer waits to be colonised and put to use, but rather embraces its condition of stasis.“ In the burgeoning backdrop of urbanisation, nature and the emergent landscape thus becomes exalted and sublime - a heterotopic monument, just like a Persian Hayat or Garden of Eden. The city’s tapestry remains unwoven for a change.

Buildings cannot rush in to fill the vaccuum.

There are gaps, holes, pauses, halts, discontinuities. These are places of rest, counter sites of nothingness as opposed to the hyper-mediated continuity of the city (Andreotti et al., 2016).

The future of such Heterotopias is threatened - dwindling between the pressures of urban acquisition and their own, inherent qualities of “otherness” in the traditional functioning of a city.

Fig. 3: La friche in winter by Tarini Vajpeyi

Can architectural and urban strategies mediate between the two ends of this spectrum? Do such heterotopias reveal a potential to become sites of counter-brusselization and de-densification by focussing on the inherent need for pause and arrhythmia in the city? (Habitat Worldmap, 2019)

“The answers to the questions posed must begin with a delayering and unveiling of their virtues - what makes them heterotopias?

Which qualities do they embody?

Can these qualities become clues for an imagined (possibly built) future?”

This essay is a critical dissection of post industrial heterotopias through the specific case of the La friche Josaphat, located in the Schaerbeek municipality of Brussels. Drawing parallels to the secret garden, the essay maps the “as found” nature of the friche. It seeks to address ways of investigating such cases, their embodied values and what those may entail for their eventual development, making a case towards their place in the city and how they transcend the status quo of mindless construction on any and every plot of available land.

A combined lens of theoretical discourse and field observations will enable this critical reading, delving into three key themes and short discussions.

Fig. 4: As found mapping, hand drawn (by Nino Vogels, Prajwal Gaikwad & Tarini Vajpeyi)

Fig. 5: As found atlas - The juxtaposition of several places at once by Tarini Vajpeyi

2. Remnants of the marshalling yard

5. Railway tracks

4. Junk structure 7. Birdwatcher 1. Nouveaux Disparus travelling theatre group

3. Jardin Latinis

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6. Artificial pond

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1. The juxtaposition of several places at once

As Foucault elucidates, the city constitutes two kinds of spaces - spaces of banality, where regular life unfolds and spaces which are “other” or lay outside the realm of time-space regularity. What then happens in this counter space, which is removed from the daily rhythms of life?

What kind of a world does it constitute? Akin to the traditional Persian garden, which within its four walls was believed to bring together the four parts of the world, this heterotopia begets several worlds within its singular place. These worlds are indeed juxtaposed and layered upon one another - an assemblage of various elements which may or may not directly affect each other.

like the paradise gardens, possess a capacity to mediate and negotiate meanings and shapes of nature, culture, history and society (Girot et al., 2020). To imagine the future of the friche as this assemblage of myriad components, it would then be essential to approach an intervention as a kind of mediator and negotiator itself, which is not built upon a tabula rasa. The friche is therefore far from a clean slate to be built upon but rather requires a sensitised response to the “as found”, an attentiveness and passion for what exists and what clues it will reveal (Lichtenstein et al., 2001).

2. Borders and passages

In the friche, this theory comes to light in an interesting observation - The friche is not only a lateral juxtaposition of several places at once, but also a vertical one. Laterally, in its present condition, the friche contains at once - a travelling theatre company (The Nouveaux Disparus), a commoning group with its bee farm and kitchen gardens (Jardin Latinis), an artificially constructed pond which is now home to many species of dragonflies, the Evere train station, railways tracks which are now green corridors for migratory birds, remnants of the marshalling yard, patches of lush trees which become nesting habitats and acres of grassland. A patch of sand is found nestled within the tall grasses and a strange structure made of construction junk stands as some kind of marker to its immediate west. Despite a halt in its functioning, the friche reveals human as well as non-human occupation.

Context matters. Heterotopias gain virtue by relativity. The secret garden contrasts the otherwise public parks around my home. Similarly, these heterotopias gain a new meaning in the context of a city such as Brussels, as opposed to, say, the context of acres of post industrial ruin. Therefore, the ability of the heterotopia to retain its mystical and strange charm depends not merely on what happens within it, but also on what happens around and about it.The border of the heterotopia is like a cell membrane, allowing a certain degree of isolation and penetration. The borders are neither entirely open to the city, nor entirely closed, but demand a kind of purgatory action - perhaps, a shedding of the traditional time and regularity that comes with living in the city. Just as the Hammam and ablution tank of the mosque purify the body and soul before one is permitted to offer prayers, the heterotopia requires a rite of passage to the other side.

Vertically, this juxtaposition of several places is revealed in a palimpsest of its historical layering.

After the marshalling yard ceased to function, the earth was dug up to remove the polluted soil that had resulted from industrial activity, to be filled back with a new layer of soil followed by an additional layer of topsoil. Analysing historical mapping of the area reveals that certain fragments of the friche (triangle zone) were possibly excavated to larger depths (see Fig. 4) and filled back with a deeper layer of soil, leading to a varied kind of biodiversity in these patches. The soil that was refilled may have also brought with itself varieties of seeds that developed into unique flora. On the other hand, the fringes remained untouched, still constituting the old soil and original tree line from the marshalling yard. On closer analysis, it can be speculated that these several worlds are not entirely aloof from each other, but contribute to a complete imagery of the friche, which just

The friche, just as the paradise garden is enclosed within walls - a dense shroud of trees to the west and south, a bridge to the north and a border of industrial buildings to the east. The border is further accentuated by a subsequent drop in level, where the friche sits like a lowered basin amidst the rest of the neighbourhood, making its access even more difficult. Where access is easy, it is fenced off, allowing only certain kinds of people to enter - people belonging to the commons, naturalists, bird watchers and seldom, students. One must pass the border with an intention of care, traversing the friche with caution and silence. Upon my last visit to the friche at the break of dawn, I followed a bird watcher silently into the grassland, each step calculated, each move manoeuvred. “If we stay silent, we will be able to find them”, he said. The cacophony of the city has been left behind, and one must adhere to the new rules of this microcosm.

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In such a case, an intervention aimed at rescuing this heterotopia must become the filter between the city and the friche - a careful, selective border that prevents both, its complete isolation from the city where border vacuums are created and its complete dissolution into the city (Jacobs, 1992). The biodiversity that has flurished over the past two decades is the result of not only a careful degree of disconnection, but also a small degree of intervention (as commons) from the city. Any future architectural or urban scheme must facilitate this balance.

3. Time in events, rhythms and rituals

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The city’s fabric is continuous, ever-moving, dynamic - layer upon layer. Then there are these heterotopias as breaks in this continuity, where time holds a different meaning to one who ventures into them. These spaces become pauses and halts in the regular functioning of urban life, and within them is a certain strangeness and charm - of an unknown, unwitnessed and unventured world. In daily life, the friche is completely removed from traditional time for most people in Schaerbeek, yet it becomes a place that is ventured into from time to time by those who look for place away from the rituals of working, earning and living. A member of the commons will make an occasional visit to the vegetable gardens, or to host a set of students interested in learning about the biodiversity of the place, a birdwatcher seldom comes in the mornings, sometimes the theatre group hosts performances and sometimes the friche becomes a film set for a group of young film students.

It is interesting, however, to note that this arrhythmia of the friche holds true only for humans and the human-made city. On the contrary, the friche simultaneously facilitates an opportunity for the rhythmic life of non-human actors - berries and plants which grow and decay with changing seasons, soil that turns fallow, fertile and marshy over the year, migratory birds that mark the onset of winter, dragonflies of the pond which thrive during the rains and the blades of grass that oscillate between hues of green and yellow.

Therefore, this dichotomy of the friche and its inherent paradox of rhythmic and arrhythmic time is what must become a point of departure for an emergent intervention in its mutual respect and understanding of both domains - human and non-human. There is indeed, an immediate need for pause and stasis in the city, yet there is also a need for an unimpeded flow of non-human ecol-

ogy that will otherwise vanish in the burgeoning colonisation of urban space. The architecture of the post-industrial heterotopia must negotiate between the two, establishing that this condition of stasis is afterall, derived from the dynamic flows of non-human inhabitants. Without these flows, the post industrial heterotopia would be an absolute vacuum. It would never exist and impede future construction initiatives if nature had not taken over it.

Fig. 6: Heterotopias of the friche (Image by Author)

Conclusion - A manifesto

This essay ends in a manifesto and call for action - it is an urge to look at a new narrative of derelict plot development, shifting the focus from looking at sites as always preparing for top-down human appropriation schemes to a more sensitised framework of intervention. The need for development cannot be disregarded. However, the kind of solution that is born out of this need can become a driving force in maintaining an equilibrium between ecology and human need.

With a keen eye for the “ as found” , a careful approach towards mediating between the city and the counter space, and finally, a symbiotic means of building - where human and non-human actors benefit in synergy, the heterotopia of the friche can still prevail. Lastly - as architects, planners and urbanists, it becomes crucial to understand the role of the heterotopia in the city. In the saturated cityscape, these are portals to a place of pause, rest and magic. They are sacred and ephemeral, purging the frenzy of a hyperactive urban culture. As future visionaries of cities, we must look towards these inherent qualities as opportunities, rather than hindrances in development and planning. The heterotopia must not disappear with new interventions, but can rather be enhanced and valued as a moment of stasis in the city.

References: 1. Dehaene, M., & De Cauter, L. (Eds.).

(2008). Heterotopia and the City: Public Space in a Postcivil Society. Taylor & Francis.

5. Foucault, M., & Miskowiec, J. (1986).

Of other spaces. Diacritics, 16(1), 22. https://doi.org/10.2307/464648

2. Mariani, M., & Barron, P. (Eds.). (2014).

Terrain Vague: Interstices at the Edge of the Pale. Routledge.

6. Girot, C., Fahmi, F., & Uzor, M. (Eds.).

(2020). Lost in Paradise: A Journey Through the Persian Landscape. gta Verlag.

3. Andreotti, L., & Lahiji, N. (2016). The Architecture of Phantasmagoria: Spectres of the City. Taylor & Francis.

7. Lichtenstein, C., & Schregenberger, T. (Eds.). (2001). As Found: The Discovery of the Ordinary. Prestel Publishing.

4. (Brusselization - Habitat Worldmap.

(2019, September 5). Habitat Worldmap.

Retrieved December 17, 2023, from https://habitat-worldmap.org/en/keywords/brusselisation)

8. Jacobs, J. (1992). The Curse of Border Vacuums. In The Death and Life of Great American Cities (pp. 257-269). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group

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A Place for Water Ashish Dalal

The water systems of present-day India can be considered heterotopias. The psychological aspect of water in the Indian context can be attributed to its value in various religious cultures. The idea is that water should be treated with a sense of respect and care as it has the potential to sustain lives. The major rivers that run through India are considered sacred and they are often venerated.

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The way the water storage/harvesting systems were constructed reflected this idea. These values were built on the underlying idea of purity and sanctity that water is associated with. They were constructed to optimize water storage and distribution for a settlement which invariably altered its fabric and directed future construction and expansion. They were recognizable structures that took up space while ensuring access to the structure, making it permeable. Some of these stepwells had shrines and temples built into them - drawing from the complex conception of water in Indian cultural and philosophical thought. The structure fulfilled a dayto-day need, while simultaneously serving as spaces for socialization. They were also imagined to the scale of infinity, meaning they could be built upon and expanded as the settlement grew, and also to support any scale of the base population.

Today, while most households are served with tap water, such indigenous water systems are in a state of ruin and used as garbage dumps. Considering the world’s water crisis, these traditional systems could help today and should be protected even though they might not serve the purpose at present.

Fig. 1: A Place for Water by Ashish Dalal

City of Cloth Forms of Occupation of the Seashore Sérgio Barreiros Proença Cristiana Valente Monteiro Francesca Dal Cin

Humans have always altered the natural environment, shaping and transforming inhospitable territory into a friendly landscape. This is also the case of the occupation of the space between the city and the sea, which over time has been reshaped to the needs and cultural practices of the inhabitants of the place. We consider that the forms of occupation of this intertidal space are based on principles and metrics of spatial appropriation, that overlap in space over time. According to Michel Foucault (1966), these places can be called non-eternal heterotopias, which relate to each other and transcend their existence, in continuity and adaptation.

Interpretative drawing is used to decode the atemporal anthropized grids, lines and matrices that organise the forms of occupation of the thickness between the city and the sea. This instrumental use of drawing allows to reveal rules and relations among ephemeral forms of occupation: from fishing-related elements (such as moored boats or fish for auction) to summer recreational activities support elements (composed of wooden or wood and cloth structures that cyclically occupy the low, sandy coast).

This article explores the different elements that constitute the variable thickness of the intertidal space along the Portuguese coast addressing the case study of Sesimbra. Delayering renders it possible to identify the different elements that compose the ephemeral forms of occupation and the composition rules of the variable thickness between the city and the sea. The morphological understanding of spatial dynamics reveals forms of appropriation that repeat in a cyclical and overlapped recomposition of the landscape.

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Fig. 1 (left): Portuguese beach Heterotopia samples: I. Arquivo Municipal de Lisboa, PT/AMLSB/ART/002972, Artur Pastor, 1954-57; II. PT/AMLSB/ ART/002936, Artur Pastor;III.PT/ AMLSB/ART/032533, Artur Pastor, n/d IV.Arquivo Municipal de Lisboa, PT/ AMLSB/ART/011149, Artur Pastor, 1955-70; V. Sérgio Proença, 2022; VI. Arquivo Municipal de Sesimbra, PT/CMS/ EICAR/M/DG0003, Idaleciano Cabecinha and Américo Ribeiro,1930-40; VII. Arquivo Municipal de Sesimbra, n/d; VIII. Arquivo Municipal de Lisboa, PT/ AMLSB/ART001353, Artur Pastor, 194360;; IX.Arquivo Municipal de Lisboa, PT/AMLSB/ART/031203, Artur Pastor, n/d; X, XI, XII, Arquivo Fotográfico da Junta da Freguesia de Quarteira.

“City of cloth” explores the compositional principles of the ephemeral forms of occupation of the intertidal space through a diachronic reading of the forms that cyclically occupy and shape the space between the sea and the city.

The thickness between the city and the sea is a place that accommodates various forms of occupation - ephemeral and fixed along the time. According to Michel Focault (1966), places that have the capacity to accumulate different times and characteristics and eternalize them are considered “chronic heterotopias”, or “heterochronies”. The intertidal space is a temporal heterotopia, since it is composed of different layers of occupation in time that are recurrently assembled, disassembled and reassembled.

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The diachronic interpretative reading is supported by diagrams drafted from historical archival photographs, which allow us to understand the evolution of occupation patterns made by different elements in the case study of Sesimbra beach, Praia do Ouro, in Portugal. The recomposition through drawing of the coastal occupation cartographies allows a comparison to be made between the different temporal moments, and to decode compositional acts of lines and matrices that determine an order of occupation in the thickness between the city and the sea. In the space between the city, the urban landscape, and the body of water, the sea, there is a thickness in which different types of human occupation have occurred over time. This thickness can be described as a diaphragm, characterised by the feature of expanding and retracting: cyclically and daily due to the tides; occasionally during extreme weather events; slowly in time following the introduction of infrastructure such as jetties or the expansion of the city.

The transitory and cyclical ways of occupying the intertidal space with essential elements reveal that each one has a specific idiorrhythmic.

Nevertheless, all share topological principles (Tuñon, 2015) of organising the space from the order that exists in the coastal landscape.

Furthermore, acknowledging similar occupations (be it related to fishing or to recreation) along the Portuguese coast, allows us to infer the existence of typological series both in the elements and the forms of occupation.

In heterotopic times In contemporary times, the effects of rising sea levels make cities’ waterfronts vulnerable and, consequently, question the established models and practices of the discipline of architecture and urbanism regarding these areas. It is therefore at this point of crisis or transformation that it becomes imperative to rethink the paradigms of urban form and its relation with the territory.

However, it is necessary to notice that the space that today appears to form the horizon of our concerns, our theory, our systems, is not an innovation and the questions we have to address are not new; space itself has a history in Western experience, and it is not possible to disregard the fatal intersection of time with space (Foucault,1984). In fact, coastal settlements always had to cope with changing tidal levels or extreme weather events. Reading the past ephemeral forms of occupation of the intertidal space may consist in references for the discussion on future forms of relation with the sea.

For Foucault, utopias and heterotopias become instruments of spatial description through which space can be understood; even though the space described by utopia is unreal (insofar as it entertains a relationship of analogy with real space); and that of heterotopia localisable and at the same time, outside of any place.

In this sense, it appears as a tool for describing sites with an essentially relational character,

“Heterotopia also occupies a peripheral position and is, at the same time, part of a complex network of connections with the spaces it reflects or refers to.”

(Peter Johnson, 2006) places marked by similarities and dissimilarities, which qualify them not as other spaces, governed by a relationship of opposition, but as ‘different’ spaces (Johnson, 2006). In addition, for David Harvey in “Social Justice and the City”, relational spaces are the ones that contain and “represent within themselves relations with other objects” (Harvey, 1973).

Forms of occupation of the intertidal space: reading lines and grids in the sand The variable thickness of the intertidal space along the Portuguese coast accommodates and has accommodated over time various forms of occupation, fixed and ephemeral. The identification of a variable thickness in the intertidal space along the Portuguese coast and its recurrent occupation by ephemeral elements allow for an interpretative diachronic reading of the forms of occupation that cyclically have supported specific uses on the beach sand. (Figure 2.)

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The elaboration of interpretative reading diagrams of the distinct forms of the human occupation of the sand is achieved by the recomposition of the distinct moments that were captured in still images during the 20th century. A selection of archival photographs constitutes the initial corpus of study of this heterotopia of time of the intertidal space and a base from which new cartographies are drafted.

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Mario Gandelsonas (1991) states that drawing is a process that allows us to see formal configurations that are not perceived in reality and therefore affects how we see the city. Moreover, representation is a tool, a simulacrum that builds an interpreted and abstract image of reality in its intrinsic structure (Purini, 2000).

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1- póvoa de varzim

1 - póvoa de varzim2- nazaré 2 - nazaré 3 - sesimbra 3 - sesimbra 4 - lagos 4 - lagos 5 - quarteira 5 - quarvteira Fig. 2: Portuguese beach Heterotopias along the coast.

In very much the same way, these recomposed cartographies consider essential layers of the intertidal space occupation, namely the elements that compose it, and are drawn at the same scale and with the same criteria, allowing for the comparative and simultaneous reading of different moments, revealing and rendering evident the occupations on each moment. Furthermore, each cartography allows the extraction of a diagram of the composition lines or grids that regulate the disposition of the elements in the occupation of the sand.

The decomposition and recomposition of a selection of layers of the landscape, finally achieving the composition diagram of the occupation of the sand, renders it possible to identify the forms of occupation as well as the rules of composition that regulate the occupation of the variable thickness between the city and the sea.

Small fishing boats, fish and beach awnings are elements that frequently appear as central motifs or part of the framing landscape that is depicted in historical photographs of the Sesimbra beach as well as of other urban beaches along the

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Portuguese coastline since the late 19th century.

These are ephemeral elements that conform transitory although recurrent occupations and redefine the beach space in different moments.

Regarding the case study, the presence of beach awnings dedicated to tourism started in 1860 and both the fish auction and the presence of moored fishing boats were transferred for the new harbour in the 1970’s. Furthermore, the realisation of the fish auction on the sand was dependent on the moment and height of the tide as well as the mooring of boats was dependent on the tidal cycle; while the season cycle defined

Fig. 3: Plan of territorial framework.

ericeira

tejo river lisboa

atlantic ocean

sesimbra

the presence or absence of beach awnings, only useful during the summer months. Therefore, their existence in space is dependent not only on the linear time period but also on cyclical time. This acknowledged cyclicality generates both an alternace and an overlap of realities, a time heterotopia on the beach. Describing the forms of occupation of the elements from the ones that have occupied the intertidal space earlier to the more recent ones, we address the fish boats, the fish, and the beach awnings from what we may consider samples of ephemeral proto-cities (Figure 3).

The City of Boats Along the Portuguese coast, fishing boats are specific to each part of the coastline and have specific formal characteristics that respond to the type of fishing, the sea characteristics they commonly face and the way they are moored ashore (Lopes, 1975). The different sizes and configurations of wooden fishing boats that are found in the historical photographs mainly correspond to sets composed of different boats.

A company had one or more main, longer and wider boats, usually ranging from 7 to 9 metres long, that could carry or trolley and act as the mothership of smaller fishing boats, around 3,90 metres long, that could be managed by one to four fishermen each.

The disposition of the fishing boats in the sand materialises a series of lines generically perpendicular to the coastline. The distance between these axes is variable, depending on the size of the boats, configuring a rule that is both dependent on the dimension of the elements themselves and the perpendicular direction regarding the coastline. (Figure 4.)

The City of Fish From historical photographs it is possible to observe that different species of fish were placed in the sand in specific forms of organisation.

Both the morphological characteristics of the fish and its market value contributed to these consequently distinct forms of occupation. The chosen sample reconstitutes the captured moment of the fish auction of a catch of silver scabbardfish. This specific type of fish is narrow, with an average length of 1,20 metres.

The daily realisation of the fish auction in the sand, until the 1970’s, was dependent on the possibility of occupation of the beach intertidal space left free during the low tide, which happens every twelve hours, and the sea conditions, otherwise the auction would take place in the public ground of the nearby exceptional urban space of Largo da Marinha. Each fish lot has a defined number of fish, in the case of silver scabbardfish, a lot is composed of 30 fish, placed perpendicular to the coastline, similar to the fishing boats, separated by intervals of about 20 centimetres with the exception of the ending elements which are disposed diagonally over the others to mark the end of the lot. From the recomposition in plan it is possible to infer

a matrix of composition defined by rows of fish and passages parallel to the coastline. Each passageway is about 70 centimetres wide, allowing fishermen and buyers to circulate and observe the fish. (Figure 5.)

The City of Awnings Beach awnings have been a constant presence on the Sesimbra beach during the summer season since 1860. Typologically these elements may be a simple canvas awning or a small houseshaped structure covered in cloth. The first is a simple rectangular canvas stretched longitudinally with two wood beams on the shorter ends which are tied to two vertical logs; the tilting of the canvas is regulated by the strings that tie the edge of the beams to the vertical logs. The second consists of an almost cubical space with a conical roof, the structure is made of wood beams and is covered in a canvas cloth, with the front face opening upwards defining an extra shadow-casting surface.

Annually, during the summer season, these elements define a temporary occupation of the beach space that are clearly ordered and hierarchised. The vertical logs, pillars, of the awnings are an evenly distributed grid along lines that are parallel and perpendicular to the slope of the beach The upper strip is reserved for the placement of the cloth huts facing south towards the sea. Between the cloth huts and the awnings a linear space, a street, is defined; the awnings’ placement is interrupted to give way to a wide space between the city and the sea which allows for people and boats to circulate.

The grid dimensioning is defined by the dimension of the elements that compose it and its orientation is defined by the beach direction (Figure 6.).

Pierre Pinon (1972) has stated that in all its creations, humans search for a geometry, developing an ideal grid, and the will of regularity faces the context of the place in which it is designed and its internal contradictions. We could argue that there is always a search for an equilibrium between typological elements of composition that enable a rhythmic repetition and creation of geometrical order while rationally answering a specific need. The place conditions, always present in any given landscape as a topological order of landscape that architecture can acknowledge (Tuñon, 2015).

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Fig. 4: Form of occupation, fishing boats, Sesimbra: I. historical photography, Artur Pastor; II. Fishing boats sample plan; III. Diagram of the occupation matrix.

Fig. 5: Form of occupation, fish auction, Sesimbra: I. historical photography, Artur Pastor; II. Fish auction sample plan; III. Diagram of the occupation matrix.

Fig. 6: Form of occupation, beach awnings, Sesimbra: I. historical photography, Artur Pastor; II. Beach awnings sample plan; III. Diagram of the occupation matrix.

The temporality of the elements that compose each form of occupation of the beach has an rhythmy, a specific rhythm that is dependent on its form, on the role it plays and the activities it supports. Nevertheless, the overall composition is formally ordered or regulated by the place characteristics such as the direction of the margin, slope orientation, solar exposition and prevailing winds, thus conferring a topological character to the different forms of occupation of the intertidal landscape.

From the historical photographs of other points along the Portuguese coast, it is possible to infer that the principles and metrics that were decoded for the case of Sesimbra may constitute one of many manifestations of these overlapping forms of occupation of the intertidal beach space in time. Furthermore, this fact suggests the capacity of the principles of occupation to migrate to other similar geographical contexts, emphasising their transcendence in space and time. (Figure 1.)

Along the Portuguese coast, namely at Sesimbra beach, we consider that a heterotopia can be found in a place where different elements, that are incompatible in themselves, have found a way to overlap in space and alternate in time; and it is in the attempt to find new forms of coexistence, which dialog with the place despite constant transformations throughout time, that we find the city of cloth.

Acknowledgements: The article is inscribed in the research project “MAR - As Marginais Atlânticas Portuguesas. Leitura interpretativa e Projecto em contexto de Alterações Climáticas. / The Portuguese Atlantic Seashore Streets. Interpretative reading and Design in Climate Change context”, and the embryo project “[ENTRA]MAR. Sea intertwined city. Interpretation and Design of Portuguese Seashore Streets vulnerable to sea level rise” coordinated

by Sérgio Barreiros Proença, funded

by FCT exploratory projects through CIAUD - Research Center in Architecture, Urbanism and Design at the Lisbon School of Architecture, Universidade de Lisboa.

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8. Pinon, P. (1972). Relation entre formes d’occupation du sol. L’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui, 164: L’homme et le territoire.

Technic Union. 4-11.

9. Proença, S.B. (2018). Reading and interpreting Portuguese Atlantic seashore streets in sea level rise context.

Transitional Streets. Narrating Stories of Convivial Streets. NDU-FAAD. 10. Proença, S.B., Monteiro, C.V., Dal Cin, F. (2021). Lição de utopia: a cidade entre a terra e o mar. Atlântida. Revista de Cultura. LXVI. 51-58.

11. Tuñon, E. (2015). Por uma Arquitectura Relacional. Carrilho da Graça: Lisboa.

Dafne Editora. 83-85. Viganò P. (1999). La città elementare. SKIRA.

Author Biographies Gregory Bracken was born in Dublin, Ireland in 1968 and educated at Killashee and Newbridge College. He completed his B.Sc.Arch and Dip.Arch at the Dublin Institute of Technology (graduating with Distinction in Thesis) in 1992. He then worked as an architect in Berlin, Bangkok and Singapore before pursuing an M.Sc.Arch at TU Delft. He received his Ph.D. in Architecture Theory from TU Delft in 2009.

He then worked in the Theory Section of the Architecture Department, where he co-founded the architecture theory journal Footprint, before moving to the Spatial Planning and Strategy section of the Urbanism Department in 2016, where he since conducts research, mentors masters’ and post-masters’ students, supervises PhD candidates and runs a number of Theory of Urbanism courses.

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Loic Vendrame was born in 1989. His academic career as a geographer and urban planner is the cornerstone of his current photographic work. Fascinated by the study of the anthropization of landscapes and the complex dynamics between Man and the territory he shapes, photographic practice allowed him to bring a visual and emotional dimension to these geographical reflections. Through the projects he develops, I strive to document territories that are exposed to contemporary changes in order to reveal their underlying stories.

Elena Mataix Caballero was born in 2001 in Madrid, Spain. She is a Graduate of Political Philosophy and Critical Theory at Erasmus University. When the exercise of doing has been entangled in politics of not asking, not questioning, not saying, not declaring, not sharing - She finds comfort in coming across the shades and ruptures of these regimes.

Shades that allow for collaboration, inquiry and practice. Ruptures found in settings that seek to disentangle from conventional academic frameworks and ways of asking. Through encounters, conversations and writings, She is looking for ways to find thrusters that set forth that which is fought to be intangible.

Carlota Garcia, Lotraca (she/they) is a feminist and queer artist, witch and activist born in Portugal and based in the Netherlands. lotraca has an interest in communal and spiritual practices, and their intersections with activism. @lotraca |www.lotraca.com

Nima Tabrizi is an urbanist and designer based in the Netherlands. He holds a MAS degree in Urban and Territorial Design from ETH Zurich (2022), whose research interests include urban justice and socio-ecological urban regeneration. Following years of instructing in architectural academies, he now works as an educator at the intersection of art and urban studies. As a critical writer and editor, he also worked with a number of Iranian websites and journals covering architecture and urban design.

Shahzeb Khan (he/him) is an architect currently pursuing MSc. Architecture studies in Ankara, Turkey. His research explores the spatial dimensions of institutional planning and power structures, with a specific focus on informality, representation practices, and the material politics of architecture. With substantial experience in practice, research, and teaching, his work strongly advocates for spatial justice and critical urbanism.

Hammad Ahsan (he/him) is an architect based in New York. Alongside the architectural practice, his work involves critical inquiry into the uncanny relationship among space and people in the everyday urban conditions.

With a background in Journalism, Social Policy, and performative design, Hammad maintains a keen insight into contemporary urban and policy discourse.

Marina Kostaki & Smyrnaiou Efi are two young architects from Athens. They hold a Master degree in Architecture from the Technical University of Crete and are currently working as Juniors architects in architectural offices in Athens. They had worked together in their Research thesis and Diploma that focused on the concept of intermediate space at the urban and architectural scale. Deeply interested in urban design and the architectural impact on the urban landscape, they have taken part in research programs and workshops relating to participatory planning and urban design, and are always willing to explore new fields in theoretical and practical ideas and concepts.

Inês Francisca Oliveira (1997) began her academic career in Architecture at the School of Architecture, Art and Design of the University of Minho, having been awarded the Excel-

lence Prize from the same institution twice.

In 2023 she completed her postgraduate degree in “Environment, Sustainability and Education” at the University of Évora. Through the ERASMUS program, she attended the Master Architecture & Experience at the École d’architecture de la ville & des territoires Paris-Est. Throughout her path, she developed an interest in the themes of womanhood, landscape and heritage, having participated in summer schools with the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven (Belgium) and directing her research “Percursos de Inês de Jesus: places-of-knowledge in the landscape” to these themes.

Christian Haid is the co-founder of POLIGONAL and senior researcher at Habitat Unit, Chair of International Urbanism at the Technical University Berlin. He received his PhD in Urban Sociology from Humboldt University Berlin after studying Urban Studies (UCL London) and Architecture (Academy of Fine Arts Vienna). In his practice he develops communication formats at the intersections of urban practice, art and architecture. As a curator, teacher and researcher he is interested in queer urbanism, urban informality, and postcolonial critique.

Lukas Staudinger is an architect and curator of urban practice. He is co-founder of POLIGONAL and professor of Architecture and Urban Design at Berlin International University of Applied Sciences. He studied architecture (Academy of Fine Arts Vienna and Berlin University of the Arts) and urban sociology (Goldsmiths, University of London). In his work he specializes in historical and contemporary urban planning, art in public space, and queer urban everyday life.

Malgorzata Rybak is currently a Master’s student in Urbanism at Delft University of Technology. She graduated from Wroclaw University of Technology with a Bachelor’s degree in Architecture and spent a year as an exchange student at the Politecnico di Milano. She is interested in informal structures in the city, socio-political problems related to planning and participation. As an urbanist, she feels it is important to be active in society, she worked for 3 years as a cultural reporter for Academic Radio Luz, co-organised architecture workshops ‘OSSA Disappearance 2022’ and co-created the project ‘Land van Chabot’ in Rotterdam.

Algirdas Ramonas is an architect and urbanist interested in experimental research of spatial culture, analysis of environmental influence towards everyday life, and how planning can affect humankind towards a more inclusive, accepting, and tolerant society.He believes that both local and international experience are vital for contemporary built environment specialists. Therefore, during his Bachelor’s studies in architecture in his hometown Kaunas (LT), where he graduated in 2018, he also studied at Brno (CZ) and Barcelona (ES).

After working as an architect assistant in Lithuania, in 2019 he moved to Belgium to work in an international architecture and urban design office. His story today finishes with graduation from Master studies in TU Delft in 2023 with Cum Laude and BK-Archiprix nomination.

Vera Vince is currently finishing her Master studies in Urbanism at Delft University of Technology. She graduated from The University of Zagreb with a Bachelor’s degree in Art History and Sociology, and gained a Bachelor’s degree in Architectural Design from Politecnico di Milano. Having worked at the intersection of building and social sciences, her interests lie in examining underlying processes behind spatial transformations.

Feike Smithuis is an MSc Urbanism graduate student at TU Delft. His journey started with aesthetics in architecture, but his interests shifted to the social, environmental, and theoretical underpinnings of human landscapes.

His mission is to enhance accessibility in architecture and urbanism through clear communication.

Léopold Lambert is the editor-in-chief of The Funambulist. He is a trained architect, as well as the author of four books that examine the inherent violence of architecture on bodies, and its political instrumentalization at various scales and in various geographical contexts.

He is the author of Weaponized Architecture: The Impossibility of Innocence (dpr-barcelona, 2012), Topie Impitoyable: The Corporeal Politics of the Cloth, the Wall, and the Street (punctum, 2016) and La politique du Bulldozer: La ruine palestinienne comme projet israélien (B2, 2016). His new book is called States of Emergency: A Spatial History of the French Colonial Continuum (Premiers Matins de Novembre, 2021).

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Olgu Çaliskan completed his doctoral degree on urbanism at TU Delft, the Netherlands in 201. Since then he has been lecturing at METU Faculty of Architecture, Department of City and Regional Planning as an assistant professor. His publications involve the guest editorial for the journal of Built Environment (2011, 2022) and several articles, including those in the Journal of Urban Design (2010, 2022), Journal of Architectural and Planning Research (2011), Urban Design International (2012, 2020) and Urban Morphology (2017).

His main research interests are physical planning and design, urban morphology, urban design theory and methodology, and visualization in urbanism. Instructed as Master of Urban Design Studio at METU, he teaches ‘Creative Thinking for Planners’, ‘Parametric Urban Design’ and ‘Collective Housing Planning and Design’ courses. In the body of TEPAV (The Economic Research Foundation of Turkey), he consulted for the strategic vision project for Gaza urban strip, which was proposed to both the Israeli and Palestinian authorities in January 2016. Since his return to Turkey in 2014, he has been a jury member in a series of national and international design competitions. Within different design teams, he has had award-winning projects within recent national and international competitions, including Konyaaltı Waterfront (2015), Antalya and Taksim, İstanbul (2020).

Tarini Vajpeyi is an architect from New Delhi, India. She completed her Bachelor’s in Architecture in 2019 and subsequently entered professional practice. She has worked on a variety of typological and research oriented projects - both on an architectural as well as an urban scale. Her interest towards developing and exploring new research methods that intersect between architecture as a profession and architecture as theoretical and philosophical discourse led her to transition to academia. She is currently pursuing her MSc in Architecture from TU Delft and working towards the completion of her graduation project titled “The bathhouse of enchantments and other tales of Heterotopia”. The project is an ongoing amalgamation of her keen passion for storytelling as a means of integrating socio-cultural and ecological values into the built environment and the possible futures of post industrial, rewilded plots of land in cities today.

Ashish Dalal has been an architect since 2017. He is the founder and principal architect of a Pune-based architectural practice called ‘theRed design workshop’ in Pune, India that works on projects of various types and scales.

Ashish is a recent graduate of MA in City Design from the Royal College of Art, London.

Sérgio Barreiros Proença has been an Architect since 2001. He completed his MSc in Modern and Contemporary Architectural Culture in 2007 and received a PhD in Urbanism in 2014 with the thesis “The Diversity of the Street in the City of Lisbon: Morphology and Morphogenesis” in the Faculty of Architecture, University of Lisbon (ULisboa). He is now an assistant professor at the Lisbon School of Architecture in ULisboa, teaching Design Studio classes on the Integrated Master in Architecture and the Thesis I - Intermediate Seminar on the PhD in Urbanism. He is also a researcher of CIAUD and a founding member of formaurbis LAB, and currently coordinating the ongoing research on the Portuguese Atlantic Seashore Streets. He mainly focuses on interpretative reading and design in the climate change context.

Cristina Valente Monteiro is an Architect with a Master’s in Architecture and Urbanism from the Lisbon School of Architecture, ULisboa, with the final master’s project entitled “Between Sea and Land: Monuments for an Uncertain Future”. At present, she is a PhD candidate in Urbanism at the Faculty of Architecture, ULisboa. Since 2021, she has participated in conferences and published articles for journals and magazines in the areas of architecture, urbanism, and design.

Francesca Dal Cin has been an assistant professor at Alasala College of Architecture and Design. She graduated in Architectural Science with an Urban Planning specialisation from the Architecture University of Venice in 2017. She then finished her PhD in Urbanism, in 2022, at the Faculty of Architecture ULisboa with the thesis “Streets by the Sea: Type, Limit, and Elements”, supported since 2018 by a research fellowship from the university. Since 2017, she has been a member of the CIAUD research centre of ULisboa. In 2022 and 2023, she was a part of the GeRTIL2 research team (CIAUD), and worked on the development of five spatial plans for East Timor as an Urban Planner.

ATLANTIS

Explorative magazine on urbanism and landscape architecture Faculty of Architecture, TU Delft Volume 34, Issue 2, February 2024.

Editors-in-Chief

Greta Samulionyte & Vera Vince

Editorial Team

Anmol Bhargava, Feike Smithuis, Frithasya Jeniardina Purba, Gillian Weber, Gosia Rybak, Johanna Zehntner, Melanie Mary Marshal, Wiebke Stadtlander and Ziyun Zhou

Cover Design

Gosia Rybak, Anmol Bhargava and Johanna Zehntner

Printer

Printerpro.nl

Editorial Contacts

Polis, Platform for Urbanism Julianalaan 134, 2628 BL Delft Office: 01 West 350 TEL: +31 (0)15-2784093 WEB: www.polistudelft.nl/atlantis INSTAGRAM: @atlantis.magazine E-MAIL: atlantismagazinetudelft@gmail.com This issue has been made with care; authors and redaction hold no liability for incorrect/incomplete information. All images are the property of their respective owners. We have tried as hard as we can to honour their copyrights.

The views and opinions expressed in this magazine are those of their respective authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the Editorial team of Atlantis Magazine or Polis.

ISSN 1387-3679

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Atlantis Heterotopia Editorial Team

From the Board The yearly topic, -topias, was chosen as a platform for discussing themes which encourage critical thinking in addressing the multiple global crises we are currently facing. It’s a testament to the board’s commitment to fostering engagement and raising awareness about the complexities of our world. This issue comes out during the unfolding conflict between Hamas and Israel on the Gaza territory. The board would like to extend their condolences to everyone affected and support calls for ceasefire and respecting the human rights of Palestinian people.

POLIS Board 2023-24 CHAIRPERSON

Anmol Bhargava

SECRETARY

Claudia Engel

TREASURY

Merel Garritsen

PR

Johanna Zehtner

EDUCATION

Kirthan Shekar

ATLANTIS

Greta Samulionyte & Vera Vince

ENCOUNTERS

Divya Agarwal

U&L WEEK

Harini Sivakumar

BIG TRIP

Kim Schneider

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Join the Team We are always looking for enthusiastic people to join.

Interested in one of the POLIS committees? Do not hesitate to find us at our POLIS office (01.west.350) or by email at: polisdelft@gmail.com.

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