Digital Performative Mapping

DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING For Society, Research, and Education

Naomi BUENO DE MESQUITA

LEGEND

With the digitisation of maps, a shift in cartographic practice has been initiated that challenges cartographers’ role (or exclusive power) in how maps come into being. The

Domains

public appropriation of digital tools and digital mapping technologies have led to a

Society Research

development in which citizens (and not only formally trained cartographers) now actively participate in the practice of mapping, in turn multiplying the number of maps that are being

Education

contested.

This

cartographic

turn

—conceptualised in this PhD as the performative turn in cartography— has created an opportunity of engaging people in public (space) issues in novel ways, leading to

Affordances

potentially more inclusive decision making processes. Consequently, mapping technologies are increasingly being adopted as a means

Co-creating

to seek public participation within urban planning or as a means to empower citizens in

Inter-facing

public (space) issues in other domains.

Playing

The implications that digital map interfaces have in conceptualising public space and the

Performing

public domain as a physical-virtual hybrid is examined and presented. Situated at the crossing of critical cartography and design research, the PhD examines in what ways Digital Performative Mapping can afford participation in public (space) issues and what

Attributes

kind of knowledge embodied interaction with the map produces.

Legend Through presenting eight case studies, the

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+

Time Frame

doctoral research explores and defines the affordances of Digital Performative Mapping for three different domains: society, research, and education. Map apps are presented as a novel method of knowledge acquisition and

Navigation

knowledge transfer, with which both an analytical framework as well as an interpretive reflection on the case studies encompass the research methodology.

KU Leuven /LUCA School of Arts

DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING For Society, Research, and Education

Naomi BUENO DE MESQUITA

Supervisors: Dr. V. Van der Sluys Dr. D. Hamers Dr. ir. B. Cattoor

December 2021

Dissertation submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Arts)

Colophon Thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Arts) at KU Leuven, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences, Associated Faculty of the Arts.

Proofreading: Mercedes Coll Mallart Graphic Design: Toni Quesada Corcoll Maps: Naomi Bueno de Mesquita & Toni Quesada Corcoll Overlay frames: Naomi Bueno de Mesquita

© Naomi Bueno de Mesquita

From 2014 until 2017 this PhD was funded by the TRADERS program. TRADERS was a Marie-Curie Action-Multi-Partner ITN (Initial Training Network) research project that was funded by the European Union within FP7, the Seventh Framework Programme of the European Community for research, technological development and demonstration under grant agreement no. 608299.

Abstract Being a two-dimensional representation, a map is by default an abstract model of space. Decisions that concern the translation of space and its social phenomena into two-dimensions have a direct impact ‘on the ground’, while decisions regarding scale, legend, and frame determine what reality is portrayed, with which other realities are inevitably obscured. Cartography is thus an inherently political project (Crampton, 2004) and decisions that are embedded in this project are, by default, made by cartographers (or their commissioners).

Through the digitisation of maps, a shift in cartographic practice has been initiated that challenges cartographers’ role (or exclusive power) in how maps come into being. With the public appropriation of digital tools and digital mapping technologies, not only formally trained cartographers, but also citizens actively participate in the practice of mapping. This shift towards mass availability, networked connectivity, and interactivity has led to a rise in the number of people who participate in mapping, consequently multiplying the number of maps that are now being contested.

This cartographic turn —conceptualised in this dissertation as the performative turn in cartography— has created an opportunity to engage people in public (space) issues in novel ways, leading to potentially more inclusive decision-making processes. Consequently, mapping technologies are increasingly being adopted as a means to seek public participation within urban planning or as a means to empower citizens in public (space) issues in other domains.

This PhD presents and examines the implications that digital mapping interfaces have conceptualising public space and the public domain as a physical-virtual hybrid. For example, the implications that a dependency on navigational systems have on our ability to experience where we are, and the degree to which we experience chance encounters raises questions about when and how the public domain comes into being, whose activities are included or excluded, and who is enabled to have a say in it.

The PhD is situated at the crossing of critical cartography and design research. While the mobile and performative turn in cartography has been presented extensively in literature on critical cartography, no accounts were found of the map app as digital spatial medium to re-examine spatial theories through embodied interaction. The mobility paradigm in digital map use and the continuous altering between the physical and the virtual that map apps afford —being ‘here’ and ‘there’ at the same time— has led to the following main research questions: In what ways can Digital Performative Mapping afford participation in public (space) issues

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and what kind of knowledge does embodied interaction with the map produce? Through presenting eight case studies and using a Research through Design approach, this bigger question is examined in three subordinate research questions: RQ1) Which characteristics of map apps have the potential to engage citizens in public (space) issues?

RQ2) Which potentials and/or uses of map apps can be applied as design driven ethnographic research?

RQ3) What kind of learning experiences does Digital Performative Mapping generate?

Each case study includes one or more self-designed map app(s) and seeks to make a contribution to one of the following fields/ domains: society (RQ1), research (RQ2), education (RQ3).

In serving society, the PhD positions Digital Performative Mapping as formative for participation in public (space) issues. In serving research, the PhD makes a methodological contribution —the examination of the affordances of map apps as a means to participatory ethnographic design research. In serving education, the PhD examines the potentials of map apps as a form of collective learning through embodied interaction with the map and with others via the map.

To enable a relevant comparison between the cases, the PhD makes use of an analytical framework. The framework consists of the map attributes ‘frame’, ‘legend’, ‘time’, and ‘navigation’ (that I chose to apply as analytical lenses), and the affordances ‘co-creating’, ‘interfacing’, ‘playing’, and ‘performing’ (that I chose to apply as a reflection on the effects and affects that the different map apps produce).

Depending on the area that a case study serves, the affordances will be different. Co-creating is presented as a practice of participatory sense-making (serving society), collective ethnography (serving research), and situated learning (serving education).

Inter-facing is presented as a practice of aligning (serving society), juxtaposing (serving research), and de-familiarising (serving education). Playing is presented as a practice of critical thinking (serving education). Lastly, performing is presented as a practice of making public (serving society), enacting (serving research), and embodied learning (serving education).

Through exploring and defining the affordances of Digital Performative Mapping, the PhD proposes uses for map apps as a novel method of knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer, with which both the analytical framework and the interpretive reflection on the case studies form part of the research methodology.

Acknowledgement Throughout the writing of this dissertation, I have received a great deal of support from many people, but there is one person in particular that stands out: David Hamers. David, you were the one to see the potential of this PhD from the start. Thank you for your patient support and guidance, and for all of the opportunities I was given to further my research.

I would like to thank my promotors Veerle Van der Sluys, David Hamers, and my supervisor Bieke Cattoor, whose expertise was invaluable in formulating the research questions and methodology. Your insightful feedback pushed me to sharpen my thinking and brought my work to a higher level.

I wish to thank my partner Iván Fuciños Calle. I am incredibly thankful to you for your love and support, without which I could not have completed this dissertation.

I would like to acknowledge my colleagues on the TRADERS project: Annelies Vaneycken, Jon Geib, Michael Kaethler, Pablo Calderon, Saba Golchehr, and their supervisors; my colleagues from Design Academy Eindhoven; and colleagues from my secondment at STBY for their valuable collaborations. I would particularly like to single out my former colleague at Design Academy Eindhoven: Karianne Rygh. You have been a true friend throughout this whole journey. Thank you for that!

I would like to thank Nazli Cila, Wouter Meys, and Maarten Groen.

I truly enjoyed working with you!

I would also like to thank Sybille Lammes and Chris Perkins. Being introduced to your work was truly inspirational and helped me recognise the value of my research practice. I wish to thank you for having included me in your research programme on various occasions and for the inspiring people that I have met through these collaborations.

In addition, I would like to thank Nanna Verhoeff for having included me in [Urban Interfaces]. Through these meetings, I have met a number of individuals at Utrecht University who played a crucial role in sharpening my thinking, and that helped me better reflect on my case studies: Sigrid Merx (curator at Platform Scenography), Arash Ghajarjazi (a Master student at the time who assisted me in my research as intern), and Jasper van Vught (Assistant Professor at Utrecht University whom I continued working with for years).

Lastly, I would like to thank a number of individuals who not only supported me in the last stages of my PhD, but who also provided

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stimulating discussions and distractions to rest my mind outside of my research. Mercedes Coll, this whole PhD started and ended with your help. I am so grateful to have met you and to have shared this journey with you. Jordi Veytia, it was a great pleasure working with you! Niene Boeijen, your sharp view and input was indispensable. Toni Quesada, it was fun (co)working with you, thank you for the great graphic design work! Hans Laguna, thank you for giving me that last motivational push. Last but not least, Joel, thank you for helping me put things into perspective.

List of Publications Scientific Journal Bueno de Mesquita, N., Cila, N., Groen, M., & Meys, W. (2018).

Socio-technical Systems for Citizen Empowerment: How to Mediate Between Different Expectations and Levels of Participation in the Design of Civic Apps. International Journal of Electronic Governance, 10(2), 172-195. https://doi.org/10.1504/ IJEG.2018.093835

Book Hamers, D. Bueno de Mesquita, N. Vaneycken, A., & Schoffelen, J. (Eds.). (2017). Trading Places: Practices of Public Participation in Art and Design Research. dpr-Barcelona

Book Chapters Golchehr, S. & Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2018). Data-driven Design for Civic Participation. In O. Devisch, L. Huybrechts & R. De Ridder (Eds.), Participatory Design Theory (pp. 56-70). Routledge.

Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2017). Performative Mapping as a Case of Inter-facing Between Citizens and Undocumented Migrants. In D. Hamers, N. Bueno de Mesquita, A. Vaneycken, & J. Schoffelen (Eds.), Trading Places: Practices of Public Participation in Art and Design Research (pp. 45-57). dpr-Barcelona.

Conference Papers Bueno de Mesquita, N. & Hamers, D. (2017). Mapping Invisibility, RTD Conference, 27, 423-437. https://doi.org/10.6084/ m9.figshare.4747015.v1 Golchehr, S. & Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2015, May 21-22). Introducing Digital Methods For On-going Engagement for Design in Public Space: How Mining and Mapping Social Media Data Can Help Inform Spatial Designers About a Local Context. [Paper presentation]. Design, Social Media and Technology to Foster Civic Self-Organisation Conference, Hasselt, Belgium.

Magazine Article Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2021). Erasing As an Act of Creation.

Magazin #1, 21/22, Hrsg.: Schauspielhaus Wien, September 2021

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List of Map Presentations and Mapping Events Bueno de Mesquita, N (2021, November 19). Multiple Performative Mapping. Überschreiten und Übereignen Conference. Vienna, Austria.

Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2020, November 5) Critical Cartography [Map Presentation], De Grote Geo Show - Episode 12 - MapTime Special, online. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rl4-tPbfxOE Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2020, October 4 - November 29) Walk Away [Map App and Map Presentation] Mind Your Step, Zone2Source, Amsterdam, The Netherlands. https://zone2source.net/ nl/mind-your-step/ Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2016, September 2) Reading and Making Space through Performance [Map App Presentation] for track: Sensing, Walking and Embodiment With and By Technologies.

4S/EASST Science and Technology by Other Means Conference, Barcelona International Convention Centre, Barcelona, Spain.

Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2016, January 13). Digital Mapping [Presentation]. Mapping the World: Design and Conflicts, Design Debates Programme, Design Academy Eindhoven, Eindhoven, The Netherlands Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2015, October 25). What Moves You: Collective mapping of feelings that circulate during Eindhoven’s Dutch Design Week. [Map Presentation]. Dutch Design Week, MU Art Centre, Eindhoven, The Netherlands.

Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2015, July 1-4) TRADERS International Training Week on Multiple Performative Mapping. Design Academy Eindhoven and Utrecht University, The Netherlands.

Bueno de Mesquita, N. & Merx, S. (2015, June 24). Collective Mapping of Public Space [Map Presentation]. Prague Quadrennial of Performance Design and Space, Clam-Gallas Palace, Prague, Czech Republic.

Bueno de Mesquita, N., Merx, S. & Groot Nibbelink, L.(2015, April 17) Performative Cartography as social, educational and aesthetic strategy [Map App and Panel Presentation]. Play / Perform / Participate - International Society of Intermedial Studies, University of Utrecht, The Netherlands Bueno de Mesquita, N. (2015, January 23). Mapping Invisibility [Map Presentation]. State of Shelter: Can Creativity Help Refugees?

Frascati theatre Amsterdam, The Netherlands. https://www.whatdesigncando.com/stories/state-shelter-can-creativity-help-refugees/

List of Tables and Figures Tables Table 4.1 Description of the civic apps used in the taxonomy. Adapted from N. Bueno De Mesquita, N. Cila, N, M. Groen, and W. Meys, 2018, International Journal of Electronic Governance, 10(2), pp. 18-19 (https://doi.org/10.1504/IJEG.2018.093835) Table 4.2 Explanation of nine criteria with which the apps of Table 4.1 are examined. Adapted from N. Bueno De Mesquita, N. Cila, N, M. Groen, and W. Meys, 2018, International Journal of Electronic Governance, 10(2), pp. 18-19 (https://doi.org/10.1504/ IJEG.2018.093835) Table 4.3 The legend in the order in which it was generated and updated by the students during Co-creating Reality workshop. Produced by workshop participants.

Table 4.4 The categories that were chosen for the legend by the workshop participants in different mapping sessions in workshop Between Realities. Produced by workshop participants.

Figures Figure 1.1 Million Dollar Blocks’ project by the Spatial Information Design Lab. Retrieved July 5, 2021, from https://c4sr.columbia.edu/ Figure 2.1 William Gaver’s affordances scheme. Reproduced image from W. Gaver, 1991, Proceedings of the SIGCHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems, pp. 79–84.

Figure 2.2 An adaptation of Gaver’s affordances scheme. Produced by author.

Figure 2.3 Diagram demonstrating the different landscapes and approaches of design research. Reproduced image from S. Delle Monache and D. Rocchesso, 2014. International Journal of Design Vol. 8(3), p. 150.

Figure 2.4 Representation of three colours that are used throughout the book to indicate the different levels of reflection. Produced by author.

Figure 2.5 Diagram demonstrating the actants that are examined in the eight case studies.

Produced by author.

Figure 2.6 Diagram of the attributes and affordances that comprise the analytical framework.

Produced by author.

Figure 2.7 Action matrix used throughout the book to indicate my changing positions and roles within each case study. Reproduced image from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373 566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 3.1 Diagram indicating the attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study Mapping Invisibility. Produced by author.

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Figure 3.2 Diagram indicating the attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study Mapping Invisible Makers. Produced by author.

Figure 3.3 (part 1) Actants in the case study Mapping Invisibility. Overlay frame of Figure 3.3 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 3.3 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Mapping Invisibility. Produced by author.

Figure 3.4 Picture of workshop Mapping Invisibility. Produced by workshop participant Figure 3.5 Screenshots of the map of Amsterdam that was uploaded and updated in real time during the workshop Mapping Invisibility. The map demonstrates the walking trajectories of the undocumented. Produced by workshop participants Figure 3.6 Screenshot of the Mapping Invisibility app with the various audio tracks that could be selected and downloaded by the public. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.7 Picture of undocumented migrant during Mapping Invisibility workshop. The migrant explains the importance of central station for him. Produced by workshop participant.

Figure 3.8 Picture of undocumented migrant during Mapping Invisibility workshop. The migrant explains the meaning that the statue on the palace on the Dam has for him.

Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.9 Pictures taken during Mapping Invisibility workshop when the emotion ‘powerless’ was mapped. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.10 Pictures taken during Mapping Invisibility workshop, and that were uploaded simultaneously by different cartographer-duos when the feeling ‘stressed’ was being mapped. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.11 Pictures taken during explanation of Mapping Invisibility app. Produced by Mufti Ababujey.

Figure 3.12 Screenshot of map of Amsterdam while the four emotions were mapped in workshop Mapping Invisibility. On the right a zoom-in on Dam Square while the emotion ‘stressed’ was mapped. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.13 Three time-frames of Mapping Invisibility. Produced by author.

Figure 3.14 Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Mapping Invisibility. Adapted from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021, GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 3.15 (part 1) Actants in the case study Mapping Invisible Makers. Overlay frame of Figure 3.15 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 3.15 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Mapping Invisible Makers. Produced by author.

Figure 3.16 Screenshot of map interface Mapping Invisible Makers. Produced by author.

Figure 3.17 Screenshot of map interface Mapping Invisible Makers. Produced by au­­­­­­thor.

Figure 3.18 Screenshots of map of Poblenou visualisation Mapping Invisible Makers. Produced by author and workshop participants.

Figure 3.19 Pictures taken by the participating students of guerrilla gardening activities during workshop Mapping Invisible Makers. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.20 Picture taken of an informal maker during Mapping Invisible Makers workshop.

Produced by author.

Figure 3.21 Picture of an artwork of an informal maker. Produced by Nanny.

Figure 3.22 Map and legend of the ‘maker community’ in Poblenou according to Poblenou Urban District association. Retrieved May 1, 2020, from http://www.poblenouurbandistrict.com Figure 3.23 Map and legend of the ‘maker community’ in Poblenou according to Elisava students. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.24 Screenshot of map interface Mapping Invisible Makers, depicting the place that the interviewee had chosen to have the interview. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.25 Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Mapping Invisible Makers. Adapted from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021, GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373 566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 3.26 Pictures of Ciutat Nova magazine where Mapping Invisible Makers project is published. Produced by Danae Esparza Figure 4.1 Eleven apps compared and placed in a taxonomy. Reproduced from N. Bueno De Mesquita, N. Cila, N, M. Groen, and W. Meys, 2018, International Journal of Electronic Governance, 10(2), p. 20 (https://doi.org/10.1504/IJEG.2018.093835) Figure 4.2 Diagram indicating the attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study Co-creating Reality. Produced by author.

Figure 4.3 Diagram indicating the attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study Between Realities. Produced by author.

Figure 4.4 Diagram indicating the attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study What Moves You. Produced by author.

Figure 4.5 (part 1) Actants in the case study Co-creating Reality. Overlay frame of Figure 4.5 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 4.5 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Co-creating Reality. Produced by author.

Figure 4.6 Map of Venice city demonstrating the walked itineraries and waypoints of all the participating students in workshop Co-creating Reality, plotted onto one map.

Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.7 Map of Venice city with the names of the six districts, also called Sestieri. Produced by author.

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Figure 4.8 Map of Venice city with GPS inscriptions depicting the students walked itineraries in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.9 Zoom-in on the San Marco district to demonstrate the zig-zag line of the walked itineraries. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.10 Image of dead-ending street along the trajectory. This explains the zig-zag like pattern of some parts of the itineraries on the map of Figure 4.9. Produced by author.

Figure 4.11 Some of the pictures that were taken belonging to the category ‘dumped waste’ in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.12 Some of the pictures that were taken belonging to the category ‘hooks’ in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.13 Some of the pictures that were taken belonging to the category ‘improvised boat slipway’ in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.14 Some of the pictures that were taken belonging to the category ‘public chilling’ in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.15 Some of the pictures that were taken belonging to the category ‘message board notices offering services’ in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.16 Some of the pictures that were taken in Castello district belonging to the category ‘traces of pets’ in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.17 Some of the pictures that were taken in the Giudecca district belonging to the category ‘traces of pets’ in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by Ester van de Wiel.

Figure 4.18 A map of Venice city demonstrating the pictures/waypoints that were added by the students along their walked itineraries in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants and author.

Figure 4.19 A map of Venice city demonstrating the pictures that were added by the students along their walked itineraries that have to do with leisure-based tourists related traces and practices in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants and author.

Figure 4.20 A map of Venice city demonstrating the pictures that were added by the students along their walked itineraries that have to do with traces and practices of locals in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants and author.

Figure 4.21 A map of Venice city depicting the waypoints/pictures that were added by the students along their walked itineraries of the category “guerrilla gardening” in workshop Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants and author.

Figure 4.22 Some of the pictures that were taken belonging to the category ‘guerrilla gardening’, mostly taken in the Giudecca district in workshop Co-creating Reality.

Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.23 Picture of fruits, vegetables and herbs stalls in front of the women’s prison in Giudecca. Produced by author.

Figure 4.24 Photos of the interview with a healthcare worker from nursing home Zitelle in Giudecca. Produced by author and archive photos from nursing home Zitelle, Venice.

Figure 4.25 Photos of the interview with a local expert. Produced by author.

Figure 4.26 Screenshots of map of Venice region and a zoom-in on Venice city demonstrating where formal and informal fruit, vegetable, and herb gardens are located in this region, counting up to 166 places. Produced by local expert via Google Maps.

Retrieved April 10, 2021, from http://spiazziverdi.blogspot.com/ Figure 4.27 Some of the pictures that were uploaded to the map that belong to the category ‘illegal pedlars’ in Co-creating Reality mapping session. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.28 Some of the pictures that were uploaded to the map in the category ‘illegal pedlars’ in Co-creating Reality mapping session. In this case the photos demonstrate traces that are left on the pavement of the product that was sold. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.29 Map of Venice city demonstrating the waypoints/pictures that were added by the students along their walked itineraries belonging to the category ‘illegal pedlar’.

Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.30 Map of Venice city highlighting the escape routes used by illegal pedlars when enforcement officers are spotted. Title of map: “Illegal Street Vendors, Escape Routes 2007”. Reproduced image from Migropolis: Venice. Atlas of a Global Situation (Scheppe, 2009), pp 816-817.

Figure 4.31 Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Co-creating Reality. Adapted from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021, GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 4.32 (part 1) Actants in the case study Between Realities. Overlay frame of Figure 4.32 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 4.32 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Between Realities. Produced by author.

Figure 4.33 Picture of poster that was hung at the entrance of the main venue of the quadrennial for workshop Between Realities. Produced by Moniek Ellen and Tim Heijmans from design studio We-Are-Amp. Figure 4.34 Pictures of the map interface that the participants in the workshop Between Realities interacted with. Produced by Adela and Viktor Tuček.

Figure 4.35 Screenshot of map of Prague’s Old Town Square demonstrating the GPS inscriptions that were drawn by the participants. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.36 Screenshot of map of Prague’s Old Town Square demonstrating the spots where pictures were taken by the participants. Hovering over the map, the picture

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appears that belongs to the dot that is being scrolled over. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.37 Map of Prague’s Old Town Square demonstrating the GPS inscriptions of the participants of the mapping session Between Realities on June 23rd 2015 at 11:00 a.m. Produced by participating cartographers via Between Realities app. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks Figure 4.38 Some of the pictures taken by the participants belonging to the category “cleaners» in Between Realities mapping session. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal Figure 4.39 Some of the pictures taken by the participants belonging to the category “officials» in Between Realities mapping session. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal Figure 4.40 Map of Prague’s Old Town Square demonstrating the GPS inscriptions of the participants of the mapping session Between Realities on June 24th 2015 at 11 a.m. Produced by participating cartographers via Between Realities app. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks Figure 4.41 Map of Prague’s Old Town Square demonstrating the GPS inscriptions of the participants of the mapping session Between Realities on June 24th 2015 at 2 p.m. Produced by participating cartographers via Between Realities app. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks Figure 4.42 Map of Prague’s Old Town Square demonstrating the GPS inscriptions of the participants of the mapping session Between Realities on June 25th 2015 at 11:00 a.m. Produced by participating cartographers via Between Realities app. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks Figure 4.43 Pictures of a woman parading her dog in the square while the legend was discussed by the cartographers in workshop Between Realities. Produced by author.

Figure 4.44 Some of the pictures taken by the participants belonging to the category “lovers» in Between Realities mapping session. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal Figure 4.45 Some of the pictures taken by the participants belonging to the category “suitcase” in Between Realities mapping session. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal Figure 4.46 Maps of Prague’s Old Town Square with GPS inscriptions of the participants of the four mapping sessions combined. Produced by workshop participants via Between Realities app. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/ btwreal/tracks Figure 4.47 Picture of a participant/cartographer during mapping session Between Realities. This participant was “hiding» behind her phone while mapping a collective. Produced by author.

Figure 4.48 Picture of a participant/cartographer during mapping session Between Realities.

This participant mentioned to feel uncomfortable entering the private space of the ‘lovers’. Produced by Tessel Schmidt.

Figure 4.49 Picture of a participant/cartographer during mapping session Between Realities. This participant mentioned to feel uncomfortable standing too long next to an “official”.

Produced by Tessel Schmidt.

Figure 4.50 Pictures of a participant/cartographer mapping the collective ‘animals’ during mapping session Between Realities. In this case it meant running after a pigeon.

Produced by author.

Figure 4.51 Stills from a video in which a participant/cartographer was following a pigeon during mapping session Between Realities. The stills were taken with similar intervals from the video so as to demonstrate the pigeons and the cartographers’ capricious way of moving. Produced by author.

Figure 4.52 Stills from another video in which a participant/cartographer was following a pigeon during mapping session Between Realities. The stills were taken with similar intervals from the video so as to demonstrate the pigeons and the cartographers’ capricious way of moving. Produced by author.

Figure 4.53 Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Between Realities. Adapted from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021, GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 4.54 (part 1) Actants in the case study What Moves You. Overlay frame of Figure 4.54 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 4.54 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study What Moves You. Produced by author.

Figure 4.55 Invitation to participate in Mapping What Moves You. The flyer was handed out at venues throughout the city during Dutch Design Week. Produced by Niek Kosten.

Figure 4.56 Screenshot of the map interface of What Moves You, depicting an area of the city of Eindhoven. Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.57 Screenshot demonstrating the map projection that followed the itinerary of the measuring wheel during Dutch Design Week and photo where the map is discussed with two passers-by. Screenshot on the left produced by author. Photo on the right produced by Karianne Rygh.

Figure 4.58 Screenshot of map of Eindhoven during mapping What Moves You on day 4 of the event. The heat-map depicts the places in the city that were more or less emotionally-laden during this event, from blue (emotions that start to be mapped) to red (very emotionally-laden places). This map clearly highlights the three main areas where the event took place (Strijp S, Design Academy Eindhoven, and Sectie C).

Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.59 Screenshot of real time mapping What Moves You, zooming in on Design Academy Eindhoven. The map is a visualisation of the whole area in and around the venue.

The most chosen emotion for this area is ‘curious’. Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map.

Figure 4.60 Pictures that were taken in relation to the word ‘curious’ in the area of Design

15

Academy Eindhoven. None of the works are the same with which we can observe a wide variety of triggers for this emotion. We can see that also this project (the measuring wheel that is the 11th picture) was placed under this category by a participant. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw. performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.61 Screenshot of real time mapping What Moves You. The map is a visualisation of a part of the area where Design Academy Eindhoven is located. Here the most chosen word is ‘moved’. Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app.

Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.62 Pictures that were taken by DDW visitors in relation to the word ‘moved’ in the area of Design Academy Eindhoven. Two photos are taken of the same object by different people. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw. performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.63 Pictures taken by visitors of the same design research project at Design Academy Eindhoven but with different emotional triggers linked to it, in this case ‘confused’ and ‘embarrassed’. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https:// ddw.performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.64 Two screenshots of real time mapping What Moves You. The map on the left is a zoom-in of the area Strijp S. This map shows the whole area. The most chosen word for this area is ‘excited’. On the right a zoom-in of MU Art Centre (a venue located in Strijp S) which has the most variety of emotions linked to it. Produced

by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw. performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.65 Picture of works that were taken by the participants in Strijp S that were associated with the word ‘excited’. The first and the third pictures are taken of the same object revealing that those different participants feel the same about this work. Produced

by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping. net/map Figure 4.66 Picture of works that were taken by the participants in Strijp S. The installation at MU Art Centre was associated with the words ‘excited’, ‘moved’, ‘confused’ and ‘bored’. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.67 Screenshots of the map interface hovering over the area Sectie C. The bigger the word appears on the map, the more often it was chosen by different participants.

Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.68 Pictures that were taken by visitors of Dutch Design Week in Sectie C area. All these works triggered excitement with the participating visitors. Three pictures show the same work, taken by different people. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map Figure 4.69 Pictures that were taken by visitors of Dutch Design Week in Sectie C area. In both cases the same work triggers the feeling of alienation with different visitors.

Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map.

Figure 4.70 Photos of measuring wheel doubling as presentation device. The picture on the left

shows the object. The wheel was designed and made by Rinze Borm and Kariane Rygh in their studio Mint Fabriek in Tholen (Zeeland). On the right we can see a projection of the map on the wall at the entrance of Design Academy Eindhoven.

Produced by Karianne Rygh.

Figure 4.71 Photos demonstrating how I walked in different parts of the city with the measuring wheel and how I projected the map on different venues in order to invite different kinds of publics to participate and discuss the map collectively. Produced by Karianne Rygh.

Figure 4.72 Photo of presentation of real time map What Moves You to a designer who has his studio space in Sectie C. The designer wanted to know if his work was mapped and what emotions were subscribed to it. Produced by Karianne Rygh.

Figure 4.73 Photo of presentation of real time map What Moves You in Sectie C. Together with a visitor I discussed the pictures of works that were taken by the participating visitors and the emotions that were linked to it. Produced by Karianne Rygh.

Figure 4.74 Photo of presentation of real time map What Moves You at Design Academy Eindhoven. Together with a visitor I discussed the map and if emotions could be measured this way. Produced by Karianne Rygh.

Figure 4.75 Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study What Moves You. Adapted from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021, GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 5.1 Three diagrams demonstrating attributes and affordances of the case studies in chapter 5. The diagram on the left demonstrates the attributes and affordances examined in the case study Walk Away. The diagram in the middle demonstrates the attributes and affordances examined in the Near Games and the diagram on the right represents the attributes and affordances examined in Performative Mapping Game. Produced by author.

Figure 5.2 (part 1) Actants in the case study Walk Away. Overlay frame of Figure 5.2 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 5.2 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Walk Away. Produced by author.

Figure 5.3 Three stills from an animation of the map of Amsterdam in which Walk Away was used in this city for the duration of three months. This map was presented at Zone2Source (Amsterdam, 2020) for the exhibition Mind Your Step. Produced by participants.

Figure 5.4 Landmarks on the interface design of Google maps with suggestions how to navigate. Produced by author using Google Maps.

Figure 5.5 The interface design of Walk Away, containing no landmarks nor suggestions regarding how to navigate. Produced by author.

Figure 5.6 Two different groups of students of Utrecht University who are setting up their mobile phones prior to starting Walk Away (2015). Photo on the left produced by author. Photo on the right produced by Jasper van Vught (academic tutor of the course).

Figure 5.7 A screenshot of the way the Walk Away map interface was visualised with the

17

KM counter box incorporated. Each participant could see how much KM (s)he or another participant had removed from the map. Produced by participating students.

Figure 5.8 A schematic overview depicting the two time-frames in Walk Away. Produced by author.

Figure 5.9 Photos of a student that I followed who was using the map app Walk Away.

Produced by author.

Figure 5.10 Screenshot from the app Walk Away after the 2nd iteration. Here a user had to walk a street several times to achieve complete erasure of a street. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.11 Presentation of Walk Away for the exhibition Mind Your Step, a group exhibition about the art of walking. Photo on the left and photo in the middle produced by Karianne Rygh. Photo on the right produced by author.

Figure 5.12 Actants in Walk Away before 3rd iteration. Produced by author.

Figure 5.13 Actants in Walk Away after 3rd iteration. Produced by author.

Figure 5.14 Photo of a participant using the map interface on her mobile phone. Produced by author.

Figure 5.15 The map in the middle is a screenshot before use of the Walk Away app. The map on the right is a screenshot of the Walk Away app while it was being used by the conference attendees. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.16 Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Walk Away. Adapted from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021, GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 5.17 (part 1) & Figure 5.18 (part 1) Actants in the case study Near Games. Overlay frame of Figure 5.17 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 5.17 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Near Games with map app You Are Near. Overlay frame of Figure 5.18 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 5.18 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Near Games with map apps We Are Near and We Are Nearer. Produced by author.

Figure 5.19 Screenshots of the map interface while the game You Are Near was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.20 Screenshots of map interface while the game We Are Near was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. Here there are two digitally stimulated objects. Each team has to surround the object of his/her colour. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.21 Screenshots of the map interface while the game We Are Nearer was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.22 Pictures taken of Utrecht University students while they were playing the game We Are Nearer. It demonstrates the objects used by the students to hide behind while playing the game. Produced by author.

Figure 5.23 Pictures taken of Utrecht University students while they were playing the game We Are Nearer. It demonstrates how students were trying to run out of the camera frame while playing the game. Produced by author.

Figure 5.24 Some pictures that were taken by me and the participants while Utrecht University students were playing the game We Are Near in 2015. It demonstrates the remote places that the players were going to while playing the game. Photo on the left produced by author. Photos in the middle and right produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.25 Some pictures that were shared in the group chat while the game We Are Near was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. In this case street texts and street names were used in the communication between team members. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.26 Some pictures that were shared in the group chat while the game We Are Near was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. In this case construction materials, garbage bags, dumped material, etc., were used in the communication between team members. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.27 Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Near Games. Adapted from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021, GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 5.28 (part 1) Actants in the case study Performative Mapping Game. Overlay frame of Figure 5.28 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 5.28 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Performative Mapping Game. Produced by author.

Figure 5.29 Screenshot of the map interface in Performative Mapping Game in the modus ‘performing tasks’. The green dots indicate the tasks that still need to be performed.

Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.30 Screenshot of the map interface in Performative Mapping Game in the modus ‘performing tasks’. The blue dots indicate the tasks that have been performed. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.31 Screenshot of the interface in Performative Mapping Game in the modus ‘creating tasks’. In this example the task was assigned as text file. Produced by workshop participant.

Figure 5.32 Screenshot of the interface in Performative Mapping Game in the modus ‘creating tasks’. In this example the task was assigned as image file. Produced by workshop participant.

Figure 5.33 Pictures that were uploaded by Utrecht University students who were playing Performative Mapping Game in 2015. These examples depict tasks that sought to appropriate (an item of) public space with the idea to break conventions. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.34 Pictures that were uploaded by Utrecht University students who were playing Performative Mapping Game in 2015. These examples depict tasks that sought to

19

use public art, public statues or items of public space with the idea to give them new meaning. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.35 Pictures that were uploaded by Utrecht University students who were playing Performative Mapping Game in 2015. These examples depict tasks that sought to perform or re-enact a certain item, statue or idea. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.36 Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Performative Mapping Game. Adapted from G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021, GeoHumanities (https://doi.org/10.1080/2373 566X.2021.1915699).

Figure 6.1 Mapping Invisibility represented in three time-frames (this diagram was also used in chapter 3). Produced by author.

Figure 6.2 Picture of Bio Mapping device: GPS, finger-cuffs, and data logger. Reproduced image from C. Nold, 2009, pp. 2 - 13. Emotional Cartography. Retrieved April 1, 2021, from http://emotionalcartography.net/EmotionalCartography.pdf Figure 6.3 Visualisation of Bio Mapping data plotted on Google Earth. The height of the track indicates the physiological arousal at that point. Reproduced image from C. Nold, 2009, pp. 2 - 13. Emotional Cartography. Retrieved April 1, 2021, from http:// emotionalcartography.net/EmotionalCartography.pdf Figure 6.4 Overview of the features collected in each question in web app Emotional Maps.

Reproduced image from J. Pánek (2018) Journal of Maps, 15(1), p.10. Retrieved April 1, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.1080/17445647.2018.1546624 Figure 6.5 Overview of the features collected in each question in web app Emotional Maps.

Reproduced image from J. Pánek (2018) Journal of Maps, 15(1), p.9. Retrieved April 1, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.1080/17445647.2018.1546624 Figure 7.1 Diagram of the affordances, attributes, and practices that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the societal domain. Produced by author.

Figure 7.2 Diagram of the affordances, attributes, and practices that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the domain of research. Produced by author.

Figure 7.3 Diagram of the affordances, attributes, and practices that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the domain of education. Produced by author.

Table of Contents Colophon

2

Abstract

3

Acknowledgement

5

List of Publications

7

List of Map Presentations and Mapping Events

8

List of Tables and Figures

9

1.

INTRODUCTION

1.1 Research context

25 25

1.1.1 TRADERS Framework

25

1.1.2 Public participation in art and design research

26

1.1.3 Participatory turn in cartographic theory

27

1.1.4 Critical cartography as embodied and experiential

28

1.2 Research question(s)

30

1.3 Research contribution(s)

30

1.4 Thesis outline

32

2.

34

METHODOLOGY

2.1 Positioning

34

2.2 Theories

37

2.2.1 The public domain in the digital era

37

2.2.2 Spatial theories and the map app as digital spatial medium

39

2.2.3 Embodied interaction

41

2.2.4 Affordances

42

2.3 Research approach

45

2.3.1 Research through Design

45

2.3.2 Participatory Exploratory Action Research

47

2.3.3 Case study methodology and the map app as research method

48

2.4 Analytical framework

51

2.4.1 Map app attributes as analytical lenses: frame, legend, time, navigation 51 2.4.2 Map app affordances: co-creating, inter-facing, playing, performing

56

21

DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING

2.5 Visual synthesis

3.

60

2.5.1 Levels of reflection: descriptive, analytical, interpretive

60

2.5.2 Actants diagram in descriptive reflection

61

2.5.3 Attributes-Affordances diagram in analytical reflection

65

2.5.4 Associative map in analytical reflection

66

2.5.5 Action matrix in analytical reflection

66

DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING AND SOCIETY

68

3.1 Mapping Invisibility A case on inter-facing between citizens and undocumented migrants

69

3.1.1 People, spaces, tools, data

69

3.1.2 Co-creating to probe the legend in the walk

73

3.1.3 Navigation as empowering vantage point

75

3.1.4 Time as attribute to distinguish between the individual and the collective

76

3.1.5 Performing as a way of aligning

77

3.1.6 Inter-facing between the public and the private

80

3.1.7 Positioning and contributions

81

3.2 Mapping Invisible Makers

4.

A case on inter-facing between formal and informal makers

84

3.2.1 People, spaces, tools, data

85

3.2.2 Co-creating the legend comprising invisible makers

89

3.2.3 Inter-facing between the formal and the informal

92

3.2.4 Positioning and contributions

94

DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING AND RESEARCH

98

4.1 The participatory affordances of civic apps 4.2 Civic apps compared

99 100

4.3 Co-creating Reality A case on negotiating informal use of space

109

4.3.1 People, spaces, tools, data

109

4.3.2 Constructing the legend in real time and in mobility

112

4.3.3 Co-creating as a relational practice

123

4.3.4 Positioning and contributions

125

4.4 Between Realities A case on examining the scenography of public space

128

4.4.1 People, spaces, tools, data

129

4.4.2 Co-creating the legend of public performers

132

4.4.3 Drawing with time

133

4.4.4 Public performers as navigational guides

134

4.4.5 Diverse ways of performing and different performing publics

139

4.5 What Moves You A case on collective mapping of feelings that circulate during

5.

Eindhoven’s Dutch Design Week

145

4.5.1 People, spaces, tools, data

146

4.5.2 Co-creating the legend of emotions: the experience of Dutch Design Week mapped by visitors

149

4.5.3 Collective altering of the map’s frame

155

4.5.4 The performative affordances of What Moves You

155

4.5.5 Performing the map with the public

156

4.5.6 Inter-facing between different publics

158

4.5.7 Positioning and contributions

159

DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING AND EDUCATION

161

5.1 Locative media, play, and spatial theory 5.1.1 Theories of play

162 164

5.2 Walk Away A case on navigating white space

167

5.2.1 People, spaces, tools, data

167

5.2.2 Navigating the erased map

168

5.2.3 Walk Away and the playful state of mind

170

5.2.4 Inter-facing between the conceived, perceived, and lived space

172

5.2.5 Co-creation and the empowering potentials of Walk Away

175

5.2.6 Erasing as embodied critical cartography

178

5.2.7 Positioning and contributions

181

5.3 Near Games A case on navigating the grey area collectively

184

5.3.1 People, spaces, tools, data

185

5.3.2 Playing in Near Games and the continuously evolving game board

189

5.3.3 Collective adaptation of the maps’ frame

191

5.3.4 Collective forms of navigation

192

5.3.5 Co-creating spatial stories

195

5.3.6 Positioning and contributions

200

5.4 Performative Mapping Game A case on co-creating spatial stories

202

5.4.1 People, spaces, tools, data

203

5.4.2 Navigating public space with an eye for detail

205

23

DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING

6.

5.4.3 Inter-facing between the public, the private, and the parochial

206

5.4.4 Co-creating and performing spatial stories

207

5.4.5 The playful affordances of Performative Mapping Game

208

5.4.6 Positioning and contributions

210

INTERPRETATION

212

6.1 Contribution of Digital Performative Mapping to civic engagement

214

6.1.1 Co-creating as a practice of participatory sense-making

214

6.1.2 Inter-facing as a practice of (ex)changing and aligning

217

6.1.3 Performing as a practice of making public

218

6.2 Contribution of Digital Performative Mapping to design driven ethnography

219

6.2.1 Co-creating as a practice of participatory ethnography

220

6.2.2 Inter-facing as a practice of juxtaposing

225

6.2.3 Performing as a practice of enacting in mobility

226

6.3 Contribution of Digital Performative Mapping to situated and collective approaches to learning

229

6.3.1 Co-creating as a practice of situated learning

229

6.3.2 Playing as a practice of critical thinking

231

6.3.3 Inter-facing as a practice of de-familiarising

234

6.3.4 Performing as a practice of embodied learning

237

CONCLUSION

240

7.

7.1 Positioning

240

7.2 Contribution to the societal domain

241

7.3 Contribution to research

242

7.4 Contribution to education

244

7.5 Critical notes, limitations, and future research

246

7.5.1 Design at the intersection of the physical, the technological, and the sociopolitical

246

7.5.2 New hybrid classifications

247

7.5.3 Bridging the gap between theory and practice

248

References

251

1. INTRODUCTION John Brian Harley (1987) once stated that maps serve as “mediators between an inner mental world and an outer physical world, that maps are fundamental tools helping the human mind make sense of its universe at various scales” (p. 1). A map, in effect, is a way to make sense of the world, but how this is done and who is included in this practice matters. The relevant question to ask is how mediation between the ‘inner mental world’ and ‘outer physical world’ takes place and shape and who is involved in the practice of sense-making. After all, it is in the interpretation of data and their representation that a certain narrative about the world is constructed, with which, in turn new worlds are constructed. It is not necessarily in the map itself but in the choices inherent in map-making where agency and power are exercised. Where in analogue cartography, decisions in map-making —such as the choice for the frame, scale or legend— are traditionally made by the cartographer(s), in the era of digital cartography new opportunities arise for public participation in map creation, and new dynamics emerge regarding agency and power in the practice of sense-making.

1.1 Research context 1.1.1 TRADERS Framework This PhD trajectory initiated under the TRADERS framework which stands for Training Art and Design Researchers in Participation for Public Space. TRADERS was a four-year European research program that looked into the role of art and design on participation in public space and public issues.1 With the idea that social, economic, and environmental changes ask for a rethinking and repositioning of artists and designers in society, the TRADERS program questioned how artists and designers could engage people to participate in public issues. At the same time, the project aimed to develop tools to train future art and design practitioners and researchers in doing so.

Six researchers (including myself) with a background in art, design, architecture, and social sciences tested and developed a specific method on which art and design researchers could rely when working on public space projects in participatory ways.2 Furthermore, they examined how these methods fit in a larger methodological framework that could guide future artists and designers (or researchers and practitioners in other fields) to work in participatory and public space contexts, resulting in a framework for training.

My contribution to the TRADERS program has been to investigate the potential of digital mapping as a participatory method in art and design research, a work that eventually grew into a doctoral research. With TRADERS being a joint project and most of the

1

The project commenced in 2013 and ran until 2017. TRADERS received funding from the European Union’s Seventh Framework Program for research, technological development and demonstration under grant agreement no. 608299.

2

The methods that were tested and developed for the TRADERS program were: ’play‘ (Annelies Vaneycken at University of Gothenburg, Gothenburg, Sweden), ’multiple performative mapping‘ (myself at Design Academy Eindhoven, the Netherlands), ’data-mining‘ (Saba Golchehr at Royal Collage of Art, London, United Kingdom), ’modelling in dialogue‘ (Jon Geib at Chalmers University of Technology, Gothenburg, Sweden), ’intervention‘ (Pablo Calderon at Luca School of Arts, Genk, Belgium), and ’curating‘ (Michael Kaethler at KU Leuven, Belgium).

25

DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING

researchers in the program working with analogue techniques, I was able to make a valuable contribution to the topic of participation from the perspective of the digital.

Furthermore, performing my PhD (for KU Leuven but) within Design Academy Eindhoven —which at the time mostly focused on analogue mapping techniques— has made me aware of the difficult relationship between the field of design research and digital technologies with which the urgency of my doctorate in this field became evident.

In the next section, the context of this PhD is explained, the research questions are introduced, and the contributions of the PhD are presented. Finally, this chapter provides an overview of the thesis so as to have a guideline on how to read this book.

1.1.2 Public participation in art and design research The proclaimed welfare state is slowly but surely evolving into a participation society in which citizens are increasingly held accountable for their own lives and immediate surroundings. We can see this global trend —in which people become an active ‘maker and shaper’ of the realities that affect their lives rather than mere users of policies (Cornwall & Gaventa, 2001)— already emerging a decade ago. In 2011, President Barack Obama issued a memo declaring transparency, collaboration and participation as his core values and in which he asked agencies to pursue those values with the use of innovative tools, methods and systems (Nath, 2011). Two years later, the Dutch King delivered a message from the government to the people saying that the welfare state was going to make place for a participation society. In the UK, in that same period, a transformation was underway from ‘the big government’ to ‘the big society’. The proposals of these global developments assume that governments alone cannot solve complex societal issues. Instead, by making the public services more accountable to citizens, decentralising power and expanding the opportunities for civic participation, it is aimed that an active citizenry will play a greater role in tackling problems that affect communities (Hilton et al., 2010). As a consequence, the roles/responsibilities of citizens and the roles/ responsibilities of municipalities and governments were and still are vastly changing.

On the one hand, governments are exploring ways to have citizens more engaged, while on the other hand citizen expectations to be involved in the decisions made by governments/municipalities are increasing worldwide.

One of the most pressing questions from the government’s perspective is how to motivate citizens to participate in the desired ways. At the same time, we can see an increment in participatory art and design projects that have been popping up over the last decades, and a growing number of art and design programmes that (have) receive(d) funding (including the TRADERS program itself) with the aim to increase citizen participation. A possible explanation for this development comes from Susanne Täuber, a researcher in social psychology who investigates how the implementation of a political course influences social and human behaviour. According to Täuber (2018), persuasion is the most prominent tool that is used by governments in the Netherlands and elsewhere to increase citizen participation. Through persuasion, the government is not enforcing desired behaviour through extrinsic rules and laws, but rather tries to intrinsically motivate people through changing their understanding of what represents their best interests. The interest in persuasion techniques is a possible explanation for the increased demand for art and design researchers in this global change, taking into

consideration that people working in these fields are experts in the language of persuasion (Redström, 2006).

Although proposals to increase citizen participation are not problematic in themselves —on the contrary, citizen participation has an enormous potential to empower citizens (Pimbert & Wakeford, 2001) by democratising decision-making with specific, tangible objectives that enhance knowledge, capacity, skills, expertise and social goals (Todman, 2004, as cited in Doyle, 2008)— they become problematic when they are used instrumentally or when (using public money or public services) they favour certain communities over others. Scrutiny is needed in claims of empowerment. This involves understanding with what objectives a project is funded, what communities are voiced or empowered and how this is achieved. To understand my role in this bigger picture, I embarked this PhD with a critical inquiry into citizen participation in art and design projects.

1.1.3 Participatory turn in cartographic theory As my PhD focuses on digital mapping, I have mainly looked at applications that make use of a digital map interface as a means to engage citizens in public (space) issues.

For example, I have looked at Verbeterdebuurt (CreativeCrowds BV, 2018)3, FixMyStreet (mySociety, 2008)4, BuitenBeter (Yucat BV, 2010)5, Commonwealth Connect (SeeClickFix, 2013)6, Urban Tapestries (Proboscis, 2002)7, Kerrokantasi (City of Helsinki, 2015)8, Bio Mapping9, Urban Forest Map10, and Smart Citizen tool11. There are many more examples of citizen participation tools and apps that make use of a digital map interface, for instance, in participatory GIS or Virtual Reality games. The choice for these apps has to do with the following criteria: the creators of these apps all claim to empower citizens, data in these apps is collected by citizens, and information is available about the different stakeholders involved. In my examination, I focus specifically on the affordances of the map interface. In many applications, I have discovered pitfalls when it comes to claims of empowerment. Because of their aesthetics, user-friendliness or playful approach, most of the tools and apps that I looked at are able to create incentives for participation, but they fail to embed more confronting interactions or ones that create space for differing views or ideas. As a consequence, many of these projects do not represent a public domain but (consciously or unconsciously) focus on a community of similarly minded or already empowered citizens who work together towards a common goal. As 3

For more details on this application, refer to Table 4.1 in chapter 4 of this book

4

For more details on this application, refer to Table 4.1 in chapter 4 of this book

5

For more details on this application, refer to Table 4.1 in chapter 4 of this book.

6

For more details on this application, refer to Table 4.1 in chapter 4 of this book.

7

Urban Tapestries is a place-based public authoring application. It combines low-cost robotics with geo-annotation (Proboscis, 2002).

8

For more details on this application, refer to Table 4.1 in chapter 4 of this book.

9

Bio Mapping (Nold, 2004) is a tool that makes use of a map interface to visualise people’s stress responses in public spaces. For more details on this tool, refer to chapter 6 of this book.

10 Urban Forest Map (SciStarter, 2014) is a collaborative effort to map every tree in the city of San Francisco. Citizens can get involved by searching for trees, verifying records, and by adding trees in their neighbourhood. “The Urban Forest Map relies on crowdsourcing to fill in any gaps in the data collected by the city, allowing users to add new trees as well as document stewardship activities like watering or pruning. And, as a means of appealing to residents on a more personal level, each tree also has its own page and users are encouraged to upload photos to help tell trees’ stories” (Bousquet, 2017).

11 Smart Citizen (Fab Lab Barcelona, 2012) is a Barcelona based initiative that develops digital tools with which citizens can generate real time data and maps. The aim is to create awareness about city related issues (such as noise disturbance or air pollution) and empower communities to seek solutions.

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a consequence, they are often oriented towards dissimilating differences rather than dealing with complexities or incorporating differences within a community. Furthermore, the examined apps often fail to embed certain conditions to incentivise participation of people who are less inclined to participate in the public domain. The shortcomings that I have encountered have enabled me to inform my case studies and define what this PhD seeks to contribute to different domains.

1.1.4 Critical cartography as embodied and experiential Being situated in the field of critical cartography, the initial quest of this PhD is to scrutinise the relation between the map, the spatial data it represents, and the world (views) that it produces. Problematising these relations is not new; the hidden agendas of cartography have been extensively critiqued and opposed through counter mappings,12 especially within the field of critical cartography.13 An interesting example of critical cartography is the Million Dollar Blocks project (Spatial Information Design Lab, 2006). With the “Million Dollar Blocks» maps, the Spatial Information Design Lab of the Columbia Centre for Spatial Research in collaboration with the Justice Mapping Center have sought to place the United States penal system under scrutiny. Instead of highlighting the highest crime-scene areas (of which many maps are to be found) these maps highlight the neighbourhoods of the prisoners’ homes. In many places, the concentration is so dense that states are spending in excess of a million dollars a year to incarcerate the residents of single city blocks (see Figure 1.1). In Brooklyn (NY), for example, added up block by block, the cost to imprison people in 2003 was $359 million dollars. These maps suggest that the criminal justice system has become the predominant government institution in the communities where prisoners come from —spending up to one million dollars of tax money on a single block— while the same money could be invested in education, housing, health, etc. in those same areas, preventing the incarceration in the first place. By emphasising data that otherwise stays occult, a different story is told.

Figure 1.1

12 Counter-mappings were put forward by critical cartographers in the last decade of the 20th century as new mapping practices to challenge formal maps of the state. Counter-mappings mostly refer to maps made by indigenous cartographers but can include maps from other sources as well. Counter-mappers work in reaction to what they describe as intrusion by colonial influences. Counter-maps have been used to press indigenous claims for rights over land.

13 Advocates of critical cartography such as John Brian Harley (2008) aimed to reveal the ‘hidden agendas of cartography’ as tools of socio-spatial power. The aim of Critical Cartography is to reduce the gap between a more technically oriented map design and a more theoretical analysis of power in society.

Note: On the left a map of the prison expenditures by census block in Brooklyn, NY, 2003, represented as dollar totals. On the right a zoom-in on a part of this map. This zoom-in visualises the incarceration of 31 men over two blocks in Brownsville, Brooklyn, NY, 2003. The total cost of their incarceration is 4.4 million dollars. Reprinted from Columbia, Centre for Spatial Research (2006) Prison expenditures in Brooklyn (left) and Prison expenditures per capita in Brooklyn’s Community District 16 (right) [Maps]. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://c4sr.columbia. edu/projects/million-dollar-blocks

Although critical cartography projects such as Million Dollar Blocks are very interesting as a means to demonstrate how the use of ‘other’ data or a different legend can produce other/new realities —with which they are able to contest existing ones— it is predominantly through representations (such as maps as data visualisation) that critical cartography has been exercised. This PhD’s focus is on the participatory potentials of map apps to engage with criticality in a more embodied way. Many examples of critical maps were found but when it comes to embodied and more experiential ways of interacting with maps as an exercise of critical thinking, it was much harder to find examples. As a matter of fact, almost no accounts could be found of research on critical cartography as embodied interaction with the digital map.

The reason that it is interesting to look at maps from an embodied perspective is because cartography has taken a radical turn with the digitisation of maps and the public appropriation of digital tools. Due to applications and software that allow people to (re)make maps, the clear-cut line between map-maker and map user has become blurry and contested. For example, the public availability of GPS, the developments in OSM (OpenStreetMap, 2004) and Participatory GIS (The Technical Centre for Agricultural and Rural Cooperation, 2014, 03:15-05:21), and the open sourcing of mapping practices by Google in which its programming libraries and data formats are released (De Souza e Silva & Frith, 2012) have all contributed to a participatory turn in cartographic theory. Digital technologies have not only given people agency in the choice of data to map, they have also (and most importantly) enabled people to participate in the practice of meaning-making that is inherent in cartography. The shifts towards mass availability, networked connectivity, and interactivity have led to a rise in the number of people who are involved in the creation of maps and in mapping as a practice of collective meaning-making.

This PhD proposes that due to these developments new potentials for critical cartography have presented themselves with which criticality can be exercised in novel ways. I therefore propose Digital Performative Mapping as a practice of critical thinking that is more embodied and experiential. A way in which this is done, amongst others, is through empowering disadvantaged communities. I demonstrate how some of my self-designed map apps allow for appropriation and collective co-authorship of spaces. In this quest I am especially interested in the design choices that enable to voice communities who (due to various reasons) are less inclined to participate in the public domain or who have limited access to this sphere.

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1.2 Research question(s) Performative cartography alludes to the participatory turn in cartographic theory, where maps are studied as products of co-creative relationships between maps and users, an approach that contends the idea of maps as objective representations but also one that concerns the design of mapping conditions rather than the design of maps. Performative cartography, thus, sees maps as inherently open to use and presents opportunities for designers to use maps as a method for participation in public space and public issues. Furthermore, it is through Digital Performative Mapping that the involvement and simultaneous participation of multiple and diverse actors can be afforded.

Although the performative turn in cartography is presented and described extensively in literature on critical cartography,14 almost no accounts could be found of examples where the map app is presented as a method for embodied learning to inform those theories, in other words; of the formative role that embodied interaction with the map plays on knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer.

In this PhD research, I design map apps that are used with participants in workshop sessions to examine this over-arching research question: In what ways can Digital Performative Mapping afford participation in public (space) issues and what kind of knowledge does embodied interaction with the map produce?

This question contains three subordinate research questions: RQ1) Which characteristics of map apps have the potential to engage citizens in public (space) issues?

RQ2) Which potentials and/or uses of map apps can be applied as design driven ethnographic research?

RQ3) What kind of learning experiences does Digital Performative Mapping generate?

In this dissertation, I describe eight case studies15 and ten map apps. Each case study analyses (a) self-designed map app(s)16 while answering one of the previously mentioned research questions. In continuation, I give a brief overview of each case study, the research question it seeks to answer and the domains that it seeks to contribute to.

1.3 Research contribution(s) If we go back to the earlier described sub-questions, we can assign the contributions of the doctoral research to three fields/domains: society, research, and education.

Firstly, the PhD examines the participatory potentials of map apps for societal purpose.

Art and design are potentially powerful means to engage people in public space issues.

The doctorate demonstrates how specifically Digital Performative Mapping is able to

14 Some of the most prominent authors to describe this performative turn are David Harvey, Doreen Massey, Nigel Thrift, Jeremy Crampton, and Chris Perkins.

15 The following case studies are presented in this dissertation: Mapping Invisibility, Mapping Invisible Makers, Co-creating Reality, Between Realities, What Moves You, Walk Away, Near Games, Performative Mapping Game.

16 The only case study that analyses three self-designed map apps is Near Games.

give authorship to marginalised groups. Thus, the sub-question “which characteristics of map apps have the potential to engage citizens in public (space) issues?” primarily serves society. The case studies of chapter 3 seek to answer this first sub-question.

The first case study (Mapping Invisibility) focuses on the potentials of Digital Performative Mapping as a form of inter-facing and as a means to include disadvantaged communities in the public domain. The second case study (Mapping Invisible Makers) focuses on the potentials of Digital Performative Mapping as a practice of juxtaposing public issues, such as top-down with bottom-up maker practices in the city. Chapter 3 primarily seeks to make a contribution to society by examining the affordances of Digital Performative Mapping as a means to civic participation and to empower disadvantaged communities. Furthermore, chapter 3 looks at what constitutes publicness (or “making things public”) and how through this practice new publics can be included.

Secondly, the PhD examines the potentials of map apps for research purpose. The doctoral research was initially performed at Design Academy Eindhoven, where I was in contact with the (formerly called) ‘Public Space’ undergraduate program. Although the undergraduate programs at the academy have a long tradition in mapping, the focus in design research has so far predominantly been on analogue mapping techniques. I briefly explain the troublesome relationship between digital technologies and design research that I have encountered over the course of my doctoral research, then I present opportunities for the field of design research to incorporate digital methods into its curriculum. The three case studies that are presented in chapter 4 all look at the potentials of design driven ethno-cartography for research purpose. In the first case study (Co-creating Reality), I focus on the creation of the legend as a form of collective meaning-making, while in the second case study (Between Realities) I focus on the performative potentials of collective mapping. In the last case-study (What Moves You) my focus is on the real time component of collective mapping, where the projected and continuously changing map becomes a conversation piece. Chapter 4 primarily seeks to make a contribution to research by examining the affordances of Digital Performative Mapping as a means to perform collective ethnography, and as an exercise to juxtapose and trade positions.

Lastly, the PhD examines the potentials of map apps for educational purpose. I do this by outlining what embodied interaction with map apps can contribute to knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer. The research through design (RtD) approach presents practice and experience as a legitimate form of knowledge (generation) to established academic methodologies, especially in the field of Human Computer Interaction (HCI), focusing on shared experiences, everyday routines, fleeting encounters, and embodied practices. The case studies of chapter 5 look at the learning experiences that the map apps afford in educational context. The first case study (Walk Away) focuses on the potentials of erasing as a practice of critical cartography, and as an experiential way to engage with, and re-examine spatial theories. In the case study that follows (Near Games), Digital Performative Mapping is examined for its ability to engage with theories in a playful, collective, and embodied way. In the last game that is presented in this chapter (Performative Mapping Game) I focus on spatial stories that are co-created to learn in an embodied way about the places that are mapped and their subjective meanings. The apps in chapter 5 were all used by university students and seek to re-examine

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theories through embodied interactions with the map, and through collective practices via the map. Chapter 5 primarily seeks to make a contribution to education by examining the affordances of Digital Performative Mapping as a means to critical thinking and to engage in situated and collective forms of learning that incorporate embodied experience.

In answering the above-mentioned questions, I adopt a research through design approach while, at the same time using a pre-theoretical framework. This framework consists of theories from the humanities and Human-Computer Interaction (HCI).

They act as a scaffolding to support and enable sense-making of the research content.

Through critical reflection on each case study, I create links between research practice and theory without anchoring the research in specific theories too pre-maturely.

As the research evolves, the pre-theoretical framework grows into the main theoretical framework, informed by both, the research practice and reflection on it. The next paragraphs will explain the outline of the dissertation with which it will become clear how the different case studies relate to one another.

1.4 Thesis outline The dissertation comprises three levels of reflection: descriptive, analytical, and interpretive.

The first level of reflection is descriptive and corresponds to the first section of chapters 3, 4, and 5. This reflection comprises a description of the context under which each case study was performed. A circle diagram is included to demonstrate the actants17 of each case study (an explanation of this diagram will follow in chapter 2). This level of reflection corresponds to the ‘people, spaces, tools, data’ section (which is always the first section) of chapters 3, 4 and, 5.

The second level of reflection is analytical and corresponds to chapters 3, 4, and 5 (minus the first section of those chapters). This reflection comprises an examination of the apps, where relations between the ten self-designed map apps are drawn. For this examination an analytical framework is applied. The framework is supported by four key attributes of map-making —frame, legend, time, and navigation— that are used as analytical lenses. Departing from a classical categorisation of attributes within cartography —frame, legend, scale, and orientation— I look at the added value of the digital interface in cartographic practice with which new emerging and overlapping features are presented within these attributes; thus, here I argue to make the shift from scale to time, and from orientation to navigation. The analytical lenses ‘frame, legend, time, and navigation’ structure the reflection on the case studies, and enable to make a comparison between the apps while the chosen categories afford reusable results from the reflection.

17 I borrow the term ‘actant’ from Bruno Latour, which he coined in the 1980’s. It was used to describe all actors involved in Actor-Network-Theory (ANT). One of the core assumptions of the theory is that ‘society’ is always in the making and thus is constantly reconfigured. ANT attempts to provide analytical tools for explaining the very process by which this happens. What distinguishes it from other constructivist approaches is that science and technology play a key role. In this quest, the classical opposition between active persons and passive objects is problematised. The proposition is that non-human or more-thanhuman elements can also have some form of agency within a network with which the term ‘actant’ is proposed as a more neutral word to examine all action potential within a network. (Latour, 2007) Although this research does not do an ActorNetwork-Theory analysis, it does describe the action potential or affordances of each ‘actor’ in the network and therefore borrows the word actant.

Additionally, I present four affordances of Digital Performative Mapping, being; Interfacing, playing, co-creating, and performing. Of course, there are more affordances that could be mentioned but the choice for these has to do with the questions that this doctoral research poses, and the topics/problems it addresses. To illustrate, in looking at the potentials for civic-engagement, the affordance inter-facing is examined, and when looking at the potentials of embodied learning, the affordance for playing or performing are examined. In the next chapter, the four affordances will be explained in more detail.

In the analytical reflection —comprising attributes and affordances— I stay close to the materiality of the research while I briefly explore what this case study can mean for the domain(s) it serves in a short concluding paragraph. In these chapters I use parts of already published material where the self-designed map apps had been presented by myself, such as peer reviewed journal papers or book chapters. The difference is that in this section of the dissertation the individual published case studies are brought together and the relationships between the different cases are further discussed.

The third level of reflection is interpretive and corresponds to chapter 6. In this chapter I interpret the findings in light of the three main questions that are linked to the domains.

In this chapter, the different case studies are brought into relation again but here it is done by looking at how knowledge is acquired, and made transferable through use of the map apps. For this examination I use the previously mentioned affordances ‘interfacing, playing, co-creating, and performing’ to reflect on the effect/affects of Digital Performative Mapping for the domains that this PhD serves.

Throughout the dissertation, a visual synthesis is presented. This synthesis demarcates the relation between the eight case studies by using a cartographic logic where overlaps and juxtapositions between the cases are shown. Each map attribute (the analytical lens), affordance (that what is brought about by the attribute), and field/purpose that the research serves, has its own graphic representation with which each case is materialised through an associative map (the map that can be found on the last page of each case study). All of this is made legible by incorporating a bookmark that contains a legend. The artistic output of this research lies both in the cases that are carried out with the self-designed tools, as well as in the way the results are presented in this book.

Apart from the artistic output, the creation of this visual synthesis was a process that has continuously aided the reflection and the writing, with which also in the writing of the dissertation a Research through Design approach was applied.

Finally, in the last chapter (chapter 7) I give a summary of the book and discuss the limitations of this PhD. I conclude with some critical notes, and propose directions for future research.

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2. METHODOLOGY In the previous chapter I have introduced the TRADERS framework to familiarise with the context of this doctoral research. I then problematised issues related to public participation in art and design research. In continuation I explained the participatory turn in cartographic theory to position my doctoral research. I then gave examples of design projects that aim to increase citizen participation while using a digital map interface, and I briefly presented shortcomings in those projects when it comes to claims of empowerment. This way I was able to present the research question(s) and the contributions of this doctoral research to three different domains.

In this chapter, I demarcate the territory of this PhD by introducing the different disciplines that the research is situated between. Afterwards, I describe the approaches and methodology of this PhD. This is done through laying out the theories that I use to reflect on the research practice and through furthermore elaborating on the analytical lenses that I use to reflect on the ten self-designed map apps. I distinguish between: (a) theories and methods I use to set up my cases and learn from those cases to answer the research questions for the domains that the PhD seeks to make a contribution to, and (b) the theoretical debates in which I want to make some critical points with which I reinforce my main argument.

2.1 Positioning This doctoral research is situated in the field of critical cartography, a cross-disciplinary field of study that developed in the late 1980s and early 1990s in opposition to the dominant tradition of cartography proclaiming to be a neutral reflection of the environment (Wood & Krygier, 2016). To better understand critical cartography, we have to look at its roots; critical thinking.

In the philosophy of Michel Foucault, critical thinking or ‘critique’ is described as the politics of epistemology. It does so by examining the grounds on which our knowledge is based through examining the relationship between power and knowledge from a historical perspective after which it is concerned with resisting, challenging or even overthrowing own categories of thought (Crampton & Krygier, 2005). Critical thinking and critical cartography alike do not seek to escape from categories but rather seek to demonstrate how they are constructed and what other possibilities there are. This sense of ‘critique’ that is inherent in critical thinking was initially developed by Immanuel Kant. For Kant, ‘critique’ is an investigation which involves “laying bare and describing the claims being made, and then evaluating such claims in light of their original meanings” (Christensen, 1982, p. 39). Kant’s essay on the question of the Enlightenment describes critical philosophy as one in which people constantly strive to know and challenge authority.

Drawing from postmodernist philosophers such as Foucault, critical cartographers contend that maps have always been produced to benefit the visions of the ruling class.

Critical cartography moves the map into a space of critical thinking, and this way seeks to surface ingrained perspectives on our understanding of the world that are portrayed through maps. As such, critical maps are often used as tools for artists or activists that are

committed to social justice to pursue ‘other’ narratives or ones that counter dominant (colonial) descriptions of space, time, and memory. As this PhD research is concerned with examining methods for critical thinking in participatory and educational setting, it borrows from Joe Kincheloe’s (2008) idea of ‘evolving criticality’ to involve the experiences of the learners/participants it works with.

Kincheloe —in his description of the politics of epistemology— contends that critical theory/pedagogy is never static but always evolving and changing in light of new insights, new problems, and social circumstances. Thus, Kincheloe’s evolving criticality not only draws on the Frankfurt School18 but also explores diverse global theoretical and practical traditions that expand our understanding of criticality. Kincheloe contends that the problem with critical pedagogies in the tradition of Cartesian-Newtonian-Baconian ways of seeing the world —that emerged with the birth of the scientific method— is that they depart from an epistemology where truth is situated in an external reality or one that is located in external events. Producing knowledge in this way, according to Kincheloe, fails to incorporate the experiences, thoughts, moods, understandings, and sensations of the learners. Kincheloe, therefore, proposes to talk of an ‘evolving criticality’ as a means to underscore the changing nature of criticality and this way incorporate the histories, social contexts, and experiences of the learners. In his quest, Kincheloe draws on John Dewey’s (1910) idea of ‘critical pedagogy’.

Leaning heavily on constructivism19 and applying a Research through Design approach (later on I will explain what this approach entails) where theory and practice continuously inform each other, the doctoral research is particularly interested in Dewey’s perspective of critical thinking for educational purpose, which he more commonly referred to as ‘reflective action’.20 For the American philosopher, reflective action is generated by an encounter with, the potential meaning inherent in an experience, and the conscious perception of it. Thus, reflective action is a tool to transform an experience into meaning-filled theory that is grounded in experience. The precondition for this to happen is to “be present to the nature of the experience and to have an openness to its potential meanings”. After all, “not everyone is able to perceive the potential of an apple falling from a tree the same way Newton perceived the inherent significance of the event” (Rodgers, 2002, p. 850).

While Dewey describes the process of reflective action as being rigorous and systematic —with which it distinguishes from other, less-structured types of thinking—, it is hard to find examples of a more systematic appliance of his theory in design research (where Dewey is often referenced). We have to look at where design research distinguishes from scientific research in order to understand this apparent lack of rigour. I will start by looking at what reflective thinking can bring to design research in the first place, and how this differs from other fields of research.

18 The Frankfurt School is a school of social theory and critical philosophy dating from the 1930’s. It was founded by a group of scholars —amongst which Max Horkheimer, Theodor W. Adorno, Herbert Marcuse, Walter Benjamin, and Jürgen Habermas— who developed critical theory and dialectical methods to interrogate society’s contradictions. (Bohman, J., Flynn, J., & Celikates, R., 2019) 19 Constructivism is “an approach to learning that holds that people actively construct or make their own knowledge and that reality is determined by the experiences of the learner.” (Elliott et al., 2000, p. 256).

20 Action’ is a key term in this PhD, both in the design of the map interfaces as well as in the use of the map apps in which action research is applied.

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Following Dewey’s path, Donald Schön (1983) states that reflective action (or reflective thinking) is a significant factor in solving design problems but Schön, furthermore, contends that the ill-structured and complex nature of design problems makes it unlikely for designers to handle all possible situations in a new problem by rigidly following theories, techniques, or systematic procedures. Instead, Schön proposes that designers depend on ‘‘a kind of improvisation, inventing and testing in the strategies of their own devising’’ (p. 5). During the cycle of improvisation, inventing, and testing strategies, it is necessary for practitioners to bring reflection into play as to give it research value.

William Gaver (2012), in a similar vein, contends that design research is a field that often addresses wicked problems21 for which not one solution exists, and for which reformulating the situation is integral to addressing it. Thus, it is precisely in the reformulation (which often implicates a reformulation of the problem) where the specificity of design research lies. Rather than defining ‘what is?’ —a question that is more prone to a scientific approach— design research is concerned with problematising the ‘is’, either through surfacing (unseen, ignored, surprising) aspects of it, or by creating ‘what might be’ —aided by its tools and methods— that other fields can’t, or are less capable of. Thus, evidence in design research, according to Gaver, lies not in “making falsifiable statements, or arranging tests to refute such statements as that would run against the grain of the methodological approach of research through design. Design research, instead, tends to be generative and suggestive in nature.” (p. 940).

The question remains, however, how Dewey’s scientific method of reflective action can be applied more systematically in a Research through Design approach, taking into consideration that most design problems are context-dependent and domain-specific (Jonassen, 2000). If a design researcher wants to act reflectively about, or inquire into his/her practice, how does he/she go about in doing so? To answer this question, I will draw on Carol Rodgers (2002) research in which she presents various criteria that she has distilled from Dewey’s writings that characterise the concept of reflection and the purposes it serves. The most important one for my presented approach of Digital Performative Mapping is that “reflection should be experiential and a meaning-making process”. According to Dewey (1910), this process “moves a learner from one experience into the next, with a deeper understanding of its relationships with, and connections to other experiences and ideas.” It is the thread that makes the continuity of learning possible, and ensures the progress of the individual and, ultimately, society”.22 Furthermore, what Dewey underscores is that experiences alone are not enough; “it is through the ability to perceive and weave meaning among the threads of experience that they are given value” (Rodgers, p. 845). Dewey, furthermore, states that reflection needs to happen in community, in interaction with others.

This PhD research seeks to create conditions with which public (space) issues can be experienced in diverse/novel ways. What is relevant here is that Digital Performative Mapping enables to engage in critical thinking while collectively discussing and/or weaving meaning into a personal experience. Dewey is relevant for this enquiry as his 21 A wicked problem is a problem that is difficult or impossible to solve because of incomplete, contradictory, and changing requirements that are often difficult to recognise. Classic examples of wicked problems include economic, environmental, and political issues. Rittel and Webber coined the term in 1973 in the context of problems of social policy, an arena in which a purely scientific-engineering approach could not be applied because of the lack of a clear problem definition and differing perspectives of stakeholders.

22 It should be understood that for Dewey, reflection is a means to moral ends and to a more democratic society.

philosophy of reflective action involves meaning-making in a collective manner. Thus, being situated in critical cartography with a design research approach, this PhD does not create critical maps as such, it rather produces conditions for critical thinking that are enabled through collective interactions with or through the digital map.

2.2 Theories The following paragraphs highlight the relevant theories that I use in order to make sense of the research practice. While some theories and debates are the context from which my research questions were defined, I also make critical points in these debates as a means to strengthen my main argument.

In the following section I present theories that are relevant to issues related to participation in the public domain. From these theories, the context for my doctorate research is drawn. They are also relevant for reflecting on the case studies in which I seek to make a societal contribution. In continuation I explain how I operationalise the public domain in this PhD.

2.2.1 The public domain in the digital era This doctoral research departs from the premise that the public realm is a shared ‘commons’, where individuals, seeking democratic access for a common purpose or goal, should have equal opportunity to participate in it (De Waal, 2014). In determining who is included in this sphere and whether there is indeed an equal opportunity for participation, we have to understand where today’s public domain is, and what constitutes participation in it.

Traditionally, the public domain is defined by places in the city where an exchange between different social groups can takes place; when different groups of people become attached to a particular place and somehow must reach a compromise. The work of Hannah Arendt and Jurgen Habermas attempt to theorise about the conditions that are necessary for a discursive public realm, free of structural oppression or manipulation, which they describe as an arena of discursive interaction which is central to democratic theory and practice (Villa, 1992).

The surge of mobile devices in public spaces have contributed to a radical shift in what constitutes (participation in) the public domain. With these devices, it is increasingly more common for people to alternate between the physical and the virtual, and engage in new forms of encounters and co-presence. Furthermore, with the continuous altering between the physical and the virtual —being ‘here’ and ‘there’ at the same time— that is inherent in the use of mobile devices, the public domain is not any longer a clearly definable sphere. While with mobile devices new unexpected places have manifested themselves as a public domain, software installed on those devices have become decisive in how the public (but also the private, and parochial) domain(s) is/are constructed and accessed in the physical world (Hayer & Reijndorp, 2001). It is unclear what effect these technologies have on (participation in) the public domain. As a consequence, some sociology scholars and media theorists —such as Evgeny Morozov (2012)— contend that the public domain is in a crisis or even on the verge of extinction.

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Where Arendt’s and Habermas’ conceptions of the public domain have come under sharp attack by postmodern theorists such as Foucault —who have questioned the basic presuppositions of public domain theory— public space as a physical-virtual hybrid has steered this debate into new directions. After all, computer–mediated communication has to a large extent taken the place of Habermas coffeehouse discourse and the very concept of pubic is to be understood as a heterogenous set of forms and expressions.

For example, in today’s examination of the public sphere, issues such as media ownership and commodification should be examined, as they pose threats to the free flow of information and freedom of speech on the Web. In a similar vein, the prefix ‘geo’ — attached to nearly every media-related subject of today— should be examined for the way in which increasingly more people are traced, tracked, and tagged everywhere they go. This prefix goes accompanied with geo-googlisation and geo-exclusion (Thielmann et al., 2012), that is; a location-based awareness that is dictated and conditioned by algorithms. Thus, our surfing on the Web —most commonly based on the algorithmic undercurrent of Google— becomes authoritative for the way in which we navigate in public spaces or participate in the public domain. Due to the above-mentioned developments, the public domain is to be studies as one that not only encompasses physical places and behaviours but also virtual platforms and behaviours while looking at their relation. This PhD’s focus is on the role that design can play in participating in the public domain. Here, I position myself between Martijn de Waal’s and Chantal Mouffe’s discourse regarding the role that design should have in this context.

De Waal (2014) argues that the public domain is a shared ‘commons’, where individuals, seeking democratic access for a common purpose or good, should have equal opportunity to participate in it. As these practices have emerged from, and often use virtual platforms, De Waal sees the role of design as to facilitate the participation in public issues through digital methods, such as digital mapping practices while art in his view, is purposed with enabling ‘strangers’ to work together on shared commons in a playful way.

Political theorist Chantal Mouffe (2005) challenges this view, arguing that public space is increasingly the subject of conflict that is linked to issues of power, control and hegemony. Mouffe assigns a role to art and design as to create a space of contestation rather than that of finding common ground. In this space, conflict should be able to manifest itself in a meaningful way, not oriented towards victory or defeat, but emphasising the importance of the struggle itself, a struggle that cannot exist without the opponent. Art and design, in her view, should accommodate oppositional perspectives and paradoxical ideologies in relation to public space and public issues.

I problematise De Waal’s discourse and the view that is represented in many creative public space projects in their inability to embed more confronting interactions or ones that cater multi-vocality (enabling different views or ideas).23 Although many of such projects might be successful in their ability to create incentives for participation due to their understanding of public space as a physical-virtual hybrid, they often tend to attract similar-minded people, are orientated towards dissimulating differences or they focus on a community of already empowered citizens who work together towards a common goal. On the other hand, in Mouffe’s discourse —and that of other theorists of social and spatial theory— I have often observed a lack of understanding of the physical-virtual hybrid that encompasses the public domain.

23 Examples of such projects are given in chapter 4 of this book.

In the following section I present spatial theories and theories that concern the map as digital spatial medium. These theories are relevant for the examination of my apps in the way in which they seek to make a contribution to research and education.

2.2.2 Spatial theories and the map app as digital spatial medium According to the French philosopher Henri Lefebvre (1992), space is a social construct which composition is subject to the workings of historical forces. When these forces change, space changes accordingly. Lefebvre distinguishes between three ways in which space is constructed: 1) Space as it is realised through technocratic acts such as planning, urbanism and cartography, which he calls ‘conceived space’. The conceived space is the represented space, as it is conceptualised by scientists, planners, urbanists, and ‘technocratic subdividers’; 2) Space as it is encountered in the everyday life which he calls ‘perceived space’. This is the space of everyday life, the space that one actually encounters. This space is both, shaped physically —thinking of the itineraries that people take— as well as mentally—the rituals and associations that arise in the course of time from the use of these spaces. The perceived space works without consistency or overlying hierarchy; 3) The friction between the above mentioned perceived and conceived space is what Lefebvre calls ‘lived space’. This space is populated by users that combine their subjective experiences of perceived space with that of the imposed conceived space, which produces a space full of conflicts between meanings and strategies (Chesher, 2012).

Cartography, according to Lefebvre, belongs to the domain of the conceived space. The kind of map-making that Lefebvre talks about is derived from a Euclidean conception of space. The model is based on a set of axioms that define all that may enter its space in terms of certain relations. Euclidean space has three axioms that define what it means for an object to be placed there. Euclidean space is an abstract model for space and many theorists, in line with Lefebvre, state that applying geometry on space is problematic.

It becomes problematic if we conceptualise space as something that is continuously redefined (individually or collectively) through everyday practices; the everyday life in which space is made and contested via social discourse and performance. Furthermore, coupled with software and algorithms, digital technologies can easily augment the Euclidean logic.

Spatial practice is a term coined by Lefebvre. It stands for any practice that challenges and alters existing configurations of space (based on the previously mentioned assumptions on how space is constructed). Though it applies to any of the three named categories, Lefebvre assigns spatial practice mainly to the category of perceived space. It is here —in the space of social relations, of production and reproduction, and of experiences of daily life— where Lefebvre locates potential for alternative and counter-spaces.

I argue that the interaction of people with the digital map in my apps makes of mapping a spatial practice — one that is able to move the map from the realm of the conceived to that of the lived space. In this regard, I present the map as a digital spatial medium that enables to re-examine the theories presented earlier.

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Digital spatial media affords an interaction between the map-maker and the map user, and between map users amongst each other. In this practice, continuous interaction takes place between physical space and virtual space. In these different dynamics, space is always under construction. According to Chesher (2012), locative media generates an interactive relationship between the user and space. Because the position of the user in my apps is also visible on the screen, an interaction arises between the user and the conceived space. The user incorporates the digital map (the conceived space) with the space around him/her (the perceived space); a merged space in which the users move in the lived space. Therefore, it is relevant to conduct research into the lived space that is meditated by a digital spatial medium. The map apps that are presented in chapter 5 are examples of such. They are digital spatial media that use the Global Positioning System to mediate spatial processes and, in some cases, to mediate navigation.

Media theorist Sybille Lammes (2009) adds to this idea, that cartography as a digital spatial medium has given us a new sense of place. She contends that through the ability to influence its form, digital maps —to a large extent— have become personal and subjective. As a consequence, it has not only changed our conception of maps as objective representations of space, but it has made of the map a personal resource with which the user is able to construct a spatial story. I approach the word ‘story’ in a very different way than literary scholars, who have specific requirements for a narrative to be called a story. In my case it is about meaning-making which has nothing to do with narrative structures, characters, etc. In spatial stories it is mainly about the combination of giving meaning to space by means of movements through and talking about the space.24 The term spatial story was coined by the French philosopher Michel de Certeau. De Certeau (1984) described it as a way to experience spatial relations in daily life, “the organising principle of all human activity” (De Certeau, 1984, p. 115; see also Lammes, 2009, p. 225). To understand how spatial stories are created, De Certeau makes a distinction between place and space; place referring to the way in which spatiality is displayed in ‘objective’ representations, such as a map, while space relating to the way in which we deal with spatiality in daily life. To illustrate this, De Certeau gives the example of walking through the city. He presents the geometrical configuration of the streets as a place, while the act of walking through the streets turns it into a space. De Certeau’s place can be identified as the conceived space of Lefebvre, and De Certeau’s space as the lived space where the user and the map work together.25 In this PhD, I propose practices of mapping that seek to move the conceived space of the map (where a map is situated in De Certeau’s conception) to that of a lived space, where the cartographers as mobile mappers co-create spatial stories.

In the following section I present theories related to embodied interaction. Here, I look at the way in which embodied interaction with the map enables to produce and transfer knowledge in specific ways. These theories are relevant to examine the apps from the perspective of knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer (where the PhD predominantly serves education).

24 I also contrast this word with the (all too) popular word ´storytelling´ that is often used in design research.

25 This understanding of place and space is different from that of a large portion of geographic literature where ‘space’ is often referred to as abstract/distant and place as filled with meaning.

2.2.3 Embodied interaction One of the affordances of Digital Performative Mapping is that it enables embodied interaction with the map. Embodied interaction is central to the idea of embodiment that is rooted in phenomenology, dating from the end of the nineteenth century.

Phenomenology originates in the work of philosopher and mathematician Edmund Husserl and was further developed by his pupil Martin Heidegger (1927; Steiner, 1991) in his work Being and Time. Phenomenology is a branch of philosophy that rejects the Cartesian mind-body dualism (the separation between mind and body) on which most traditional philosophical approaches are based —and that is rooted in Western culture—, and seeks to include the body and experiences with the body in philosophy.

Heidegger proposes a move from the realm of ideas to the realm of day-to-day experience, and foregrounds embodiment as the property of being in the world with which meaning is conveyed. Paul Dourish (2004) builds on the phenomenological perspective and presents embodiment as a foundational concept for HCI. Dourish, therefore, proposes embodied interaction as “the creation, manipulation, and sharing of meaning through engaged interaction with artefacts.” (p. 4) The basic idea in Dourish’s thought is that embodied interaction connects action to meaning.

Embodied interaction is derived from Embodied Cognition theory which stands in stark contrast to the classical model offered by cognitive science (Simon, 1996; Fodor, 1983) where cognition is something located in the head, detached from the world, planned ahead, reasoned about before being acted out (van Dijk, 2013, p. 20). Embodied cognition, differently, is concerned with how people deal with the world and give it meaning while engaging with it, that is; ‘in action’. Embodied interaction addresses physical computing, wearables, haptics, and tangible interactions, and moves the interaction off the screen into the real world.

In presenting an understanding of embodied interaction as the process of meaning-making, Dourish (1999) describes three main points of what constitutes embodied interaction: “interaction is physically and socially embodied; ontology arises out of activity; and meaning subsides in embodied action” (p. 12). Rather than embedding fixed notions of meaning within technologies, embodied interaction is thus based on the understanding that users create and communicate meaning through their interaction with the system, and with each other through the system. In this line of thought, embodiment is not about people or systems, but about our understanding of the world, of ourselves, and of interaction that comes from our location in a physical and social world that consist of embodied factors. In Dourish’s (2004) words: “embodiment is not a property of systems, technologies, or artefacts; it is a property of interaction. Cartesian approaches separate mind, body, and thought from action, but embodied interaction emphasises their duality.” (p. 189). Embodiment, thus, is the property of being manifest in and of the everyday world, and constitutes the transition from the realm of ideas to the realm of everyday experience.

Dourish’s conception of embodiment in HCI is especially relevant with the surge of mobile devices. While in the past, computational devices were directed at the bridging of distances, today, they are mobilised and context aware, also serving other purposes such as ‘connecting’ us to people and services in our direct vicinity. An implication of the use of mobile devices in combination with location-based applications, is that their design is often directed at smart-city policy, pushing citizens into limited roles of, for instance,

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consumers.26 Also, a dependence on navigation systems increasingly impedes the ability to experience where one is, and renders the aimless stroll or chance encounter increasingly remote. It raises questions about the implications for the public domain of only finding what one is looking for and remaining clueless of what one is missing.

Following Dourish’s conceptions of embodied interaction, I examine the relation that action and meaning-making bear, and how the process of meaning-making that resides in embodied action can take place collectively. For this purpose, I design map apps that are location aware as a means to context-specific learning. It is only by being present on location that specific knowledge is unlocked through (directed) bodily actions. Furthermore, I look at how embodied interaction with the map enables to acquire meaning in more experiential and collective ways. To come back to Harley’s definition in which he stated that maps serve as mediator between an ‘inner mental world’ and an ‘outer physical world’, my focus is then, on embodied interaction with the map and where the digital map is a mediator between those worlds. What is unique in this quest is that, other than most public space artefacts that draw upon Dourish’s idea of interaction27, Digital Performative Mapping enables a simultaneous interaction with the map (by different participants) as collective meaning-making process.

In the following section I present the theory of affordances that are relevant for the analytical and interpretive reflection on the case studies.

2.2.4 Affordances The concept of an affordance was coined by the perceptual psychologist James J. Gibson (1979; 2014). Gibson stated that affordances are the properties of an object that allow it to function. The idea behind it is that physical clues of an object can steer desired actions, such as a doorknob that gives the clue that a door can be opened. The concept was introduced to the HCI community by Donald Norman (1988) where he expanded on Gibson’s idea, referring to affordances as actions that the user perceives as being possible based on how an object is presented. Norman would later coin this as ‘perceived affordances’ (1999) which can be defined as actions that are perceived to be possible based on the design, distinct from actions that are actually possible. In the design of interactions, actual and perceived affordances must be taken into consideration; after all, desired actions cannot be accomplished if an object does not afford it while afforded actions will not be carried out if the user does not perceive them.

To clarify these differences, William Gaver (1991) created a scheme (see Figure 2.1) with which he separated affordances from the perceptual information available about them.

In Gaver’s scheme, a ‘false affordance’ stands for something with no action possibility, but the information that specifies it does have an action possibility (for example, a door in augmented reality). A ‘correct rejection’ exists when there is no affordance and no perceptual information to specify it, whereas a ‘hidden affordance’ exists when the affordance is there but the specifying perceptual information is not (for example, a hidden door). In Gaver’s scheme, both ‘false’ affordance’ and ‘perceptible affordance’ are in line with Norman’s ‘perceived affordance’. According to Norman, the decisive factor is the perceptual information, so when it is there, regardless of whether the actual affordance

26 Clear examples are to be found in popular apps such as Google maps, Pokémon Go or Foursquare.

27 Many examples of artefacts that use embodied interaction can be found in the book Responsive Public Spaces (Suurenbroek et al., 2019)

also is, we may talk about a perceived affordance in Norman’s conception (indicated by the grey area in the scheme of Figure 2.1). Different to Gibson, Norman states that apart from how an object is presented, perceived affordances are also dependent on culture, prior knowledge or expectations of the individual. In this way, Gibson focuses only on the action capabilities of the actor and not, like Norman, on the perceptual and mental capabilities. Defining affordances from these perspectives allows us to distinguish between the utility and usability of a designed interaction or object. The aim is to design in such way that the affordances match the users expectations (Gibson’s conception) while the information that specifies the affordances should improve the usability (Norman’s conception). (Soegaard, n.d) Figure 2.1

Note: William Gaver’s scheme with which he distinguishes between actual affordances and the perceptual information that specifies affordances. From “Technology affordances,” by W. Gaver, 1991, Proceedings of the SIGCHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems, pp. 79–84 (https://doi.org/10.1145/108844.108856). Copyright 1991 by William Gaver.

As mentioned earlier, the self-designed map apps in this PhD are used as tools to examine my research questions with. Therefore, I do not seek to optimise the utility and usability of the apps as that would require another research approach. My focus is on affordances that are relevant for my research questions and to this end, I examine certain affordances of the self-designed map apps. In various of the presented map apps, certain conditions are built-in with which users can determine how to adapt the map that other/new users will interact with. In these cases, the design is not solely steering the interaction to a specific use, but the app creates conditions for the user(s) to influence the interaction of other/new users. Thus, while Gibson’s notion of affordance corresponds to the utility of an object or interaction (the action possibility of the interaction), and Norman’s notion of affordance corresponds to that of usability of an object or interaction (the way the action possibility is perceived), I expand on these by presenting a notion of affordance that corresponds to how the design can be adapted by the user. I refer to this as the performative affordance.

I illustrate this expansion on Gaver’s scheme in Figure 2.2. The x (affordance or utility) and y (perceptual information or usability) axis are made into a sliding scale from less to more instead of Gaver’s ‘yes’ and ‘no’ blocks. This is due to the fact that in my case studies the action possibility of an interaction does not only/always depend on its intended use or design, but on more (often unforeseen) factors or underlying mechanisms (which I 43

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will later further exemplify via the actants diagrams) with which I contend that the utility is often more fluctuating and ambiguous than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. I have also observed that the way that the action possibility is perceived does not merely depend on the way it is presented or on the user (such as his/her background, prior knowledge of map apps, etc), but is furthermore influenced by the way in which users have interacted (the arrows in Figure 2.2 that represent sequential use) or simultaneously interact (the arrows in Figure 2.2 that represent collective use) with the digital map interface. Different to Gibson and Norman, my notion of affordance takes into consideration that the positioning in Gaver’s scheme —the point where utility (affordance) and usability (perceptual information) intersect— is guided by how the map design is being altered by its users, and therefore I make of Gaver’s scheme an action matrix (Figure 2.2) to illustrate this notion of performativity.

Figure 2.2 An adaptation of Gaver’s scheme into an action matrix with which I illustrate how I expand on Gibson’s and Norman’s notion of affordance by adding the notion of affordance that corresponds to performativity.

To give an example: At the beginning of the interaction with one of the map apps in this PhD, a user will have the ability to erase the streets of the map through performing certain actions. Although the affordance of erasure that is incorporated in the app might give the user a clue that the map can be erased, it is through walking with one’s mobile phone and the map interface in one’s hand that the user experiences how his/her movement is able to alter the map design. This correlates with the utility of the app (the actual affordance of erasure/co-creation) and how the action possibility is perceived, depending on a user’s interest to participate (his/her playful state of mind), his/her associations with erasure, his/her previous experience with map apps (expectations), etc. But here I go a step further. Through user’s A (see Figure 2.2) ability to erase the map, this user is also able to change its design. The altered map-design on account of this user will influence how user B will interact with the map, and in the way that this new user looks at the city and perceives the affordance of erasure. For instance, if user A has erased/is erasing a part of the map where user B happens to be, user B will not perceive the affordance of erasure the same way as before. This way, user A is able to affect the perceptual information about the affordance of erasure. Thus, with the notion of performativity I refer to the affordance in which a user can adapt the design and thus the positioning in Gaver’s scheme.

In the next section, I will describe the Research through Design approach of this PhD and the participatory exploratory research that I perform. Furthermore, I describe the case study methodology that I apply while presenting the map app as research method.

2.3 Research approach 2.3.1 Research through Design As explained earlier, this doctoral research applies a Research Through Design (RtD) approach. In this approach, design practice is combined with theory and experiments.

The terminology ‘Research through Art and Design’ was first used by Christopher Frayling in a reading at Royal College of Art in 1993 where he indicated three ways in which doing research would be of interest to the design community: research into art and design, research through art and design, and research for art and design.28 Later, this taxonomy was adapted by Lois Frankel and Martin Racine (2010) to Research about Design, Research through Design, and Research for Design (see Figure 2.3).

Figure 2.3

Note: This diagram demonstrates the different landscapes and approaches of design research. Adapted from “Bauhaus Legacy in Research through Design: the case of basic sonic interaction design”, by S. Delle Monache and D. Rocchesso, 2014. International Journal of Design Vol. 8(3), p. 150. Copyright 2014 by Delle Monache & Rocchesso.

Research about Design is theory oriented and seeks to theorise about the process of design and the way designers work (Buchanan, 2001; Zimmerman et al., 2007). It focuses on design thinking, processes and methods. Nigel Cross’ (2001) Designerly

28 In later discussions, the phrase ‘art and design’ was shortened to just ‘design’. Some authors would take the shorter term for convenience, or because they felt less at ease with art in their academic community; others were to broaden the argument to the diversity of cultures within design, or even because they did not see the difference between art and design.

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Ways of Knowing is a typical example of research about design. Research for Design is concerned with providing information and insights that designers can use in specific design projects in order to improve their designs. Approaches such as design-oriented research (Fallman, 2003), usability testing and user research are examples of Research for Design (Frankel & Racine, 2010). Lastly, Research through Design is about creating knowledge through action-reflection (Jonas, 2007) which aim is to provide an explanation or theory within a broader context that can be used in future projects (Frankel & Racine, 2010) or to generate new knowledge outside of the design field. Jonas’ (2007) action-reflection and Schön’s (1987) reflection in action (2007) fall under this category.

The process followed in participatory design and experience design are examples of Research through Design (Frankel & Racine, 2010).

John Zimmerman, Erik Stolterman, and Jodi Forlizzi (2010), define RtD as a research approach that employs methods and processes from design practice as a legitimate method of inquiry and as a way to complement the ruling positivist paradigm of experimental research that has been especially dominant in HCI. RtD uses experimental and exploratory design practice as a means to develop questions that could not be asked in controlled laboratory settings (Stolterman, 2008). Thus, applying a practice-based approach that is situated in RtD, the PhD is concerned with the design of map apps that users interact with as a method of inquiry and as a means to generate learning experiences that are hard or impossible to obtain via other methods.

Applying a RtD approach requires certain skills and qualities. Design researchers are accustomed to working with wicked problems within multi and trans-disciplinary settings. What the design researcher contributes to this network/milieu is that (s)he can create linkages that researchers from other disciplines are less capable of. This is partly due to skills of the designer such as her/his capacity for abductive reasoning29 and due to her/his ability to take on different roles. Manuela Aguirre, Natalia Agudelo, and Jonathan Romm (2017) contend that knowing when to shift roles and/or intervene is what indeed differentiates design research from scientific research and that this can be subscribed to the sensitivity of the designer. According to Aguirre et al. this sensitivity allows the design researcher to “access deeper layers of interpretation” (p. 200) that remain inaccessible to scientific research such as research that involves distant observation.

Another attribute that makes the design researcher relevant in multi and trans-disciplinary settings is the fact that (s)he contributes in tacit knowledge. In contrast to explicit knowledge —which deals with knowledge that is written down and structured— tacit knowledge is implicit and embedded in experience. The distinction between tacit and explicit knowledge was first made by Michael Polyani in the 1960s and is until today pivotal to understanding the kind of problems that designers work with, and the difficulties they often encounter in articulating the knowledge that is implicit in their practice. The tacit knowledge that is proper to design has also been described as know-how (implicit knowledge) as opposed to know-that (explicit knowledge or facts). In his epistemology of practice, Schön also talks about a kind of knowledge that is implicit in action, which he describes as knowing-in-action.

Throughout the PhD, I have also engaged in many different roles including the role of

29 Abductive reasoning is a form of logic/reasoning formulated by American philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce around the year 1865. Different to declarative reasoning (which goal is to declare a conclusion to be true or false) adductive reasoning seeks to posit what could possibly be true.

designer, workshop facilitator, mediator, ethnographer, interviewer, observer, and co-participant. Partly due to some of the previously described skills and sensitivities, the various perspectives that these roles have generated have contributed to richer insights that I wouldn’t have acquired if I had stayed in one role alone.

2.3.2 Participatory Exploratory Action Research Participatory Exploratory Action Research is a qualitative research methodology that seeks to generate meaning and understanding through a rich description. Participatory Exploratory Action Research is a way for a community to explore issues that matter to them, that impact them directly, and to do research about it. One of its main principles is that every person is the expert of his/her own experience, subsiding with the idea that every person is knowledgeable. Specific to Participatory Exploratory Action Research is that the ones conducting the research are also the subjects of the research; the opinions, ideas, observations, and experiences become the qualitative data that the researcher works with. In this case, participatory research is conducted directly with the immediately affected community. The aim is the reconstruction and transfer of their knowledge which goes hand in hand with a process of understanding and empowerment. In the majority of cases, these co-participants are marginalised groups whose views and voices are rarely heard. Normally, these groups have little opportunity to articulate, justify, and assert their interests. In this PhD I have worked with several marginalised groups that, for this reason, had an interest in participating in the research.

There are a large number of studies in Participatory Exploratory Action Research in which researchers and practitioners collaborate; the practitioners are either involved in the research or carry it out themselves with the support of other researchers. In this PhD, the activities have also been carried out with both students and fellow researchers.

Within a Participatory Exploratory Action Research framework, the research works with experiments (in workshop settings) as a qualitative method of inquiry to collect data, explore phenomena, and generate insights. The data that the research works with consist of participant data (generated with the self-designed map apps), field notes from observations, interviews, and participants documents (which comprise students’ field notes and students’ essays). To safeguard validity, the research makes use of a triangulation method.

Originally, triangulation is a term that is used in navigation where a location is determined by using the angles from two other/known points, but it was also introduced as technique into qualitative research by Norman Denzin in 1978 as a means to avoid potential bias arising from the use of a single method. Triangulation consists of combining multiple data sources and methods such as interviews, observations, and document analysis.

The idea behind it is that studies in qualitative research that use only one method are more vulnerable to errors linked to that particular method (e.g., loaded interview questions, biased or untrue responses) than research that uses multiple methods in which different types of data provide cross-data validity checks. Furthermore, triangulation develops a comprehensive understanding of phenomena (Patton, 1999). Denzin (2006) identifies four basic types of triangulation that contribute to verification and validation of qualitative analysis; (1) methods triangulation: this entails checking out the consistency of findings generated by different data collection methods; (2) triangulation of

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sources: this entails an examination of the consistency of different data sources within the same method; (3) analyst or investigator triangulation: this entails using multiple analysts to review findings; and (4) theory or perspective triangulation: this entails using multiple perspectives or theories to interpret the data (ibid).

Through triangulating of methods, I seek to compare and cross-check the consistency of the methods I use. This entails, amongst others, comparing knowledge that is generated through interviews or observations and data that is generated through the use of map apps. Furthermore, I triangulate sources, with which I seek to compare and cross-check the consistency of the sources. This entails comparing observational data with interview data, comparing own field notes with participants field notes and essays, comparing what people say in public with what they say or write to me in private, checking for the consistency of what people say about the same thing over time, comparing the perspectives of participants in different workshops, etc. Michael Quinn Patton (1990) contends that triangulation of sources within qualitative methods will seldom lead to a single, totally consistent picture. This should not be regarded as a problem as the point is to study and understand when and why there are differences. The fact that observational data produces different results than data that is achieved through the use of the map app does not mean that either or both kinds of data are invalid, it rather means that different kinds of data have captured different aspects of a phenomenon, and that an attempt should be made to understand the reasons for the differences. The aim of triangulating methods and sources in my PhD is not to seek comparisons, but to come to a thick description.

The term thick description was first introduced by philosopher Gilbert Ryle’s in 1949.

In an adaptation of his work, anthropologist Clifford Geertz (1973) characterised it as a way of doing ethnography. Since then, the term has gained importance in the social sciences, but also more recently in design research, where it is especially relevant as design research often works with qualitative data. Thick description not only deals with describing and observing (usually human behaviour) but also puts emphasis on the context in which a behaviour occurs. It includes voices, feelings, actions and meanings (Ponterotto, 2006). The example most commonly used to explain thick description comes from Ryle who argued that if someone winks with his eye without including a context, we do not know what it means. Geertz, therefore, argues that thick description requires researchers not only to describe an action, but to also interpret that action.

Denzin (2006) outlines features that a thick description should include, such as: Who is involved? What led to this? What is the context? What is happening? What are the meanings and relationships? In this dissertation, I also include those features. Where in the descriptive section I describe the context and the actants involved, I go more in depth on this context and the relations between the actants in the analytical section, while in the interpretive section I seek to understand its meaning.

2.3.3 Case study methodology and the map app as research method While the earlier presented theories help me inform my research practice, it is through a case study methodology that I gain concrete, context dependent knowledge which enables me to make some critical points in the earlier presented theoretical debates.

The qualitative inquiry of the case study methodology that I use, is in line with Bent

Flyvbjerg’s understanding of case study research. In his article ‘Five Misunderstandings About Case-Study Research’, Flyvbjerg (2006) debunks the conventional view of case-study as a scientific research method and describes why this is problematic. The first of the five misunderstandings he describes has to do with the fact that “general theoretical (context-independent) knowledge is more valuable than concrete, practical (context-dependent) knowledge. It can therefore be revised as follows: Predictive theories and universals cannot be found in the study of human affairs. Concrete, context-dependent knowledge is therefore more valuable than the vain search for predictive theories and universals” (p. 224). Relevant for the RtD approach of this doctoral research — where societal issues are at the core of the study— is to acquire concrete, practical and context-dependent knowledge where readers can make different interpretations. The goal of the case studies is to paint a full coloured picture that includes diverse stories and perspectives, where different conclusions can be drawn, thus allowing the study to be different things to different people.

Each case study involves a self-designed map app that I present as research method.

The apps are all designed for specific situations and participatory events with which they can be seen as contextually designed tools.30 The aim of the map app is to enable me to perform participatory research and to (better) examine my research questions.

Within each app, I examine the map app attributes and map app affordances for the way in which knowledge is acquired and transferred. The choice of set of attributes and affordances to work with is dependent on the research question and the context of the case study.

Where it concerns the creation of the apps, I work closely with a software engineer31 who is responsible for the part that involves coding. It should be understood that the research of this PhD was almost always performed in workshop sessions —for universities, design schools, conferences, exhibitions, etc— and that the apps were used as prototype tools to perform the research with. They were, furthermore, used for a certain amount of time and with participants who were informed about the shortcomings of the apps and/or briefed about their use.

A prerequisite for the map apps is that they all, where possible, make use of opensource software.32 The idea behind it is two-fold: On the one hand to minimise the use of software from cooperations as to not have a bias in my research that is on account of their business models. On the other hand, I want to make the app transferable, for future research. Using open-source software is a very deliberate choice with which I seek to implement conditions so as to make the designs more generative (rather than specific), and with which I seek to give the map apps more research value. However, 30 Manuela Aguirre, Natalia Agudelo, and Jonathan Romm (2017) distinguish between generic or readymade tools, template tools and contextually designed tools. “Readymade facilitation tools are material components used in participatory design activities that lack specificity and are typically off-the-shelf products—sticky notes, big paper rolls, permanent markers, whiteboards, and flipcharts. Design facilitators mainly use these tools either to plan and analyse events, or spontaneously during events.

Templated facilitation tools are also material components used in participatory design activities. Their predefined formats enable users to organise information in useful ways—business model canvases, service blueprints, or SWOT analyses, for example. Contextually designed facilitation tools are uniquely tailor-made activities—they are ultimate particulars that pay careful attention to the holistic orchestration of participants in time and space.” (p. 203) 31 His name is Iván Fuciños Calle. He is also my partner.

32 My apps use open source software but are not currently published as open source software. However, they can be made available open source if, for example, another researcher wants to further develop the apps.

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the open-source software comes with an aesthetic and is not always user-friendly. For participants to actually use the apps, there has to be a certain degree of user-friendliness. There are moments that I had to make compromises, for instance, in choosing hardware that is not open-source but more user-friendly (such as working with apple iPhones), or in the use of a browser that is not optimal when it comes to data protection, but that is better equipped to detect GPS localisation (such as Google chrome). I am fully aware of the implications of these choices. The compromises that I had to make were necessary, so that I could stay focused on my research questions. I am also aware of my privileged position as research scholar who is able to use tools or knowledge that might not be accessible to all. My PhD does not tap into questions of the digital divide or data literacy; including those issues would have made my research question too broad.

Furthermore, an implication I wanted to avoid was to become involved as educator in data-literacy in the presentation and use of the map apps. Therefore, my research focus is elsewhere, but with a deliberate, conscious, and (where possible) critical approach to the use of hardware and software.

Throughout the PhD, I have aimed to find a balance between designing tools that serve my research purpose but not spending too much time on perfecting the design from a usability perspective as that would have required a different approach, another budget, and a much longer trajectory. As explained earlier, I use a RtD approach to understand phenomena or to generate insights that concern the research topics/questions.

Thus, my aim is not to create apps that are well designed —for instance, by looking at aspects of UI (user interface) and UX (user experience) design— as that would entail applying a Research for Design approach. The designs of the apps could be improved considerably to meet such requirements, but for this PhD the focus area is different.

What is relevant to point out though, is the impact that the use of certain hardware — especially at the early stage of the PhD when participants mostly used the map apps on their own mobile devices— had on my role as design-researcher. I often had to deal with technical issues during workshop sessions where the map apps were used. Participants could reach me via a chat that was created for his purpose. As problems often had to be solved on the spot, I would channel the problems to the software engineer and communicate the updates between the different parties. Here, my role tended to change from facilitator to mediator. I experienced these moments as extremely stressful as participants (sometimes twenty or more) would write to me all at the same time and each with their own technical issues/complications. Halfway the PhD trajectory, I started working with an intern who was able to take some of this high workload off during the workshop sessions. From this moment on, I was able to take a more distant approach to the materiality of my doctorate. This enabled me to step more into the role of ethnographer. In this role, I was able to write my observations on the use of the apps as research tools, for instance, by observing how others interacted with the tools and with each other via the tools. My role changed from mediator to ethnographer and sometimes to that of co-participant.

Although the technical issues with the apps at the beginning of my PhD sometimes withheld me from taking the role of ethnographer, taking on different roles in general is what made the research specific for the (design research) field in which the PhD is situated and unique in comparison to research in other domains. In the first place, working with self-designed tools enabled me to do something with the affordances of those

tools and their effect/affect on the acquisition and transfer of knowledge. It enabled me to design and purpose those affordances specifically for the research question that I had for a particular case study and improve the design of the tool from this perspective (what I describe in some of the chapters as iterations). Using contextually designed tools has, furthermore, enabled me to speak to different publics or have very specific kinds of publics participate in my research (in the analytical section of this book I describe how this is achieved through certain design choices in the apps).

Lastly, it should be mentioned that designing in and for public spaces brings many challenges such as safety, feasibility, privacy, and ethical considerations. Although these issues are addressed in some of the chapters, these are not the topics of my PhD, and therefore, I won’t elaborate on those issues unless they are relevant to mention for my research questions.

In the following section, I discuss the analytical framework of this doctorate. First. I explain the four chosen map attributes ‘legend, frame, time, and navigation’ that I use to draw relations between the case studies. Afterwards —building on the previously described notion of affordances and my expansion on these— I present the four chosen affordances ‘co-creating, inter-facing, playing, and performing.’ I will explain how to read each of these words in light of the research questions, and how these affordances are, furthermore, used in the interpretive section of this book where I discuss the contribution to knowledge.

2.4 Analytical framework In order to enable a relevant comparison between the case studies, I make use of an analytical framework. The framework consists of map attributes (that I chose to apply as analytical lenses) and affordances (that I chose to apply as a reflection on the effects and affects that the different map apps produce). Furthermore, in the interpretive reflection, I link the affordances to how knowledge is acquired and transferred for the domains that this PhD serves. The analytical framework that I use for the different levels of reflection forms part of the research methodology. In continuation I elaborate on the choice of words for this framework.

2.4.1 Map app attributes as analytical lenses: frame, legend, time, navigation The coming of age of digital technologies has caused a profound conceptual and material transformation within cartography as a field and as a discipline. Where in printed/ analogue maps the cartographer (or his/her commissioner) is the one to define attributes such as the frame, the legend, the scale, and the orientation of the map, digital maps on screens have paved the way for map users to influence how these attributes are chosen, designed, and played out while in use and while being mobile. Examples of this co-authorship are to be found in the way map-users can slide between scales through zooming in and out, and in the way map-users can adjust the map’s frame through hovering over the map and/or through walking with a map app. Similarly, the map’s attributes ‘frame, legend, scale, and orientation’ can nowadays be customised to individual needs or interests, or as a means to appropriate maps for self-expression or 51

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to make certain claims with.

Initially, I chose to use as analytical lenses the four classic map attributes ‘frame, legend, scale, and orientation’.33 While writing the analytical section of this dissertation and using those lenses, I came to the realisation that a shift had to be made in the attributes ‘scale’ and ‘orientation’, by moving ‘scale’ to ‘time’ and ‘orientation’ to ‘navigation’. This proposed shift has to do with the fact that those attributes are more proper to digital mapping, and enable me to demonstrate the added value of digital properties in cartography - with the previous attributes I was not able to surface those potentials enough with which these lenses were less productive for my analysis.

The relationship between the four chosen analytical lenses ‘frame, legend, time, and navigation’ is that they are all proper to digital mapping, and that these attributes enable relevant interactions with the digital map. As explained in the previous chapter, each case study responds to one of the research questions, and therefore makes use of different lenses to strengthen the analysis. In continuation, I explain how I came to these categorisations.

The choice of frame implies decisions about what to include/exclude, and what to place at the centre or at the periphery. In printed/analogue maps these considerations are made by the cartographer prior to the moment in which the map readers use the map. These choices are not completely innocent or free of bias as the frame will have an impact on the way the map readers view the world and the way they interact with it. Something seemingly simple as a choice of what to place at the centre of the map can have enormous political ramifications ‘on the ground’. With the coming of age of digital technologies, however, the cartographer does not make this choice a priori as (s)he depends on how the user interacts with the map. The cartographer is, therefore, faced with a different set of questions. For instance, what are the consequences of the continuously changing frame for one’s relation to public space? And even more importantly for this PhD, what are the implications of the changing frame for the collective experience of the city and collaborative practices within it? As digital mapping practices often come about on mobile devices, the notion of a frame that changes with the users’ mobility is a relatively new feature, and its ramifications tend to remain unscrutinised in cartographic practice.

When it comes to the map attribute legend, a defining step of a map is the annotation of its categories (often represented as a legend). Traditionally, the words that comprise those categories are determined by the cartographer(s) (or his/her commissioner), after which data-sets are assigned to those categories. The process of data collection can be done either by the cartographer(s) or in conjunction with participants, through, for example, public participation geographic information system (PPGIS).34 In my search for 33 David Hamers (my supervisor in the TRADERS project) introduced the map attributes ‘scale, frame and legend’ as defining features for maps, in June 2015 in his lecture for Performative Mapping training-week at Design Academy Eindhoven. The training-week formed part of a European research programme TRADERS and was organised by myself.

34 The term public participation geographic information system (PPGIS) was coined in 1996 at the meetings of the National Center for Geographic Information and Analysis. A PPGIS is meant to bring the academic practices of Geography Information System (GIS) and mapping to the level of citizens in order to promote knowledge production by local and non-governmental groups. The idea behind PPGIS is empowerment and inclusion of marginalised groups who have little voice in the public arena. Through geographic technology education and participation, PPGIS uses and produces digital maps, amongst others, to change geographic involvement and awareness on a local level.

participatory mapping practices, many examples were found where co-authorship is sought for in data gathering or in the phase where the categories can be customised by the map users. Most of these examples are to be found in crowdsourcing tools that use mapping and/or geo-located data, such as Public participatory GIS (PPGIS) and Voluntary Geographic Information (VGI), to receive citizens’ input. This is often purposed at urban planning, scientific studies, problem notifications, or projects that for other reasons are interested in involving citizens in data collection. Also, professionals (such as governments, municipalities, and corporations) are increasingly interested in citizen participation when it comes to data-collection. Research has proven that the benefits of involving people in data-collection or using citizen data goes hand in hand with a feelings of empowerment.35 Therefore, many of such projects are coupled with a claim that involving citizens in data-collection will have increased civic engagement as a result.36 In an interview with Ruurd Priester —a research fellow at Hogeschool van Amsterdam who has performed research on the use of data dashboards for citizens and municipalities— I learned that governments and municipalities are more cautious in involving citizens in questions about what and how data is to be collected. Priester’s research suggests that it is based on questions of what data must be considered legitimate or ‘valid’. Furthermore, according to Priester, the retrieved data is often only for professionals (to take action) (R. Priester, personal communication, 15 January 2016). Therefore, no relevant examples could be found of participatory approaches in the definition and discussion of the categorisations. I want to discuss precisely this aspect, stating that it is in questions of classification and categorisation (the map’s legend), where the empowering and participatory potentials for digital mapping lie. In the case studies in the analytical section of this book, I further explain how digital mapping —more than analogue map-making— has the potential to incorporate participation in the choice of the words for the legend, and more importantly, in the meaning that citizens/users subscribe to those words.

I contend that it is in the discussion about the chosen categories where meaning is assigned to them. Co-creating those categories or discussing the different meanings that can be assigned to them is an aspect of cartography that is to be considered equally important as other aspects of map-making if we want to understand the empowering potentials of the map’s legend. I could barely find examples of other design research projects where the categories/the legend were examined from this perspective.37 Hence, by creating the conditions for users to co-create the categories38 (afforded by the digital attributes), this doctoral research takes a special positioning. In some of the case studies

35 An example of empowering the local community was done in the Map Kibera project (n.d). A team of cartographers worked with the residents of Kibera, Kenya to map their city in 2008. Before this project, the city’s area was a blank space on Google Maps noted with only the label of “Kibera”. This mapping added significantly more detail on Google Maps for the residents and others, and helped to improve infrastructure for vulnerable groups in the city (for instance, by placing street lightning or police posts at places that local women had mapped as places where they were systematically violated).

36 Projects that are initiated by the Smart Citizens Lab in Amsterdam or Smart Citizen Project in Barcelona, for example, are based on the ideology that digital tools (for instance, the smart citizen kit) with which citizens can collect data (for instance, about air pollution) will empower those citizens or increase civic engagement.

37 A distinction should be made between the initial phase of my PhD in which I did not find any examples and the completion phase of my doctorate in which I found some examples, e.g. the example described in “Roosen et al (2020) Dialectical design dialogues: negotiating ethics in participatory planning by a critical design to build Atlas.”.

38 There are also some interesting experiments in Indigenous Cartography where this is done but in these examples the digital component is not examined in the same way that I look at the affordances of the digital.

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presented in this dissertation, the mapping even revolves solely around the collective definition and interpretation of the words through dialogue and embodied interaction with the digital map. Performing the map in these cases is all about conveying the different meanings that a word can hold, and what this entails for the practice of cartography, and for the three different fields/domains that this PhD research serves.

When it comes to the map attribute scale, we can say that this defining feature is what makes the map legible. After all, “if maps looked exactly like their subject, they would be utterly worthless and absolutely redundant as they would be nothing other than the ground we walk on.” (Sullivan, 2011, p. 85). This idea has inspired many writers such as Lewis Carroll (2015), who, in his 1894 tale of Sylvie and Bruno Concluded, wrote a story about the map that was equal to its landmass, or Jorge Luis Borges (1998) who wrote a short story about an empire in which the art of cartography was so perfect and detailed that when unfolded, the perfectly complete 1:1 paper map covered the entire kingdom. Digital maps, in their capacity for high resolution and real time detail, surpass even Borges’s imagination. Such maps can produce what are in effect real time simulations of the physical world. Digital maps can give us information about where traffic is congested or which street corners are the most polluted. However, applying some kind of scale is imperative if we want to make the map legible. Similar to the map’s frame, the choice of scale will always obscure some realities and highlight others. As Jeremy W. Crampton (2004) contends, the practice of mapping as a production of knowledge and the map’s spatial reconfiguration is a political project.

There is, however, a crucial difference between printed/analogue maps and digital ones when it comes to the attribute of scale. Where in printed/analogue maps the scale remains unchanged and is represented in the same way for all its readers/users, the scale in digital maps can be adjusted to personal needs and wishes. As a consequence, zooming in or out (with which the map’s scale is altered) and one’s pre-configured preferences will determine what categories of the map’s legend ‘appear’ or ‘disappear’ at each level of zoom. What considerations have been made to highlight some features and others not at a certain level of zoom, and who is involved in those decisions are, therefore, political questions.

From the perspective of scale, the digital map is in essence nothing but a stack of maps layered on top of one another. However, what is brought into relation within each level of zoom is indeed a deliberate choice. To give an example of a personal experiment: In the case of Google Maps, I will see STBY (a Service Design firm in Amsterdam) prior to seeing the public library of the city. As a matter of fact, I have to go one more level of zoom to see the library and other public buildings visualised on my map. As I have visited the firm earlier (while I haven’t yet visited the library) my map possibly demonstrates this place first while someone else using the same mapping service might see a different kind of Amsterdam at each level of zoom; a map that is based on his/her pre-configurations and preferences. An implication for using this mapping service, is that people will have the tendency to go to similar places or meet like-minded people as the map with which they navigate the city is reduced to their preferences and pre-configurations. This development is not completely innocent, taking into consideration that most people today, by default, attain to Google maps for navigation or as a means to look up recommendations of places to go to, without an awareness of the underlying mechanisms that steer their (navigational) behaviour.

The relevant question to ask is who is involved in decisions of visibility and in what ways.

Furthermore, what does it entail to ‘appear’ in certain maps? In the case of Google, what is displayed or not (or better put, what becomes visible at certain levels of zoom) has everything to do with Google’s algorithms which, in its turn, is attuned to Google’s business model. From the perspective of this doctoral research, it would have been relevant to seek for more equitable mechanisms in the choice of visibility. Although this PhD did not examine conditions or mechanisms to co-create the categories that appear when the map’s scale changes, it did examine participatory aspects relevant to this attribute by incorporating the feature of time.

As stated earlier, the kind of reality that is portrayed in digital maps through the attribute of scale, is dependent on what is prioritised and what is brought into relation (what is placed under a similar category of the legend) at each level of zoom. I have briefly explained what ramifications this could have if these choices are left to companies such as Google. We can contend that the attribute of scale in digital maps comprises a relational practice that takes place on both micro and macro level. Where printed/analogue maps work with the attribute of scale as relational practice, I contend that digital maps present the attribute of time as a new opportunity to work with. What level of hierarchy/ importance a place should be given in relation to a category of the legend can in digital maps be expressed through time? For example, if the cartographer wants to highlight a certain place in relation to a category, it is not done through applying a certain level of zoom (which would be the case with printed/analogue maps), but rather through the use of time; the time that the map user has to spend in a certain place in order to unlock a certain category of the digital map, for instance, to convey certain stories in relation to certain places.

The power of the attribute of scale in printed/analogue maps lies in the fact that certain categories of the legend can be brought into relation. This relational practice loses its conveying power in participatory digital mapping where users can slide between scales.

It is here that the attribute of time —afforded by the digital map interface— becomes more directive and important as a relational practice between places in the city, and categories of the map’s legend.

When it comes to the map attribute orientation, we can say that digital maps have contributed to a radical change in our way of orienting ourselves towards our surrounding. Where printed/analogue maps are oriented towards the poles of the earth, digital maps demonstrate the maps orientation in conjunction with one’s position in space, similar to the way the maps frame is altered when in mobility. Instead of turning the map towards the poles of the earth, the map’s orientation turns with YOU. That is, if the user is interested in having the map turn with his/her movements. What is important here is that users in digital maps have the ability to change settings in how they want to see the map and have a say in what it will do. Different to the frame —where the mapped area changes with one’s position in space— in the physical world, north always remains north, and south always remains south. In digital maps, visualising the south as being situated north from us might have a disorientating effect, and even free us from certain biases that come with regarding places that we are accustomed to, as always seeing positioned south from us.39 39 Although digital mapping has the potential to change ingrained perspectives through its design, the bias that comes with

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This doctoral research is not concerned with how a map orients towards the poles of the earth, but rather with an orientation towards other people with which it seeks to use this attribute as a means to address societal issues; the ability to orient to ‘the other’; other people’s experiences of the city, other ideas, and other perspectives, this way responding to the earlier explained problematisation of the public domain. Furthermore, I contend that digital cartography has the potential to orient people towards many different directions and sometimes towards different directions at the same time. Orientation towards this goal might leave the map user stumbling, confused or even lost. I contend that such experience is a precondition to reconnect (and reorientate) with the city and with other people in it. To describe this experience, I prefer to use the term navigation considering that orientation has a connotation of positioning oneself in space while navigation has a connotation of seeking to expand one’s perspective. I contend that, similar to time, this kind of navigation is enabled by the digital map interface with which it demonstrates new venues of how to create and perform maps, differently than printed/analogue maps afford.

2.4.2 Map app affordances: co-creating, inter-facing, playing, performing In this doctoral research I work with the following map app affordances: co-creating, inter-facing, playing, and performing. While the map apps that I work with have many more affordances, I focus on these four as they are relevant to my research questions and allow for relevant comparisons between the self-designed map apps.

Co-creating in this PhD is an affordance that is directly linked to the notion of empowerment. By enabling others to co-create aspects of the map, they are given agency with which empowerment can be a direct product of co-creation. However, who is empowered and in what ways differs per case and depends on the question that the case study examined and the fields/domains that it serves.

In the case studies where I seek to make a societal contribution, I am especially interested in empowering disadvantaged communities, through enabling those communities to participate in the debate of what is to be considered a matter of concern. In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to research, I demonstrate how co-creation in certain aspects of map-making (for instance, in the definition of the categories) is potentially more interesting from a participatory research perspective than

map projection is still available in digital maps as web mapping applications of today use a version of the Mercator projection known as the Web Mercator. I will give a brief explanation of what the Mercator projection is. Gerardus Mercator was a Flemish cartographer who came up with a system to map the world in 1569 to aid navigation along colonial trade routes. By drawing straight lines across the oceans an exaggeration of the whole northern hemisphere was made. His depiction made North America and Europe bigger than South America and Africa. He also placed western Europe in the middle of his map.

Mercator’s distortions affect continents as well as nations. For example, South America is made to look about the same size as Europe, when in fact it is almost twice as large, and Greenland looks roughly the size of Africa when it is actually about 14 times smaller. Due to its common usage, the Mercator had and continues to have a great influence on people’s view of the world.

By making countries near the equator appear smaller than those of Europe or North America, it caused people to consider those countries as less important. Thus, what the Mercator projection does is that it exaggerates the northern and southern regions making North America and Europe look bigger than South America and South Africa. Ironically, the biases formed from the Mercator projection are increasingly abandoned by printed/analogue maps such as atlases and school textbooks but remain present in digital maps. The ArcGIS platform ESRI recommends cartographers to re-project their source data to the Web Mercator coordinate system as doing so will ensure that their map data is located correctly and aligns properly with other services such as popular content providers Microsoft® Bing™ Maps, Google Maps™, and ESRI® ArcGISSM Online, who all have standardised their services on the Web Mercator coordinate system.

other aspects of map-making (such as that of data-collection). In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to education, I demonstrate how co-creation in mapping can afford collective learning. In the last two domains, I point to the ability (affordance) to co-define map attributes —such as the maps categories (the legend) or the frame— and make the case that it is predominantly on account of digital mapping that these affordances are surfaced. As a consequence, the role of the cartographer has changed considerably, delineating the need to design conditions on which users/map readers can determine what the map will look like and/or what it communicates.

Inter-facing, in this doctoral research, refers to how different perceptions of public space and differing perspectives on public issues can be mediated and confronted with each other through the map interface. The focus here is not on the interface as noun but on inter-facing as a verb.

In the case studies where I seek to make a societal contribution, I am especially interested in inter-facing as an incentive for civic engagement. In this quest, the objective of inter-facing in the map is to confront and negotiate differing perspectives, not as a means to find a compromise but as a means to create openings for dialogue. In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to research, inter-facing is presented as a practice that enables to juxtapose differing theories or to juxtapose theory with practice. In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to education, inter-facing is presented as a practice where the physical and the virtual continuously inform each other through embodied interaction.

Play, in this doctoral research, is operationalised as an affordance to experience and conceptualise physical and virtual game space anew. Play has been described extensively in a variety of fields such as HCI, psychology, child development, and game design.

In this doctoral research, I specifically focus on the ability to play that is afforded by the digital map interface. Participants continuously move between physical and virtual game space with the idea to (re)examine spatial theories. For this end, physical urban space and elements within it are approached in a playful manner and through interaction with other players who are in the same virtual game space.

In the case studies where I seek to make a societal contribution, I am interested in uses for map apps to create a feeling of being lost with which users are encouraged to reconnect with their environment. Through play, I seek to make users more conscious of how digital maps condition our way of navigating through and experiencing public space, and how playing with the map can cater new experiences. In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to research, I look at the value of digital mapping to make site specific knowledge approachable and/or experiential. In this quest, I am especially interested in how digital mapping can undo certain bias or preconceived ideas about places, for instance, ones that have been produced by traditional maps and/or constructs of space. The playful and collective approach that the digital map interface affords is especially relevant when doing field research. Jirí Pánek, Alex Gekker, Sam Hind, Jana Wendler, Chris Perkins, and Sybille Lammes (2017), furthermore, assign special importance to playful digital mapping in education setting due to its affordance for quick experimentation and forgiveness towards mistakes.

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Digital maps, through their slippery and layered user interfaces (Chesher 2012; Della Dora 2013) have affordances that engender certain types of uses (Gibson 1977; Gibson 1986; Ellis and Tucker 2000). We claim that one such affordance is the ability to play with the map, in a form of quick experimentation and forgiveness towards mistakes that are rare in other educational settings. In other words, maps – and digital maps in particular – can and should be used to educate people on a place through play. (p. 285)

I underscore this importance. In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to education, my focus lies on how playing the same digital map collectively while being in different places in the field can afford new learning experiences.

Performing, in this doctoral research, is conceptualised as an affordance to effect change in the world. In linguistics and philosophy, performativity is conceptualised as the power of language to effect change in the world, stating that language does not merely describe the world but may instead (also) create it, thus language functions as a form of social action (Claeys, 2007). Gender philosopher Judith Butler (1993) describes performativity as “the reiterative power of discourse to produce the phenomena that it regulates and constraints” (p. 2). Butler has largely used this concept in her analysis of gender development stating that gender is an ongoing and socially constructed process. The concept of performativity is, furthermore, often used in Science and Technology Studies (STS) where it proposes to shift form a representational idiom to a performative one. This proposed shift is also described in human geography as non-representational theories.

Non-representational theories refer to a diverse body of work that emerged during the 1990s, largely through the work of Nigel Thrift (2007), as an alternative approach to the conception, practice, and production of geographic knowledge (Simpson, 2017). The theory proposes that instead of studying and representing social relationships, the focus should be on practices and embodied experiences (Cadman, 2009). Non-representational theories, therefore, focus on performative “doings” (Dewsbury et al., 2002). This theory is relevant for my doctoral research as I also propose a performative approach to cartography. In the analytical section of this book, I demonstrate how I envision an embodied cartographic praxis that goes beyond (graphic) representations and includes temporal, and rhythmic dimensions.

Although cartography concerns the use, design, creation, and conceptualisation of maps, in western tradition, cartography has always been and continues to be a representational practice. When it comes to knowledge generation and knowledge transfer, this doctoral research problematises this conception and —as explained earlier— alludes to a performative turn in cartography where maps are studied as (interactive) performances and as products of co-creative relationships between maps and users. This approach counters the idea of maps as objective or reactionary representations of the world. I contend that the same way certain acts of speech reiterate power, a representational approach to cartography runs the risk of reiterating the status-quo of power-knowledge.40 Even the counter mappings of critical cartography —through their use of a same

40 Power-knowledge is a term that was coined by the French philosopher Michel Foucault. For Foucault, power and knowledge are not seen as independent entities but are inextricably related; knowledge is always an exercise of power and power always a function of knowledge. (Elden & Crampton, 2007)

representational idiom— fail to address this problem.41 Performative cartography, thus, sees maps as inherently open to use and embodied acts of mapping as transformative.

My aim, thus, is to shift the focal point of cartography from a representational idiom to a performative one, claiming that a performative account problematises old forms of knowledge transfer while proposing new more experiential forms.

In the case studies where I seek to make a societal contribution, I am inspired by Judith Butler’s notion of performativity to effect change in the world. The idea is that meaning is created in performativity (in my case in the way the map is read/performed) and that maps are continuously (re)made and transformed in their reading. I borrow the term from linguistics and philosophy and seek for a similar purpose only I use it in a different context. Performing the map requires an activation of the reader/user with which, in its turn, the user is able to construct new publics. In performing the map and making an issue public this way, the PhD serves a societal purpose.

In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to research, I am especially interested in how knowledge is constructed collectively while in mobility and what mapping in motion can contribute to participatory research. Mimi Sheller and John Urry (2006) state that a new mobility paradigm has been taking place within social sciences over the last two decades with increasingly more projects seeking to bring mobility into the research agenda, for instance, in the examination of ‘everyday’ practices and people’s lived experiences (Hein et al., 2008). As a design researcher who is interested in mobility, I don’t just focus on speech or narration but include or combine these formats with gestures, actions, and movements of the people who participate in my research. The focal point of mobile methods is to re-centre “the corporal body as an affective vehicle through which we sense place and movement, and construct emotional geographies.”

(Sheller & Urry 2006, p. 216). In a similar vein, in the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to research, I look at what a performative approach in mobile mapping can contribute to ‘trading positions’ between participants.

In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to education, I conceptualise performing as a practice of collective meaning-making. Here, performativity correlates with a ‘thinking-through-doing’ approach, stemming from a shift in arts and humanities that problematises more traditional research training; one in which distanced observation is applied to produce knowledge about the world. In the performative approach, knowledge occurs as material process through (inter)actions (Barrett & Bolt, 2013) which is inspired by Jaques Ranciére’s (2011) idea of ‘the emancipated spectator’ in which he contends that knowledge is not something that someone possesses to impose on the other, for instance, a teacher on a pupil. Instead, knowledge is to be performed by all actors on equal ground and emerges through (inter)actions. In a similar vein, this doctoral research sets off from the idea that the participants in my case studies are all knowledgeable. I, therefore, examine how a performative approach can elicit knowledge or enable a more experiential approach to knowledge transfer.

41 Here, I would like to point to Joost Grootens’s (2021) critique on the work of many amateur conflict map-makers in their positivist approach of the map as being ontologically secure. Similar to Grootens, I contend that critical cartography´s focus should be more on questioning the ontological basis of the map and that critique should lie more in the formats used.

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2.5 Visual synthesis As explained in the introduction, a visual synthesis is presented throughout the dissertation. The process of creating and adapting this synthesis was carried out in parallel with writing and continuously contributed to the reflection. Each diagram, map, and matrix in the book is linked to an analysis layer which I will explain in the following section but first, I briefly explain the choice for the book design.

With this book I make a reference to the classic ANWB road book, a book that every person in the Netherlands used to carry in his/her car. The heavy book contains approximately 1000 pages with detailed road maps of the Netherlands and Europe while the size of the book is adapted to fit in the compartment in front of the passenger’s side. I have always had a personal fascination for the design of this book and the way in which the highly detailed maps are integrated in it. With the digitisation of maps and the use of mobile devices, the ANWB road book has become obsolete.

By choosing the same size and using similar references in the book design, I wanted to pay tribute to the old craft of map-making while presenting the opportunities that digital mapping has given us. Similar to the ANWB road book, in my book design, actions have to be performed by the reader to access specific layers of information, such as extending parts of the book, folding out pages, overlaying an item over another item, etc.. To be able to see specific things the reader has to take certain actions. Both in the book design as well as in my apps, the activation of the reader is a prerequisite to engage with knowledge embedded in the map. In continuation I explain the visual elements that I incorporate in the book and how they aid my reflection on the apps.

2.5.1 Levels of reflection: descriptive, analytical, interpretive Reflection in this dissertation comprises three levels: descriptive, analytical, and interpretive. These levels are visually delimited in the book in colour-tones that are administered to the page numbers. The colour-tones range from light orange which is the descriptive section (see left square in Figure 2.4), to slightly darker orange which is the analytical section (see middle square in Figure 2.4), and to dark orange which is the interpretive section (see right square in Figure 2.4). This way, the reader can have a quick overview of what pages/parts of the book correspond to each level of reflection.

Figure 2.4 Depiction of colour tones that are used throughout the book. Each colour represents a different level of reflection.

These are used to make the distinction between the descriptive, analytical and interpretative section of the book.

Firstly, the objects of reflection that I work with (which I refer to as actants) are laid out.

This level of reflection is presented as the descriptive layer of the PhD which corresponds to the ‘people, spaces, tools, data’ section within each case study. Secondly, I analyse these actants by looking at how they relate to and interact with one another.

This level or reflection is presented as the analytical layer which corresponds to the case

studies in chapters 3, 4, and 5 (excluding the ‘people, spaces, tools, data’ section). Lastly, I look at how knowledge is acquired and transferred within each case study which I refer to as the interpretive layer, which corresponds to chapter 6.

In order to structure the reflection on the eight case studies, an analytical framework is used. In the analytical reflection (chapters 3, 4, and 5) I use attributes as analytical lenses and affordances to look at the uses of the map apps for specific purposes, while in the interpretive reflection (chapter 6) I use the affordances to interpret the case studies for their contribution to knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer to the three domains that this PhD serves. Apart from this analytical framework, in both the analytical as well as the interpretive reflection I use theories to make sense of the research practice. What theories are used depends on the level of reflection (analytical or interpretive) and the field(s)/domain(s) that each case study serves. While the theories help me inform my research practice, I make some critical points in theoretical debates as a means to strengthen the PhD’s main argument.

For example, when it comes to the analytical section and in the case studies of chapter 5, I reflect on how interactions with the digital map in both physical and virtual game space enable to re-examine spatial theories —amongst others of Henri Lefebvre and Michel de Certeau— that are still often used in the fields of design and architecture, and bring those into relation with new-media theories. Through the backdrop of the case studies that are presented in this chapter, these theories are re-conceptualised while the potentials of play, mobility, connectivity, and digital spatial media are discussed as a means to shed new light on those theories. An important aspect, here, is that the apps were mostly used in educational context. The apps served as research tool for the students to write auto-ethnographic essays about their experiences with the apps. In my reflection I draw on the students experiences that are described in those essays.

In continuation, I present the diagrams and matrix that I use throughout the book for the different levels of reflection, comprising; an actants diagram, an attribute-affordance diagram, and an action matrix.

2.5.2 Actants diagram in descriptive reflection For the descriptive section I make use of an actants diagram (see Figure 2.5) to indicate what actants are involved in each case study. The actants are categorised into three levels, from general (the inner circle) to more specific (the outer circle). There are of course many more actants in each case study than indicated in this circle diagram but these are the ones that are relevant for my approach/view on the cases and the topics that I examine. Furthermore, using the same diagram for all the case studies enables me to draw relations between the eight cases.

In each case study a chart is included. The idea is that the reader places this chart onto the actants diagram. In doing so, words that are relevant to the specific case study become visible whilst words that are not relevant are covered.

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Figure 2.5 Actants diagram for the eight case studies, going from general (inner circle) toward specific (outer circle).

Produced by author.

This circle diagram is not a statistic, predetermined framework, it has been further developed during the PhD in order to communicate the findings. An element can appear in different categories. In the following chapters it will become clear where/why an element belongs in two different categories. Furthermore, there can be an overlap between categories. This is necessary to identify different aspects of a case study, for example, where students are also teachers or where students are also players. I will continue to explain some of the actants of this diagram while also briefly discussing methodological issues, where necessary, that are linked to the relevant level of the actants in this diagram.

As for the category ‘people’ (see inner circle in Figure 2.5), a distinction is made between ‘research participants’ and ‘public’ (see middle circle in Figure 2.5). The research participants are considered the groups of people that the research specifically addresses, having those groups directly participate in the (PAR) research and/or serving those groups with the outcome and knowledge that the research has generated. Although the kind of participants can be different per case study, I will often refer to the research participants as cartographers. The reason for this formulation is that I create conditions for others to participate in the mapping, and that the participants are eventually the ones to perform the mapping (thus, the cartographers). This applies to both map-making as well as map reading. In the latter, I side with Sybille Lammes where she states that users of digital maps no longer are merely readers of the map but, through their movements,

become co-producers of it. Lammes also refers to the map readers as ‘cartographers on tour’ (Lammes, 2013), a term that I will also use throughout the dissertation.

In the ‘research participants’ category I also mention ‘myself’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5). This is important for the qualitative research that I perform where my own experiences and field notes are also included as data. In the analytical section —where I analyse the different case studies (chapters 3, 4, and 5)— I, furthermore, elaborate on my changing roles in each case study, from co-participant to facilitator to mediator, to ethnographer, and how shifting roles is necessary for the kind of research that I perform. To demonstrate my different positions and roles I use an action matrix (which I will present later on).

Where the PhD research serves a societal purpose, it is concerned with mapping as a means to giving voice or sharing stories of marginalised groups. The two marginalised groups that I have worked with are ‘undocumented migrants’ and ‘(invisible) makers’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5). My interest lies in making these groups participate in the public domain either through making their voices heard and/or by making their presence visible. How this is achieved is described in each of the case studies in chapter 3, a chapter that focuses on mapping and civic engagement .

Where the PhD research serves education, its participants are ‘students’ and/or ‘teachers’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5). In the map apps that were designed with the purpose to enable new learning experiences, a distinction is made between ‘physical space’ and ‘virtual space’ (see middle circle in Figure 2.5). The interaction between the physical and virtual is best examined by conceptualising ‘players’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5) as being in physical game space while their ‘avatars’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5) are in virtual game space.

The ‘public’ (see middle circle in Figure 2.5) is considered the groups of people who initially do not participate or who do not participate directly, but who affect the mapping or are affected by the mapping in some way or another. To give an example, ‘passers-by’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5) are not direct participants but they might become interested or even participate at some point due to certain actions or behaviours that workshop participants demonstrate while performing the mapping.42 This is also the case with ‘exhibition visitors’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5). As the map apps were often presented at ‘venues’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5), these kind of publics were invited to engage in the mapping in diverse ways. ‘Non-players’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5) refers to research participants who initially are players of a map app but at some point, are disqualified, and therefore convert into the public. ‘Exhibition visitors’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5) appear under both ‘research participants’ and ‘public’, this is to indicate where exhibition visitors take a more active (as participating researchers) or passive (as observers) role.

As for the category ‘tools’ (see inner circle in Figure 2.5), I contend that all elements involved in the creation of a certain technology or practice has an action potential

42 This is also referred to as the honeypot effect, a term that is often used in the study of Human-Computer-Interaction (HCI). The effect describes how people interacting with a system passively passers-by to observe, approach and engage in an interaction (Wouters et al., 2016).

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(especially when things don’t work the way they were intended, the action potential of a certain technology becomes strikingly apparent). Therefore, the technologies in the actants map comprise both ‘(physical) objects’ as well as ‘(invisible) infrastructures’, ‘software’, etc. (see middle circle in Figure 2.5).

All case studies in this doctoral research make use of ‘self-designed apps’ that build on or use ‘open-source software’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5). Earlier in this chapter I have explained why this is an important aspect for the transferability of my doctorate.

In some of the case studies I also make use of built-in apps (see outer circle in Figure 2.5), such as the compass app, the camera app, the audio recording app, and the text messaging app.43 The ‘GPS tracks app’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5) —that is used in Co-creating Reality, the first case study presented in chapter 4— is not an app that is built in the mobile phone by default, and therefore, it is mentioned separately. The ‘mobile phone’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5) is listed under both ‘objects’ and ‘hardware’.

The reason is that in some of the case studies the mobile phone as an object starts to become important.

As for the category ‘data’ (see inner circle in Figure 2.5), the participatory approach of this doctoral research involves participants who use the self-designed apps in data collection, which I refer to as ‘participant data’ (see middle circle in Figure 2.5). In the presented case studies, the qualitative methods that have been used should be differentiated from traditional scientific research methods, first and foremost, because I work with contextually designed tools. Secondly, a big part of this PhD research is precisely about the examination of those methods in the field of design research. In the interpretive section of the dissertation, it is explained what differentiates the research from scientific approaches in the way data is collected, processed, and interpreted; the way knowledge is generated and transferred; and the role of design therein.

In some cases, qualitative data is combined with quantitative data with which a mixed methods approach is used. The benefit of a mixed methods approach is that combining quantitative data with personal stories proves a better understanding of the problem than either trends or stories alone. In the interpretive section (chapter 6) I further explain what the value of this approach is in the context of this PhD research. In doing so I look at the role that the different inscriptions of the ‘participant data’ (GPS, text, image, audio, video) in those case studies play in the acquisition of knowledge.

As for the category ‘spaces’ (see inner circle in Figure 2.5), I distinguish between ‘physical space’, ‘virtual space’, and ‘institutional space’ (see middle circle in Figure 2.5). This distinction between the physical and the virtual is crucial for the PhD’s main argument in that the two are inextricably intertwined, and that digital map attributes enable an examination of the way in which these spheres relate to and alter one another, and how through certain proposed actions these spheres can be experienced or conceptualised anew. The ‘digital map’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5) is therefore conceptualised as virtual space that is able to influence physical space through certain actions. The reason that I add institutional space has to do with the fact that some of the apps are used within an educational context.

43 As all presented cases use the built-in browser app, the choice was made to not mention this feature as a separate category in the tools > built-in-apps section of the visualisations.

When it comes to the category ‘physical space’ (see middle circle in Figure 2.5), I distinguish between ‘streets’, ‘places’, and ‘venues’ (see outer circle in Figure 2.5). Streets are seen as infrastructure, and places are seen as spaces to be/stay, such as a square. Venues are also conceptualised as spaces to be/stay but these are often linked to a certain program with which venues can be seen as private or semi-public while ‘places’ are always public.

Other actants that I have not described here will be explained in chapters 3, 4 or 5 where I see relevance to re-introduce the diagram in my analysis of the case study.

2.5.3 Attributes-Affordances diagram in analytical reflection In the analytical section of the book, I use a framework to reflect on the eight case

studies. This framework consists of attributes (the analytical lenses) and affordances.

In my analysis I often link an affordance to one or more attributes. The framework enables me to draw relations between the different cases. The choice for these attributes and affordances has been explained earlier. Figure 2.6 indicates which case studies apply which attributes and affordances.

Figure 2.6 Diagram of the attributes and affordances that comprise the analytical framework. This framework is used to reflect on the eight case studies. Produced by author.

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2.5.4 Associative map in analytical reflection Each attribute and affordance of a case study and the domain that a case study serves, has its own graphic representation, materialised as an associative map. This map is to be found at the last page of every case study in this book. The legend/bookmark should be consulted in order to be able to read this representation. The base-map represents the city where the case study was performed. The domains are visualised as areas covering parts of the base-map. These areas can have different associations linked to them (for instance, they can be associated with administrative layers on the map, air pollution particles, etc). On top of this, the affordances and attributes are visualised (only the ones that are relevant for the specific case study). The affordances are represented as shapes (when placed together forming a pattern, such as building blocks or mountain ranges) and the attributes are represented as lines (rivers, railways, borders). Sometimes an affordance is linked to an attribute (such as co-creating the legend). Visualising the affordances and attributes this way enables me to create an associative map of each case study and make linkages between affordances and attributes, for instance, demonstrating where intersections between affordances and attributes take place or where they stay separated.

2.5.5 Action matrix in analytical reflection In a short concluding paragraph of each case study, I briefly explore what the map app can mean for the domain(s) that the case study serves. Here, I make use of an action matrix. This matrix was initially created by Ester van de Wiel and Joost Adriaanse (2019) for RE-Source —a design research project that maps urban residual flows, so that they can then be used as a source for circular thinking, doing and learning— as a means to situate the different researchers and their roles involved in the project. The x-axis of the matrix was later slightly adapted by Ginette Verstraete, Joost Adriaanse, Ester van de Wiel, and David Hamers (2021). The matrix (see Figure 2.7) helps me situate the designed object (what it aims for) in relation to my changing role(s) and positions within each case study.

Figure 2.7

Note: This action matrix is used throughout the book to indicate my changing positions and roles within each case study. Reprinted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

When it comes to the y-axis, van de Wiel et al. (2019) conceptualise ‘thing’ not as object but as an entity with action potential. Where the mobile phone in my case studies could be seen as object, the self-designed map app on this mobile phone becomes a ‘thing’ that is able to connect people, places, ideas, etc. The digital map interface as ‘thing’ enables people to move between the physical and virtual, but the digital map itself always represents spatial data and is, this way, linked to physical places. The case studies of this PhD are, therefore, always situated between ‘thing’ and ‘place’ on the y-axis of this matrix. Consequently, the y-axis will not be visualised in the next chapters so as to focus on the x-axis.

When it comes to the x-axis, Verstraete et al. (2021) distinguish between four practices/ phases within design research, being; observing, imagining, engaging, and intervening.

In the phase of ‘observing’ the design researcher tries to apprehend a situation through looking and listening, which often (in design) goes hand-in-hand with imagining. Both observing and imagining “involve a type of sense-based apprehension, but imagining is a more deliberate step towards expressing, visualising, and recreating what is apprehended” (p.12). The writers distinguish between the two only for analytical purposes.

Engaging on the x-axis is more hands-on and implies sensory involvement. “Engaging involves a type of mutual transformation, an opening up vis-à-vis others and oneself.

Ideally it brings about a willingness to re-examine one’s own practice” (ibid). Intervening then seeks to create disruption, sometimes necessary to change one’s mind-set. “Ideally intervening provokes structural change [the word at the far right of the x-axis] and leads to lasting innovations in the long run” (ibid). My positioning on this axis depends on the specificities (participants involved, aim of the app, etc) of each case study. When working with disadvantaged communities, for example, the map apps tend to be more on the right spectrum of the x-axis (engaging and intervening) while when working in educational context my map apps tend to be more in the middle.

Using the action matrix to indicate the changing positioning and aims of my map apps is relevant for the kind or research that I perform, as it demonstrates the necessity to adapt roles and positions within a case study in order to surface the knowledge relevant for the specific situation.

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3. DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING AND SOCIETY In the previous chapter, I have laid out the theories and methodology of this PhD. The following three chapters comprise a descriptive and analytical reflection on the eight case studies and ten self-designed map apps. In the first section of each sub-chapter, the descriptive reflection is presented (the ‘people, spaces, tools, data’ section) while the following sections comprise an analytical reflection on the case study. Here, a framework is applied to enable a structural comparison between the case studies. This framework consists of attributes (frame, legend, time, and navigation) that are used as analytical lenses and affordances (co-creating, inter-facing, playing, and performing). Lastly, in a closing paragraph, I shortly explore what the case study can bring to the domain(s) that the case study serves.

In this particular chapter, I examine the potentials of Digital Performative Mapping as a means to engage people in public space and/or public issues. Two apps (Mapping Invisibility and Mapping Invisible Makers) are presented where different perspectives on public (space) issues are juxtaposed. The eventual aim is to discover the potentials of those apps as a means to civic engagement.

Using the analytical lenses that were explained in chapter 2, the attributes legend, time and navigation are examined in case study Mapping Invisibility, together with the affordances co-creating, inter-facing, and performing (see Figure 3.1). In Mapping Invisible Makers, the attribute legend and the corresponding affordances co-creating and interfacing are examined (see Figure 3.2).

Figure 3.1 (left) & Figure 3.2 (right) On the left, attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study Mapping Invisibility. On the right, attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study Mapping Invisible Makers. Produced by author.

In the last section of both case studies, I conclude my analysis by looking at the research positioning of each case study —for which I use an action matrix— and shorty discuss the domains that the cases seek to make a contribution to.

3.1 Mapping Invisibility A case on inter-facing between citizens and undocumented migrants44

Figure 3.3 (part 1) Actants in the case study Mapping Invisibility. Overlay frame of Figure 3.3 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 3.3 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Mapping Invisibility. Produced by author.

3.1.1 People, spaces, tools, data With a predicted 200 million people who may be forced to flee their homelands by the year 2050 (O’Rourke, 2013, p. 179), being stateless might become a future scenario for many. In this line of thought, the workshop Mapping Invisibility was conducted in Amsterdam in collaboration with Platform Scenography and Wereldhuis Amsterdam.

The workshop formed part of the program Out of State, which took place at Frascati theatre from 19th to 23rd of January 2015. This program brought together researchers, artists, architects, and writers to engage with, and reflect upon the condition of the estimated 15.000 undocumented migrants residing in Amsterdam in 2015.

44 Parts of this chapter are derived from two other publications (see bibliography) where a reflection on this workshop is done.

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For the workshop Mapping Invisibility, a number of undocumented migrants (see People > Research participants > Undocumented migrants in Figure 3.3) were invited to take part in a collective mapping together with other participants (see People > Research participants > Local residents in Figure 3.3) of the program. This workshop was designed with the following question in mind: what are the hiding strategies of undocumented migrants in the public spaces of the city? The workshop’s aim was to investigate the everyday practice of undocumented migrants and to look for ways to make parts of that practice visible and perceptible for others, precisely because much of the life of the undocumented is about invisibility.

A four-hour walk was structured by a legend that was set up as follows: a week prior to the mapping, participants of this workshop had been sent an email with the request to name the feelings that they thought undocumented migrants in their city experience when walking through the public spaces of Amsterdam. The idea was to have the participants observe public space from the perspective of the undocumented. The participants most chosen words became the map’s legend in the Mapping Invisibility app (see Tools > Software > Self-designed app in Figure 3.3), being; stressed, powerful, happy, and disconnected.

On the day of the workshop, the undocumented migrants were coupled with project participants; the undocumented were assigned the role of hosts/guides and the participants the role of guests (see Figure 3.4). The undocumented guided their guests to places in the city with the predefined emotions in mind. Due to the fact that this workshop had to take place in one day, the choice was made to work with ‘only’ four emotions. One hour was reserved for each emotion, with which the mapping had a total duration of four hours. Changing from one word of the legend to another happened at a fixed time (that was defined prior to starting the walk) and by all cartographers simultaneously.

Every time a change to a new feeling would take place, the walked trajectory on the map (see Spaces > Virtual space > Digital map in Figure 3.3) changed its colour (see Figure 3.5). The longer the cartographers would stay on a certain location, the thicker the line (see Data > Participant data > GPS inscription in Figure 3.3) on the map would be visualised, this way emphasizing the importance of a place (see Spaces > Physical space > Places in figure 3.3) or street (see Spaces > Physical space > Streets in Figure 3.3) in conjunction with the mapped emotion.

Figure 3.4 Photo of an undocumented migrant guiding a participant through ’his’ city. Produced by workshop participant.

Figure 3.5 Screenshots of the map of Amsterdam that was updated in real time and projected in the theatre venue Frascati while the mapping workshop Mapping Invisibility took place. The map visualises the walked tracks (GPS inscription) and corresponding intensity of feelings (thickness of the GPS inscription) experienced by the participants.

On the left the feeling ‘happy’ (red line) was mapped collectively, followed by ‘powerful’ (blue line), followed by ‘disconnected’ (magenta line), followed by ‘stressed’ (green line). Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 1, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/outofstate/reality

While the cartographers were walking and the web app traced the cartographers’ footsteps (see Figure 3.5), the app also enabled the cartographer-duo45 to take pictures (see Data > Participant data > Image file in Figure 3.3) with their mobile phone’s camera (see Tools > Software > Built-in apps in Figure 3.3) of items or places that trigger the emotion in question. The pictures were able to demonstrate if the cartographers —who were in different locations in the city— were triggered by the same items or if there were subjective triggers to certain emotions. The map with GPS tracks and images were projected on a screen at Frascati theatre (see Spaces > Physical space > Venues in Figure 3.3) and updated in real time.

The dialogue between host and guest was, furthermore, recorded along each GPS track (see Tools > Infrastructure > Geo-technology in Figure 3.3); a dialogue discussing the emotion in relation to the places the cartographers were passing by. The audio recordings (see Data > Participant data > Audio file in Figure 3.3) were stored in the form of a location-based archive so that after the day of the workshop the stories/testimonies/ memories and/or impressions could become available to the public, the public being anyone interested in the stories of the undocumented. In this case, it is not the undocumented himself, but an audio-track of the dialogue that is followed.

People who are interested, can align with an undocumented through (literally) following his/her footsteps. The invisible storylines (see Figure 3.6) can be picked up at any time by going to the departure point and by downloading the track as an mp3 on one’s mobile phone (see Tools > Hardware > Mobile phone in Figure 3.3), only on the point of departure is the downloading enabled. When the listener starts moving, the track will play, and the story (the dialogue between the cartographer-duo) is revealed. If the listener wanders off the original track, the sound fades out (see Tools > Hardware > Earphones in Figure 3.3) and (s)he will have to search the track back by moving with his/her body.

It is only by being physically present on the exact same location and through aligning with the undocumented that the story unfolds. Furthermore, for the story to be played, the listener has to follow the same pace of walking as the cartographer-duo. The way of moving through public space by the listener can potentially create new publics (see People > Public > Passers-by in Figure 3.3) as we will see later in this chapter.

45 “Duo” usually refers to a pair of artists, musicians or comics. Cartographer-duo is a word that I created with which I refer to two cartographers working together.

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Figure 3.6 A screenshot of the Mapping Invisibility app interface with the various audio tracks that could be selected and downloaded by the public. Only by being present at the departure point of where the dialogue had started can the audio be downloaded. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 1, 2020, from https:// performativemapping.net/outofstate/story

This workshop resulted in a topographic map of the emotional landscape of the city, highlighting places where emotions accumulate or intensify. This growing map was presented (see Tools > Hardware > Projector in Figure 3.3) at Frascati Theatre (see Spaces > Physical space > Venues in Figure 3.3). It was updated in real time (see Tools > Infrastructure > Mobile internet connection in Figure 3.3) while the mapping took place in the city, this way, serving as a conversation piece for the people who were present at the theatre venue at the time (see People > Public > Exhibition visitors in Figure 3.3).

Furthermore, the workshop resulted in an archive of photos that gives insight into the collective or subjective triggers of certain emotions. These were projected simultaneously next to the map in the theatre venue.

The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework46, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 3.3) and Leaflet JavaScript library.

The people who participated in this case study were Anne Karin ten Bosch and Sigrid Merx (as curators of Platform Scenography)47, 15 undocumented migrants, 10 project participants, myself (as designer of the app and as workshop facilitator), and Iván Fuciños Calle (the developer of the app).

46 Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://laravel.com 47 Platform-Scenography (P-S) is an analogue and digital network from, and for, scenographers exploring the scenographic way of working and thinking. Scenography originates from the field of theatre concerned with stage design. However, scenography also includes the design of a TV or movie set, a gaming environment, a trade fair exhibition design or a museum experience exhibition design. The curators of Platform Scenography (Sigrid Merx and Anne Karin ten Bosch) have invited me to work with them on the program Out of State for which I designed this map app. The workshop was performed in collaboration with them and in collaboration with Frascati theatre in Amsterdam.

3.1.2 Co-creating to probe the legend in the walk Although the guests had co-created a legend prior to the day of the workshop, it was in the dialogue with the undocumented on the day of the workshop that the guests could evaluate preconceived ideas about the chosen words. They could, for instance, check to what extent the selected feelings matched the feelings that the undocumented experienced in their daily life, and how these words are interpreted in their context and culture. By discussing issues such as these, participants could probe the map’s legend during the mapping; a legend that was not a given in the first place, but a legend that was constructed together with the participants. Throughout the workshop, the words of the map’s categories were debated. They functioned as a meeting point between the participants and the undocumented. In this mapping, the participants were able to learn about the diverse perceptions and uses of public spaces of the undocumented and in the dialogue, the words that were chosen for the emotions were problematised and further discussed by the cartographer-duos. Actually, changes to the selected emotions were suggested by the cartographer-duos. The fact that the legend was continuously problematised, discussed, and revised by the cartographer-duos can be seen as a form of co-creation between guide and guest.

To illustrate: a number of hiding strategies were discovered in the walk, such as lingering in the library or pretending to be waiting for a train. An interesting example of a hiding strategy was discussed in the vicinity of central station —which in this case involved an item rather than a place. It was described by one of the undocumented as follows: the man mentioned to make sure he always carried a plastic bag, as if he was going grocery shopping. He had discovered that people were looking at him differently if he walked around empty-handed (in his experience he felt as if people thought he was out to steal something from them). Carrying this item made him feel more self-confident (workshop participant, personal communication, January 16, 2015). Furthermore, it became apparent that certain places and routes would be avoided collectively, such as streets with cameras installed. Paradoxically, these places became ‘visible’ because they remained unmapped.

When it comes to examples of feelings that were associated to places rather than items, central station was defined as ‘happy’, at least that was the place that some of the undocumented guided their guests to when this emotion was being mapped. The reason that this place was labelled as such had to do with the fact that the undocumented contended that this place carried no expectations regarding how they should behave. As a matter of fact, they could stay there as long as they wanted and as long as they were just pretending to be waiting for a train (see Figure 3.7). Another example is an undocumented who felt ‘powerless’ when passing by Dam Square (see Figure 3.8). He identified himself with the figure of Atlas on the palace. He said that he was “fighting against a system” that made him feel like he was carrying the world on his shoulders the same way Atlas does.

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Figure 3.7 (left) and Figure 3.8 (right) On the left a picture of two undocumented migrants who explain the special resemblance Central Station has for them. On the right a picture of an undocumented who explains how he identifies himself with the figure of Atlas on Dam Square. In this workshop the undocumented migrants stay anonymous unless they express otherwise. Mufti Ababujey was an undocumented participant from Nigeria who wanted to be mentioned by name. He also wanted to be visible. Produced by workshop participant. Retrieved December 1, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/outofstate/story

The result of the collectively performed cartographies (the GPS inscriptions on the digital map and the pictures of the cartographer-duos) were projected in real time on screens in a theatre venue serving as conversation piece for the people who were present at the theatre at the time that the workshop took place. The pictures are important if we want to learn about the differing perceptions of the undocumented - how places in the city or items in it could be the trigger for certain feelings. For example, one undocumented associated a land surveyor’s tool seen on the street with feeling ‘powerless’. The gauging rod reminded the man of his desire to work, and the fact that it was unmanned made the feeling even stronger (see left picture in Figure 3.9). Another undocumented associated the market on Waterlooplein with feeling ‘powerless’ (see right picture in Figure 3.9). As this undocumented man used to have a market stall in his home country and was not able to have one here (due to not possessing the right papers and the more formal way in which markets are organised in the Netherlands) it triggered a sense of powerlessness within him. These are very subjective associations. Other items, distinctively, triggered a same emotion in a collective manner. Pedestrian crossings, for example, raised the level of stress in the whole group (see Figure 3.10), as I understood later, because of a higher chance of being caught by police there.

Figure 3.9 Pictures taken by a cartographer-duo when the emotion ‘powerless’ was mapped in mapping session Mapping Invisibility. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 3.10 Pictures that were uploaded simultaneously by different cartographer-duos when the feeling stress was mapped in mapping session Mapping Invisibility. Produced by workshop participants.

Co-creating as affordance is clearly materialised in the construction of the map’s legend (where the participants were able to define the map’s categories) as well as in the way that the categories are further-on probed during the walk (where the participants were able to discuss the words of the legend). This had an empowering effect.

As explained in chapter 2, co-creation in this doctoral research is directly intertwined with empowerment. However, co-creation here is not aimed at empowering a specific group by having them participate in the design of the app. Traditionally, co-creation is a practice in which people participate in the design or improvement of a product or service that is aimed at a certain user group. In this process, design skills are important as the design researcher plays a pivotal role in the development of the tools to perform the research with. In my PhD research, the focus in not on improving on designs or services for a specific user group, but rather on the design of tools and experiences that enable me to (better) examine my research questions while providing those participants with a platform to speak. Co-creation is, therefore, not purposed for the improvement of a design, but as a method to perform my research with alongside participants, while seeking to empower those participants

3.1.3 Navigation as empowering vantage point Another way in which this case study explores potentials for empowerment is the way in which undocumented migrants were labelled as the hosts and the participants as their guests. As a consequence, the navigation was steered by the undocumented. What I had not foreseen beforehand is how important the object of navigation is in contributing to a feeling of empowerment. I came to this realisation on the day of the workshop where something interesting happened.

Prior to staring the walk, —while I was explaining the Mapping Invisibility app to the workshop participants— I directed my attention to the guests assuming that their smartphones would be used for the mapping. While going through the instructions, I found that only a few of the participating guests (who happened to be mostly artists) actually carried a smartphone that they were familiar with, or that they were able to adjust the settings so that the app could be used on it. After a chaotic morning session in which only few participants were able to do this, some of the guides (the undocumented migrants) in the room took a mobile phone out of their pockets and started using the app. Where in the beginning my attention went out to the guests to explain the functionality of the app, it was soon geared towards the guides. Consequently, at the end of

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the session most of the undocumented were the ones with the tool in their hands (see Figure 3.11). For this reason, the mobile phone, in this case study, is not only represented as hardware, but also as object in the actants diagram of this case study (see Tools > Objects > Mobile phone in Figure 3.3).

Figure 3.11 Photos that demonstrate the shift from explaining the tool to the participants to explaining it to the undocumented. Produced by Mufti Ababujey, (one of the participating undocumented workshop members and photographer of this workshop. Ababujey used to be a professional photographer in his hometown Lagos).

Reflecting on my role as facilitator, I was able to conclude that I had preconceived ideas about the undocumented migrants use of technology (which was, as it turned out, much more advanced than that of the participants). I, furthermore, discovered that holding the tool in one’s hand is in itself a powerful statement. The empowering potentials of the mobile phone as object was something that I had not considered in the design of the app, but it was a piece of insight that I had gained during this session. It is for this reason that the mobile phone is not only presented as hardware in the actants diagram (see Figure 3.3) but also as object, aiming to emphasize its potentials as such.

3.1.4 Time as attribute to distinguish between the individual and the collective With GPS inscription in this case study, the temporal dimension is included. The attribute ‘time’ could be used as a feature by the cartographer-duos to express the intensity of an emotion in relation to a place. The time that a cartographer-duo would stay at a certain place would translate into the thickness of the GPS inscription on the digital map. The longer the cartographer-duo would stay on a specific site, the thicker the line would become. This is relevant if we want to learn about individual responses of the undocumented regarding certain places or items. For example, when the emotion ‘disconnected’ was mapped, some undocumented had a clear place in mind to go to and would stay there for a period of time to discuss on site how this feeling was triggered there (in which case the GPS inscription on the map would get thicker until it

would turn into a big dot), while other undocumented migrants felt it to be a continuous mood that they experienced, and therefore, kept walking (leaving a thin and dispersed line on the collective map). In the way that the attribute of time was incorporated in the GPS inscription enabled the cartographer-duos to communicate how much intensity a certain place should be getting when it comes to certain feelings.

An interesting example of how the attribute of GPS inscription was appropriated by a cartographer-duo in a slightly different manner is to be observed in the mapping of Dam Square (see Figure 3.12). In this case, the undocumented migrant wanted to emphasise the anxiety that he associates with this place, but instead of standing still and spending time there to mark a big dot on the map, the cartographer-duo decided to criss-cross the square for the duration of an hour while they were discussing the emotion ‘stress’.

What is interesting here is the way in which they appropriated the feature in a rather different way. As explained earlier, when standing still at a certain location for a longer period of time, the line becomes thicker until it tuns into a dot, but in their case the dot comprised a tangle of lines. What was mentioned by the cartographer-duo after the workshop, is that they preferred to walk the square obsessively instead of standing still with which they could better express the feeling of stress also through their way of moving (A. Kouwenhoven, personal communication, January 16, 2015).

Figure 3.12 On the left a screenshot of the map as it was updated in real time including the four emotions. In the middle of this map, we can see that Dam Square (where the pink dot is) is mapped as feeling ‘stressed’. On the right, a zoom-in of this map on where Dam Square is. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 1, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/outofstate/reality

Another way in which the attribute of time —combined with navigation— is incorporated in this case study, is in the way that knowledge is conveyed in the way in which the map is read. If the story listener walks too fast or in the ‘wrong’ direction, the audio fades out. Taking time to listen to the story and doing so in an embodied way is a prerequisite to engage with the undocumented perspective. Thus, public space becomes an archive of personal stories that can be unleashed if one —carrying the right equipment (a mobile phone and a pair of earphones)— seeks to engage through synchronising in direction and pace of walking.

3.1.5 Performing as a way of aligning In order to explain how I use navigation as a mobile method in this particular case study, and how I relate this method to performing as affordance of the app, I make use of a

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schematic overview of Mapping Invisibility in which three time-frames are presented (see Figure 3.13).

Figure 3.13 Three time-frames of Mapping Invisibility. Produced by author.

The first time-frame represents the undocumented daily practices. This is the data that the undocumented migrants draw from to discuss the emotions with the participant in the second time-frame. Performing, in this case study, starts in this second time-frame.

In this phase, the words that were assigned to the legend were a point of departure to initiate a dialogue between the guide and the guest. However, it is in the dialogue and through navigating (moving in a certain direction) that those words began to possess meaning and take new directions. At the same time —via the GPS inscriptions and pictures that were uploaded in real time— the undocumented migrants were able to share their stories with a new public. Through the data that was sent to the theatre venue, the guides could tell their stories and indirectly steer the debate that was taking place in the theatre.

The third time-frame is the moment that the audio archives are made available to interested public. Here, the stories can be picked up in public space by being present at the same point of departure, downloading the mp3 track while aligning and synching with the undocumented migrant. In this time-frame, the undocumented migrants’ potential for participation is somewhat more latent but nonetheless far-reaching. It lies in the way that the stories are unleashed by the interested public. As one is guided by the storyline, the listener’s way of walking with its particular movements become visible to others in public space; the urban passers-by (indicated as People > Public > Passers-by in Figure 3.3).

For instance, a story is told about a specific situation where —on the day that the story refers to— a bike was parked. However, nothing is to be found there at the moment that it is listened to. Urban passers-by might become curious as to why someone stands still

at a specific location while staring at a concrete wall.48 These audio archives make the stories available. However, it is through performing them (by the listeners) that they are made public. The listener/walker now becomes an inter-face between hidden stories and potentially new listeners. Here, the body as a performing dispositif is added to the previously introduced voice, archive, and mobile phone.

Furthermore, aligning and synchronising with the undocumented in the third timeframe produces a number of effects. One of those is uncertainty regarding what is coming next. The undocumented migrants voice on your mobile phone is, in this case, the navigational device. In what direction this voice is taking you is not clearly outlined and has to be probed with one’s body and through moving in public space. It is only by going into the same direction and following the same pace as the undocumented that the story unfolds. This experience was described as unsettling by some of the participants. The uncomfortable feeling of accidentally stepping into the wrong direction with which the audio is lost is in consonance with a daily recurrent experience of the undocumented migrant —who is always seeking to stay invisible— that I (as designer of the interface) had sought to convey in the third time-frame.

This is beautifully illustrated in a fragment that comes from a log of a participant who re-enacted an audio-track49 that was created by an undocumented a year earlier: Navigating the grey area, I finally arrive at the police station. I align the blue ring with the red circle till I get the audio playing. An African accent recounts a story. I look at the huge logo sculpture protruding from the building, a few police vans and cars are parked around the building and a floating platform for bikes. The man had been feeling insecure and hopeless, as I learned later in the audio. He had been locking his bike on this very platform. The man continues with his story. Two police officers approach him and ask him about the bike. Does he have papers for it? They ask him. The two women, who he tells this story to, ask him in a surprised tone “Do you even need to have papers for a bike? The two officers detain the man, bring him to the station and verify that the bike is not missing or stolen. He is absolved from this one, but he has no papers for himself. Next thing he knows, he tells the two women, he is in prison for a good deal of six months. He is smiling, which surprises the women, and he is probably looking at the building without really intending to.

The building with those vertically obtruding concrete rods is damping an aura of indifference for the man. “I may smile but inside, that is, inside my head, it aches”, he remarks. I am trying to stay aligned with the red dot on the screen. It seems that it moves around a little bit.

Arash Ghajarjazi, 2016

With this fragment we can observe how, in re-enacting the story, the different timeframes of Figure 3.10 become blurred in the experience of the listener/performer. We have, furthermore, seen that ‘navigation’ carries many layers in this case study, and that in the third time-frame the navigation device is a combination of original narrator/guide, file 48 Niels Wouters (2016) refers to this as the honeypot effect, a term that is often used in the study of Human-Computer-Interaction (HCI). The effect describes how people interacting with a system passively stimulate passers-by to observe, approach and engage in an interaction.

49 The audio-track is of an undocumented who describes his feeling of powerlessness that he associated with a certain location.

In this case the place reminds him of an impactful event that had happened a couple of years earlier.

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as audio archive, and mobile phone. This complexity is necessary to create the intended effect of uncertainty, and it demonstrates the added value of this design research that is at the intersection of the physical, technological, and sociopolitical. The different acting, narrating, and listening people, in this case study, can be considered gearwheels in a complex performance that encompasses different forms and levels of empowerment.

3.1.6 Inter-facing between the public and the private The affordance ‘inter-facing’ in this case study is designed on various levels and for different purposes. In the first place, inter-facing took place between guides (the undocumented) and guests (the participants) in the dialogue that they had. In the second place, inter-facing took place in the theatre as the map was updated in real time (the second time-frame of Figure 3.13). As a public debate could emerge around the evolving map, the undocumented had the ability to (indirectly) participate in this debate via the map interface. Without jeopardising their fragile position (the undocumented could choose to stay anonymous) they were able to communicate their feelings and experiences of places in the city via the channels offered to him. The map interface, in this respect, enabled the undocumented to participate in the public domain, a sphere that they otherwise would not have access to that easily due to their ‘illegal’ status. This is a form of inter-facing between the public and private domain (in this case involving an ‘illegal’ status) with which this case serves a societal purpose. In the third place, inter-facing took place in the third time-frame (see Figure 3.13) between the public that was involved in the reading of the map (through aligning and synchronising with the undocumented) and the public that was present in the public spaces in the city (the passers-by) at the moment that the stories were re-enacted.

To demonstrate how the affordance inter-facing was designed in the app for this specific group, I will give an example of a different setting —a workshop that was performed a year later than the workshop with the undocumented men— in which this same app was used, but where it had a completely different outcome. In this second workshop, the app was used with undocumented women as guides.50 I will not go into detail about this workshop as it was a case in itself. What is interesting to shortly mention though, is that this workshop turned out to be much more problematic. The reason that I organised a workshop specifically for undocumented women had to do with the fact that I had noticed that in the first workshop only men would participate with which I realised that I knew very little about the lived experiences of the undocumented women as they were less inclined to talk during my previous visits to Wereldhuis. As a design researcher, I was interested in this particular group, but it was harder for me to connect with them, partly due to a language barrier. What became clear in this workshop though, is that I had not done my ‘homework’ to have the tool speak to this particular community which, as it turned out, resulted in various problems.

In this workshop, the guides (who were undocumented women) did not talk as much as the undocumented men. In some instances, it was even the case that the guests started taking over the conversation out of discomfort. The women indicated that they felt uncomfortable being in the spotlight during interviews by male participants while the male participants felt uneasy asking the women questions. Also, while in the workshop,

50 More about this case study can be found via this blog: https://performativemapping.net/invisibility

it was identified that the locations mapped were much more peripheral, in contrast to the other workshops where it was noticed that the undocumented (men) tended to visit more centric places, such as monuments or important institutions of the city. A possible explanation for the difficulties in the dialogues in this second workshop could be assigned to the more vulnerable position of women in public space and especially within certain cultures. Obviously, more research would need to be done to make any claims as to determine if this is the case and why. These workshops were only performed on a small scale and only in two settings, but it could be an interesting follow-up question to examine. There are also many more interesting potential affordances to explore in the design of the mapping interface to speak more to this group. For example, the dynamic of being in a dialogue did not work that well with the undocumented women.

Directly walking in public space might have been too confronting, and maybe other steps needed to be taken prior to going outside. As a design researcher, in this particular workshop, I failed to explore those potentials because I did not engage with this group the same way as I did with the undocumented men. Consequently, the app did not afford the same level of inter-facing with this group as with the undocumented men.

3.1.7 Positioning and contributions In this case study, working with undocumented migrants, my role is often intertwined with activism. I seek to empower the undocumented by giving them a channel through which they can tell their stories. This channel is, partly, the map interface that is designed in such way that it comprises various affordances to convey the stories that other channels are less capable of. In this last and concluding section I explore my (changing) roles and positions in light of the domains that the research of this case study serves. For this analysis I use the action matrix.

Mapping Invisibility involves storytelling. When it comes to telling other people’s stories, ethical considerations come into play, especially when working with a disadvantaged community such as undocumented migrants. First of all, taking into consideration the fragile position of the community, requires pre-research. In Mapping Invisibility, this pre-research involved building a relation with the undocumented to familiarise with the diverse community and know about their needs and wishes. With this pre-research, I could make informed decisions about the design of the interface to take those wishes and sensibilities into consideration.51 Then, in the design of the map interface, I seek to give the community a channel (one that they do not have themselves) to voice their stories.

However, how I relate to the voices of the communities that I work with, differs per case (as will become clearer in the next case study). In Mapping Invisibility, the undocumented stories are channeled via audio in combination with GPS inscription for which one has to be in public space in the same position as where the undocumented were. The choice to use audio as a navigational attribute is to enable a more embodied way of conveying the narratives that I consider relevant for the kind of stories that are told.

In the action matrix in Figure 3.14, I have indicated that the initial position of this case study moves between ‘observing’, ‘imagining’, and ‘engaging’. The research participants were asked to imagine the city from the undocumented migrants’ perspective. Through

51 In chapter 2 I borrow the term ‘contextually designed tool’ from Aguirre et al. (2017) to describe this.

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assigning words to the legend, these participants engaged with the perspective of the undocumented but from their own frame of reference and with their own (preconceived) ideas. This practice, therefore, combines ‘observing’ (public space) with ‘imagining’. At the same time, the pre-research that I had done, also combines the two practices of observing and imagining. The line then moves from ‘engaging’ to ‘intervening’.

Engaging took place in the workshop, in the dialogue between participant and undocumented migrant. It was in the walks, that the participants were able to engage with the undocumented and probe their ideas of the legend. In the next paragraphs, I explain the move to ‘intervening’ and couple it to the domains that this case study serves. I, furthermore, explain how I see ‘changing’ as the intended outcome of the attitudes/actions in this case study.

Figure 3.14

Note: Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Mapping Invisibility. Adapted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.108 0/2373566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

This case serves a societal domain as the undocumented are given a channel to voice their stories. Following the story line of the undocumented can be seen as a form of ‘intervening’ as the way in which they navigate does not follow existing conventions in public space. The eventual aim, however, is to produce a change in one’s perspective on this public issue. This change can take place in different phases of this case study.

Firstly, a change can take place gradually in the phase where the guides and the guests discuss the words of the legend. Secondly, a change can take place with the listener while heeding to the audio and navigating the storylines. The last phase where change can potentially happen is with new people in public space, through the listener in the way in which he/she constructs new publics. It is in these different phases where the case study seeks to ‘change’ preconceived ideas and perspectives on this public issue. It is in the described affordances of the map interface where the potentials of digital cartography lie to situate itself at the intersection of the physical, technological, and sociopolitical.

Another way in which this case study serves a societal purpose, is in the effects that this workshop has produced and in the relations it has built. Some undocumented migrants I had interviewed directly after the workshop mentioned that participating in this mapping has provided them with a platform to speak, one that they had not experienced in the same way earlier (A. Mufti, personal communication, January 16, 2015). This is illustrated in the second time-frame in Figure 3.12 as ‘anonymised undocumented migrants’. In this respect, the map interface enabled the migrants to project their worlds on those of others in the city, and it enabled them to engage in a discussion and confrontation about their presence and participation that, otherwise, they would

not have that easily.

In one case, an undocumented migrant mentioned that the workshop made him feel a bit angry, as it was only through the dialogue and through the long walk that he became conscious of the injustice that he was living on a daily basis (undocumented participant, personal communication, January 16, 2015). In their turn, the participants noted that the workshop had left quite an impact, some mentioning that the dialogue still resonated in their heads for some time long after the workshop concluded, as places in the city they cycle by are still permeated with the stories of the undocumented (various workshop participants, personal communication, January, 2015).

Another participant was especially interested in this workshop. As it turns out, he works with undocumented migrants on a daily basis at the immigration and naturalisation office. He mentioned that in this workshop he was able to experience the undocumented perspective and experiences in a more profound way than he is used to, when interviewing undocumented migrants. At the end of the workshop, he invited the undocumented he was paired with, to his house for a cup of coffee. He felt that the undocumented were in a more vulnerable position most of the time and wanted to give them something back. When asked what made this experience different than the interviews he holds with undocumented on a daily basis, he mentioned that the different setting and context (the long walk outside in the cold), the time that it took, and the design of the interface had been crucial elements and preconditions to encourage a different kind of interaction, one that contributed to a more profound understanding (A. Meeusen, personal communication, January 16, 2015).

Although this case study predominantly seeks to make a contribution to society, it also serves the domain of research. Prior to designing the map interface, I —as design researcher— had to understand the different perspectives and wishes of the participants so as to make informed decisions in the design of the interface. For example, we could see in the problems that occurred with the undocumented women that the affordance of inter-facing was specifically designed for this user group. Furthermore, the aim was to create an app and map interface in such way that the undocumented migrants would see a value in participating. To this end, I had visited Wereldhuis a number of times prior to the workshop so as to build a relation with the undocumented migrants.

In terms of ‘design thinking’ I engaged in the phase of empathising. With the knowledge that these visits provided me, I was able to make more informed decisions. One of them was to have the undocumented speak as I noticed that most of them were very eager to talk and had a lot to tell (this was very different with the women participants).

I also learned that their level of English was quite good with which the language would not be a barrier (this was also very different with the female participants). Furthermore, during my visits I learned that assigning words to emotions is highly complex due to the different cultural backgrounds of the undocumented. The words would, therefore, have to be a point of departure and not an end in itself. I also learned that the undocumented (although not able to work officially) often had many informal jobs and most of them had a filled agenda. I, therefore, could not take too much of their time by, for instance, planning interviews with them on different days after the workshop.

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3.2 Mapping Invisible Makers A case on inter-facing between formal and informal makers

Figure 3.15 (part 1) Actants in the case study Mapping Invisible Makers. Overlay frame of Figure 3.15 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 3.15 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Mapping Invisible Makers. Produced by author.

3.2.1 People, spaces, tools, data Many historic city centres in Europa are subject to a disproportionately growing tourism industry with an increasing number of products and services directed at this industry.

As a consequence, local artisans are often casted out or increasingly avoid setting up a business in certain parts of the city centre altogether. This case study forms part of a research project at Elisava School of Design and Engineering where the ‘maker community’ of the city is examined. The mapping was performed over two academic years, commencing September 2017. The project aims to place maker activities and places of production that are present in two neighbourhoods of Barcelona on the map.

At the same time, the brief for the project problematises the term ‘maker’, aiming for the participating students to examine with more scrutiny what acts of production within the city can be covered by this term.

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This case study looks at the ways in which the ‘maker community’ is defined and mapped by different stakeholders in the city of Barcelona. It then presents a mapping approach that seeks to voice the makers that are less visible or not labelled as such. The ‘maker community’ forms part of the so called ‘maker culture’, a contemporary (sub)culture that represents the DIY community, but with a more tech-oriented approach and often associated with hacker culture. The core idea of the maker culture is that learning happens through (re)making. The focus in this case study is on ‘invisible’ makers and with ‘invisible’ I refer to makers that remain undiscovered on the official maps of city branding.

For instance, instead of focusing on maker spaces such as Fab Labs (where the maker culture is often commemorated) and hacker events (that often tend to attract similar minded people) this case study seeks to broaden the scope of makers by looking at those that operate in a more informal setting and context.

Ciutat Vella is the historic city centre of Barcelona. The case study, here, is interested in highlighting maker activities and places of production (see Spaces > Physical space > Places in Figure 3.15) that are still present in this area with which it seeks to tell a different story. The map’s legend represented the kind of transformation that material(s) of a product or service undergo(es), the expertise needed to produce the product or service, the agents involved in its production, the network that the product or service generates, and its degree of business orientation.

In the case of the historically industrial neighbourhood Poblenou, the focus is on 22@, an area that has been designated by the municipal city branding as the so-called maker district of the city. 22@ is one of the most ambitious urban regeneration projects in the world. Initiated as a municipality project to transform the industrial Poblenou neighbourhood into a technological and knowledge-based hub, the so-called maker district today houses universities, research and training centres, startups and many hightech companies. Since this project was launched around the year 2000, it has been surrounded by much controversy. Especially local residents are critical about how these creative hubs and projects include and benefit the local communities. To comprehend this polemic, one has to understand that Barcelona has a long tradition in neighbourhood associations that are very active to date. The heritage of civic engagement and self-organisation makes it extra challenging for smart city projects and related initiatives to move forward. This case study sought to problematise the market-led opportunistic approach52 and use of this term mainly because the current maker movement in this area of the city tends to be centred around tech-savvy or data literate people and is often strongly male oriented. Focusing only on the tech-savvy community of makers runs the risk of excluding relevant local communities or other types of makers. As a consequence, the ‘other’ makers will have less of a say in decisions of urban regeneration that concern their presence and role in the area.53 The aim of this case study is twofold. On the one hand, I examine the methodological potentials of carto-ethnography for research purpose - a method that involves a self-designed map interface to enable exchange of knowledge across the physical and logistical

52 An example is Poblenou Maker District: Fem barri, one of the main projects of Barcelona, Digital City plan. Although the aim was to “foster an ecosystem for innovation and provide greater visibility for existing neighbourhood projects”, the focus has mainly been on tech-companies or tech-savvy makers. https://ajuntament.barcelona.cat/digital/en/blog/barcelona-positionspoblenou-at-the-centre-of-digital-social-innovation-and-the-maker-movement 53 A clear example where we can see this is the urban regeneration projects ‘super blocks ’.

limitations of a classroom. On the other hand, I seek to problematise the term ‘maker’ and broaden its scope (where the case study seeks to make a societal contribution). In order to understand why the research has embarked on this quest, we must first look at the context in which the project was initiated, namely Design for City Making (DxCM).

DxCM was three-year initiative (2017-2020) at Elisava Barcelona School of Design and Engineering to collaborate with the municipality and other stakeholders on city related issues.54 The research was performed at Elisava Barcelona School of Design and Engineering (see Spaces > Institutional space > University in Figure 3.15) by students (see People > Research participants > Students in Figure 3.15)55 and teachers (see People > Research participants > Teachers in Figure 3.15). Two districts in the city were examined and mapped: Sant Martí (more specifically Poblenou neighbourhood) which is the proclaimed maker district of the city, and Ciutat Vella which is the historic city centre. In both cases, the local context and the way in which local residents (see People > Research participants > Local residents in Figure 3.15) talk about the ‘maker community’ played a pivotal role in how ‘the makers’ are portrayed in the collectively constructed map. Therefore, for each district a different legend is co-created to determine what categories are relevant for the maker culture in that specific area of the city.

Prior to using the mapping tool, the students (approximately 80 from four different classes) had to walk through the neighbourhood for a couple of hours. They were requested to observe the area from the perspective of informal practices, and they would ask passers-by what they identify as makers in their neighbourhood. The students had to write down their observations (see Tools > Objects > Paper and Pencil in Figure 3.15) and take pictures with their mobile phones (see Tools > Objects > Mobile phone in Figure 3.15). After the walk, the students’ findings were brought together in the classroom, and in collaboration with the teachers a legend was formulated for the area that was walked. Now the students were divided into groups of four, each group focussing on a different category of the legend. The students were requested to research further into their category, so they went back to the area and interviewed local actors that are relevant for this category. As there were four classes, each category had four groups from different classes working on one category of the legend. Students from the 54 DxCM was a three-year research program at Elisava that commenced in October 2017. It was coordinated by, amongst others, Ezio Manzini (professor at Politecnico di Milano and the founder of DESIS, an international network on design for social innovation and sustainability.) The program seeks to create synergies between the university and partners who work on topics related to city-making and social innovation. The main objective of the university is to engage in city related problems and use the strategic central situation of the university. Emerging from meetings with local stakeholders of the city, in which needs were addressed, four lines of research were created for this program: 1) Design for social cohesion. These projects focus on the social fabric of the city. The aim is to build connections between different citizens such as locals, migrants, and tourists; 2) Design for a regeneration of the urban commons. Urban commons consist of places and/or activities where citizens can share time, goods, and knowledge to respond to municipal demands or social needs without being regulated by the state or the market. They can also be seen as social institutions that operate in a complementary way to the state and the market. Some examples are community gardening, urban farms, or cultural spaces. These projects focus on building bridges between physical spaces in the city and relevant local actors; 3) Design for urban production. These projects focus on spaces of production as a means to revive social capital. They seek to support and connect activities related to production in the city as means to enrich the urban ecosystem; 4) Design for urban infrastructure. These projects focus on creating an infrastructure for collaborative initiatives to emerge and thrive. They can be considered components of a new material and immaterial infrastructure for the city such as knowledge, products, places, and digital platforms. At Elisava, eight projects have been undertaken for these lines of research of which this case study was one, mostly for the third line of research but also touching upon the second line. For the purpose of my doctoral research, I will not go into detail as to how the project was worked out for the DxCM program, but I will look at what this project has contributed to the substantive line of argument of this PhD. 55 The app was, furthermore, used in Oslo (Norway) by Karianne Rygh (teacher) together with her students in the Co-design minor program from Utrecht University of Applied Sciences from the Netherlands.

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different classes could use the same map interface to collectively and simultaneously update data (derived from their interviews) into the map, with which they could share their findings via this interface.

The mapping interface works as follows: A project administrator (a teacher of the course in this case) goes to the following website: http://elisava.performativemapping.net/ (see Tools > Software > Self-designed apps in Figure 3.15).56 After selecting ‘projects’, a name is introduced for the new project, accompanied by a small description. Now words are introduced to form the legend, and for each word a colour code is assigned. Afterwards, the latitude and longitude coordinates are introduced to define the centre point for the map. Now the project is created, the students use a computer (see Tools > Hardware > Computer in Figure 3.15) and go to the same link. They select the project and can upload the following media formats to the map (see Spaces > Virtual space > Digital map in Figure 3.15), image (see Data > Participant data > Image in Figure 3.12), audio (see Data > Participant data > Audio in Figure 3.15) or video (see Data > Participant data > Video in Figure 3.15). With each uploaded media format, they have to introduce a small text (see Data > Participant data > Text inscription in Figure 3.15). The uploaded file/data point is now visualised as a dot on the map (see Figure 3.16). The colour of the dot indicates the category that it belongs to. Now students have the option to change the transparency of the dot. Now students have the option to change the transparency of the dot by using a sliding scale (see Figure 3.17). The more transparent the dot, the more informal the activity, while the more opaque dots indicate a more institutionalised activity. When scrolling over the dot its content is shown/played (see Figure 3.18).

Figure 3.16 (left) & Figure 3.17 (right) On the left a screenshot of the map interface. The colour of the dots indicate what categories (of the legend) are mapped. On the right a screenshot of the map interface with the sliding scale in which the dot could be assigned a level of transparency. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from http:// elisava.performativemapping.net/

Figure 3.18 Screenshots of map, demonstrating some examples of what is visualised when hovering over a dot on the map. On the left a video of the urban garden collective. In the middle and right videos of the Sardana dancers

56 The tool was designed specifically for this research and for this course at ELISAVA, but the tool is today also accessible to other teachers. Teachers at Elisava can start a new research project using this same mapping tool.

collective. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://elisava.performativemapping.net/uploads

The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 3.15) and Leaflet JavaScript library.

The people who participated in this case study are Danae Esparza (teacher), Toni Llacer (teacher), Marién Rios (teacher), approximately 120 students from the undergraduate course ‘Context i Usuari’ over the course of two academic years, interviewees (local experts and local makers of the districts Sant Martí and Ciutat Vella in Barcelona), myself (as designer of the map interface, as workshop facilitator, as teacher of the course, and as ethnographer), and Iván Fuciños Calle (as the developer of the map interface).

3.2.2 Co-creating the legend comprising invisible makers In all of the case studies in this PhD I use mobile methods, but in this particular case study, mobile methods were used only for the initial phase of the mapping, that is, in the construction of the legend. In the set-up and instructions of the workshop, the brief was explained with which the walkers entered the area with a certain bias, namely; an interest to find informal, local activities as opposed to formal businesses. Many students took pictures of guerrilla gardening activities (see Figure 3.19), scrap dealer spaces, artist studios, etc.; all activities and spaces that stood as a stark contrast with the high-tech businesses in the area like the Silicon Valley start-ups.

Figure 3.19 Pictures of guerrilla gardening activities that were taken by the students during the walk in Poblenou. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://elisava.performativemapping.net/uploads

In this phase of exploration, I was also involved in the project as research participant (see People > Research participants > Myself in Figure 3.15). One of the examples that I encountered of a maker (see People -> Research participants -> Makers in Figure 3.15) presented itself during my walk. I asked a woman who was dressed as a council worker doing the street bins collection, who in her opinion were the makers of the area, to which she eagerly replied: “I am a maker!” As it turned out, the woman not only collects garbage for a living but also makes art pieces out of the things she finds and selects. The woman immediately took a mobile phone out of her pocket to show me her creations (Figures 3.20 and 3.21). Afterwards, emails were exchanged to receive a higher resolution of the images and to plan an interview with her at a later stage (this interview was performed by the students). This encounter emphasises the importance of walking as a means to

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find the relevant aspects that need to be incorporated in the map’s legend, aspects that seek to include the actual lived experiences of the locals. After all, this particular maker (which later in the map’s legend was categorised as artisan-hobbyist) probably would not have been added as a category, if it wasn’t for this brief encounter.

Figure 3.20 (left) & Figure 3.21 (right) On the left a picture of self-proclaimed maker Nanny (55), garbage collector and artist. Produced by author. On the right a picture that Nanny had sent me showing the art that she makes of the garbage that she had picked up. Produced by Nanny.

The legend was eventually co-created between the students and teachers. In Poblenou it consisted of maker communities that the students had identified in their walk, such as: bicycle makers; neighbourhood associations; urban gardeners; Sardana dancers (traditional Catalan dance); furniture refurbishers; artisans (here subcategories were proposed consisting of craftsmen & manufacturers, ceramists, and hobbyists); street artists; music makers (also here subcategories were proposed consisting of music collective, electronic music collective, and sound system collective); and cannabis collective.

Due to the fact that the students had scanned the area with a certain lens, none of them had mentioned start-ups, tech-businesses, or the fab-lab as forming part of the ‘maker community’. This is in stark contrast with the way other stakeholders, such as association Poblenou Urban District, Maker Fair Barcelona, or sometimes even the municipality, portray the makers of this area in their discourse and in the maps that they publish of this area.57 The contrast between the visible makers (high-tech companies and start-ups of the area) and invisible makers (the ones that the students had documented) becomes even more evident if we compare the legend created by the Poblenou Urban District association (see Figure 3.22) —portraying their idea of Poblenou’s makers— with the legend of makers created by the students in this research (see Figure 3.23).

57 Poblenou Urban District is an association founded in 2012 that claims to promote the area as the New Art and Creativity District of Barcelona. The association is an important stakeholder in actively portraying ’the makers’ in this neighbourhood. They do this by organizing annual events (always linked to creativity) and regularly publishing a map-directory that shows where the establishments can be localised that form part of the maker movement.

Figure 3.22 (left) & Figure 3.23 (right) On the left a map and legend of the ’maker community’ in Poblenou according to Poblenou Urban District association. Retrieved May 1, 2020, from http://www.poblenouurbandistrict.com. On the right, a map and legend of the ’maker community’ in Poblenou according to Elisava students. Retrieved May 1, 2020, from https://elisava. performativemapping.net/uploads

The legend of the first map (Figure 3.20) comprises: advertising and communication agencies; bars and mixology; creative shops; creative centres and artists’ studios; coworking centres and hubs; deli and take away; production and postproduction studios and events; foundations and associations; fashion showroom; art galleries and showrooms; hotels and hostels; real estate and consultancy; museums; restaurants; concert halls, theatres and music promoters; health and adventure; industrial services. If we take a closer look at the subcategories that fall under ‘foundations and associations’, only the following three are mentioned in this map: Poblenou Urban District, Palo Alto, and Barcelona Forum District. The neighbourhood association and civic centre L’Associació de Veïns i Veïnes del Poblenou (AVPN) —active since the 1970’s with 870 members to date— is not mentioned, neither are other local associations such as that of Sardana dancers that the students had identified.

If we look at the other (sub)categories of legends in both maps, there are almost no overlaps between the two maps, thus reinforcing the relevance of the lens that was used to approach this neighbourhood with. Furthermore, in the interviews that the students held with the maker communities, we could observe that the communities did not consider the businesses of the first map as being relevant, or as playing a significant

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role in the daily lives, or in that of other local residents of the area.

As explained in the beginning of this paragraph, this research was also performed in Ciutat Vella district, the old city centre, this time with different students. I will not go into detail as to how the legend was defined and materialised in this specific area, but what is relevant to mention is how this differing local context has resulted in a very different outcome for the legend. In Ciutat Vella there is not a strong city branding maker culture discourse such as in Poblenou, and therefore, the question regarding what counts as ‘makers’ and according to whom is less relevant. In this context, other questions arose from walking the area. What the students had noticed in Ciutat Vella were the many maker activities that involved a material transformation, after which the transformed material was sold in boutiques. For instance, metal that was made into jewellery, cardboard that was made into furniture, found materials made into lamps, etc. In this context, the material transformation and in some cases the knowledge needed for this transformation —in many cases knowledge that passes from generation to generation— were proliferating. Thus, the collectively defined words of the legend, for this area of the city, comprised materials: ceramics; metal; fibre or leather; ink; wood; foods; mixed materials; other.

3.2.3 Inter-facing between the formal and the informal Inter-facing was an affordance that was built in the map app design in the following way: each group of students58 performed research into a ‘maker community’ by interviewing people of that community (learning how to perform qualitative interviews formed part of the course objectives), this way examining a category of the legend. The place of the interview was chosen by the interviewee for which a day and time was reserved (in some cases it was more than one interview or different members of the community that were interviewed). It could be either the place where the student had spotted the maker in the first place, the workplace of this community, or another place that the community members assigned as relevant for his/her informal maker practice (see Figure 3.24).

After the interview, the students selected the data from the interview that they considered relevant (in relation to this community/category) to upload to the map.

Figure 3.24

58 in the co-creation of the legend in this case study the teachers were involved but in this phase the teachers were not involved any longer.

Screenshot of map interface depicting the place that the interviewee had chosen to have the interview, which in this case was her studio space. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved May 1, 2020, from https://elisava. performativemapping.net/uploads.

By performing the interviews, the students were able to learn about the subculture(s) the maker forms part of, and how the researched community relates to other/formal or institutionalised collectives. The decision to visualise linkages such as these —between the informal and the formal/institutionalised— was informed during the interviews that the students held with some of the ‘invisible’ makers. As it turned out, some of the interviewed invisible makers have formal employment (for example, council worker Nanny), but do not consider that occupation to characterise who they really are, and therefore, they have another job on the side in which they contend, their ‘maker-side’ proliferates.

Most of those interviewed people are artists who can’t make a living from their creations alone and, therefore, make their art on the side/after their formal maker hours. What was revealed in some of the interviews is that some of these artists mentioned to use their formal work for their informal maker job. For instance, the same workspace would be used to exhibit their art works59, or the people that they have got to know through the company where they work would be potential clients for their creations made in their informal jobs. What may have started as a hobby, could this way —through the network that is created and the linkages that are made between formal and informal businesses— transform into paid /formal labour.

The degree of the (in)formal setting in which a maker was operating —a discovery that was made through the interviews and enabled by the co-created legend— was, therefore, relevant to include in the design of the map interface. This was done by enabling the student/cartographer to choose a level of transparency to assign to the mapped category (the more transparent the less formal and the more opaque the more formal the setting where the maker was operating in). Due to the fact that it is rather hard and arbitrary to assign an exact level of formality, I chose for a sliding scale instead of having to introduce a numeric value.

Looking closely at the map of Figure 3.23, we can observe that the makers that operate mostly in an informal setting (the more transparent dots on the map) are the guerrilla gardeners, street artists, and artisan collectives, while the makers that operate in a more formal setting are the bicycle makers, furniture refurbishers, and music makers (the more opaque dots on the map). What was not elaborated on, and what I would have liked to iterate on, is linking the informal and formal settings in which a maker operates. Due to lack of time and resources this iteration was not performed. Nevertheless, students draw those relations in the map through connecting the dots of invisible makers to more formal settings/places that some of those makers form part of.

In the previous paragraphs I explained how the legend was constructed from the ground up and co-created between students and teachers. When it comes to the affordance of inter-facing, there are two ways in which this affordance was examined. On the one hand, inter-facing involves juxtaposing positions. Here, the case seeks a confrontation between ‘makers’ as they are portrayed (in a more top-down way) by the maker

59 In this context it would be interesting to examine the same area by foot at different moments of the day/night to see if there are spaces that transform to other/different uses.

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movement, maker fairs, formal institutions, etc. and self-proclaimed makers that are encountered by cartographers through applying the earlier described bottom-up carto-ethnographic research approach. Inter-facing, here, happens by juxtaposing the top-down with the bottom-up approach. Juxtaposing these position enables us to view how makers are defined and by whom. On the other hand, with the map that the students have created, a first attempt is made of inter-facing between formal/institutionalised settings and informal settings in which the makers operate. Although the inter-facing affordance —to relate the formal and informal settings/places in which the ‘invisible’ maker operates— was not (yet) fully worked out, the potential of this approach has been presented.

3.2.4 Positioning and contributions In the two case studies presented in this chapter I work with disadvantaged communities. Similar to the previous case study (Mapping Invisibility), in Mapping Invisible Makers I choose to voice the communities I work with/research with which my role as design researcher is intertwined with activism. In this concluding section I analyse the ways in which I voice the (invisible) maker communities and my (changing) roles and positions in light of the domains that the case study serves. For this analysis I use an action matrix (see Figure 3.25).

Figure 3.25

Note: Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Mapping Invisible Makers.

Adapted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://doi.org/1 0.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

Looking at the action matrix of both case studies, we can observe that both cases depart from a similar initial positioning, and both strive for a similar end positioning (that is; change). Similar to the previous case study, Mapping Invisible Makers initially involves observing public space. However, this is done with a certain lens; one that focuses on informal maker practices. This practice combined ‘observing’ with ‘imagining’ (through taking pictures and assigning words to the legend) what other makers there might be.

The research participants in Mapping Invisible makers (both students and teachers) then formulate a legend with which they can categorise the informal makers of each district.

The categorisation revealed the kind of problems and opportunities of each district. For instance, in the case of Poblenou, the legend comprised informal makers of all sorts (artists, bicycle makers, ceramicists, music makers, etc) that are not to be found on ‘official’ maps of this area, with which the purpose of the map is to counter the more tech savvy community of makers that this area is often branded for. In the choice of the legend

and in seeking for a categorisation that is context and site specific, the students could tell a specific story about the area that they were examining, a practice of ‘engaging’.

In the action matrix, I then demarcate a line that goes from ‘engaging’ to ‘intervening’ (and changing) as end goal. ‘Engaging’ entails the ethnographic research that was performed by the students, where they interviewed the subjects (the local makers or important actors from the community that was researched). The students would then upload relevant data from these interviews to the digital map. The map interface affords students of different classes (approximately 80 in total) to work with the same interface simultaneously with which the map gradually became filled with stories. Similar to Mapping Invisibility, this case also involves storytelling, only here I don’t work with GPS inscription. Differently, specific stories become attached to places for which the stories are assigned geo-coordinates on the map. The focus here is on places (See Spaces > Physical space > Places in Figure 3.15) that people create (in line with a bottom-up approach) and not on existing venues (in line with a top-down approach). The stories then, can also be uploaded/listened to in different formats. The choice of the format with which to tell or convey a story (audio, video, or image in combination with text) depends on the kind of maker that is being mapped, and the way that the message is best conveyed for that specific community and place. This is a form of intervening with a local context, and a way of telling a story that is especially interesting for design researchers.

In this case study I was also involved as teacher in the course. The map interface that I had designed therefore, was used, together with other teachers of the course, as a means to perform carto-ethnographic research. As design researcher I focused on the participatory potentials of the digital map interface in this context. My examination, here, was on methodological level with which the case study also makes a contribution to research.

The map interface presents interesting affordances to perform participatory ethnographic design research. Teachers and students were able to collaborate in the research by using the same map interface. By leaving the categories for the legend open prior to the walk, the students were able to construct a legend that includes everyone’s encounters in the field. Also, the legend could be co-created between students and teachers.

Furthermore, by using the same map interface to upload the data, students could gain insights that they wouldn’t have obtained otherwise (that easily) if they had applied more traditional research methods, such as observation or interviewing alone. This has to do with the fact that the map is visible and editable by all students and is able to create relations that other methods are less capable of. In this case, linkages could be made between formal and informal settings in which the makers operate.

Although this last affordance could be worked out much further in this case study, I was able to point out the potentials of the map interface to create these kind of relations.

Furthermore, by making linkages such as these, the case study sheds new light on the classic differentiation that is often made between the market and citizens (collectives), namely here we can see citizen collectives that operate as entrepreneurs. Also, by juxtaposing this map to other maps (such as the one in Figure 3.22), a classic differentiation that is often made between the state/government and the market gets a new perspective, namely the municipality that identifies and portrays certain market parties (for instance,

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the Fab Lab) and others not (such as guerrilla gardening, scrap dealers, informal bicycle makers, etc.). This mapping approach has the potential to include new or diverse stories of makers and present more dimensions, as to how makers operate and manoeuvre between the formal and informal city, and between the public and the private.

The eventual aim of the case study is to achieve a ‘change’. With this I mean voicing the informal maker communities. The constructed map could be held against the ones that are created by other stakeholders, such as the municipality or market parties.

Presenting these ‘different’ maps is a form of ‘intervening’ in the dominant or top-down discourse that is brought forward about the ‘maker community’. Then, the way in which these maps are presented to the public —for instance, through publications in a local magazine (see Figure 3.26)60 or a public exhibition (See People > public > exhibition visitors in Figure 3.12), where people of the municipality and other stakeholders were invited— is then an intent to change this more dominant discourse and move it into new directions.61 In this way, I seek to reach out to a broader public than merely having the research stay within the institutional constrains.

Figure 3.26 Photos of Ciutat Nova magazine. Ciutat Nova is a local magazine about city related issues. The magazine used to publish the research Invisible Makers (Bofill, 2018) performed by Elisava students every trimester. On the left some examples of students’ research projects on makers. On the right an explanation of the project. Produced

by Danae Esparza.

60 Ciutat Nova magazine is a local magazine that published parts of this research every trimester. The research in Poblenou was published in this edition: Fent un mapa del Invisible Makers del Poblenou (2018, July). Ciutat Nova Magazine. Vol. 174, 42-47.

61 More info on the exhibition can be retrieved via this link: https://www.elisava.net/en/calendar/design-city-making-exhibition.

The project formed part of Design for City Making (DxCM) initiative at ELISAVA School of Design and Engineering in Barcelona (Spain). With this three-year initiative (2017-2020)—led by Ezio Manzini—the school seeks to introduce its students to projects related to design for social innovation. The results of the mapping of the first pilot were presented to public in January 2019 at the Design for City Making exhibition at ELISAVA.

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4. DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING AND RESEARCH Where in the previous chapter self-designed map apps were examined for their affordances to juxtapose or to confront differing perspectives on public space and public issues (with which the case studies served a societal purpose), the case studies in this chapter look at digital mapping as a participatory research method. The focus is on the collective definition of the legend, collective data-aggregation in situ, and co-creation in representation.

As explained in chapter 2, co-creating in this doctoral research is directly linked to the notion of empowerment, relevant for the participatory action research approach that I use. Empowerment in the context of this PhD entails being enabled to engage at a sociopolitical level in public (space) issues. This engagement can contribute to implementing wishes of, for instance, marginalised groups, as well as, community related values at neighbourhood scale. At the community level, empowerment refers to the collective action to improve the quality of life in a community, and consequently, it encompasses all the approaches that develop physical interventions to create social change (Zimmerman, 2000). Citizen empowerment involves engaged citizens. Empowerment in its most general sense, happens when people —individually or collectively— take action to pursue better lives for themselves (Dom, 2012). It implies control and awareness; an empowered person exhibits a sense of control and efficacy over personal, social, and economic matters, and a critical understanding of his/her environment (Israel et al., 1994). Gaining this control and awareness is key for (feeding) the communal good (Bueno de Mesquita et al., 2018, p.3).

Where civic apps seek to enable citizens to gain control and awareness of their environment, critical cartography and critical GIS are concerned with questions of agency, and how the representation of space has shifted from the state to the citizen. The digitisation of maps has contributed in relevant ways towards this shift of which many examples can be found of crowdsourcing tools that make use of geo-located data such as Public participatory GIS (PPGIS) (Dunn, 2007) and Volunteered Geographic Information (VGI) (Haklay, 2013). Crowdsourcing tools are often purposed at urban planning in projects that are interested in receiving citizens’ input. Many of the projects that use crowdsourcing tools and civic apps, couple the involvement of citizens in data collection to claims of empowerment. Together with fellow researchers of Citizen Data Lab Amsterdam, I examined this claim by looking at the ways in which citizens participate in those apps, and how this could potentially lead to empowerment. Through the analysis that we performed62, we concluded that many of the apps focus on ‘data collection’ as a form of problem notification, while they fail to involve citizens in other stages, that we see, as equally or even more relevant for empowerment. We contend that the empowering potentials of those apps would lie in their affordances to enable citizens to engage in (the debate of) what is to be considered a matter of concern. We have found that many apps fail to engage users at a more sociopolitical level in public (space) issues with which, we contend, the potentials of those apps are not fully deployed. Consequently, I

62 The paper where we published our findings : Bueno de Mesquita, N., Cila, N., Groen, M., & Meys, W. (2018). Socio-technical systems for citizen empowerment: how to mediate between different expectations and levels of participation in the design of civic apps. International Journal of Electronic Governance, 10(2), 172-195.

developed an approach in my map apps where the focus lies on potentials for empowerment. Here I look at the affordance of co-creation, and point out where and why this affordance is relevant for designers who perform participatory research, and who work in public space context.

In this chapter, firstly I explain how the surge of digital technologies has contributed to a development in cartography where citizens can participate in data-aggregation.

Secondly, I look at existing civic apps that seek to deploy participatory approaches in data-aggregation. Through presenting the shortcomings in those apps in their empowering potentials, I am able to argue choices that I made in three self-designed map apps. In this chapter, and based on those choices, I introduce novel approaches for researchers. Therefore, the case studies in this chapter primarily serve the domain of research and particularly look at participatory approaches for data collection and data representation for design research.

4.1 The participatory affordances of civic apps Benefitting from the advantages that digital technologies and open data present, increasingly more institutions (governments, municipalities), professionals, companies, architects, designers, and urban planners use citizen data in their projects, either in the design of civic apps or by using open data that is made available (by governments or municipalities), and giving this data a(n) new/added value. In our research (Bueno de Mesquita et al., 2018), we have found that citizens input in these examples is often limited to the stage of data collection. When it comes to other phases —such as the methods used for data collection, the definition of the criteria of what data is relevant to collect or the representation of this data via maps— more caution is exercised (especially by governments and municipalities) in the involvement of citizens (R. Priester, personal communication, 15 January, 2016). Furthermore, we found that retrieved data is often only made actionable for governments or professionals —in some cases to justify legislators to take certain actions (R. Priester, personal communication, 15 January, 2016)— with which citizens are often confined to limited roles of engagement, mostly that of problem notifiers.

Determining what is relevant and reliable data, I first explain how I use these terms in this chapter. With relevant data, I point to the representativeness of the data for the user group. For instance, where it concerns data collection performed by a certain community, I take on what this community defines as being relevant. Therefore, what is relevant data to work with is predominantly determined by the participants of my research. With reliable data, I point to the use of scientific criteria, as explained in chapter 2, to safeguard validity of the research. Therefore, in my case studies involving mostly qualitative data, I use methods such as triangulation of data.

When it comes to the examination of relevant data, who is involved in data collection and data representation (in maps, visual representations, tangible objects, etc) are pivotal inquiries in the design of civic apps. In our paper (Bueno de Mesquita et al., 2018), we consider that this critical examination often remains under-explored in civic apps, and that therefore potentials for empowerment are not well understood. Furthermore,

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we argue that professionals would benefit from looking more at incorporating participatory approaches in the stage of data representation in the design of civic apps.

Prior to examining the self-designed map apps in this chapter, I present existing (including commercial) civic apps and their potentials for empowerment for which I use a taxonomy. Pointing out where the shortcomings in those apps are, enables me to introduce my own apps, with which I consider that more relevant data from the participants can be obtained. I contend that design researchers could benefit from understanding those different forms of input when they purpose map apps as tool in participatory research.

4.2 Civic apps compared A civic application (also called civic app) is a software that is designed for citizens to participate in public issues, such as reporting trash, suggesting ideas for the neighbourhood, or reacting to municipal plans that concern urban regeneration. The value of civic apps lies in voicing and mapping citizens’ aspirations, thus making local issues visible and addressable to other stakeholders (such as civil servants) to act upon, with which the claim is often made that citizens are given agency. In the research that we performed, we concluded that citizen engagement in civic apps does not necessarily lead to citizen empowerment (ibid). In our paper, we compared and analysed eleven civic apps (see Table 4.1) for their potentials for empowerment. There are many more civic apps on the market (including apps that are very similar to the ones selected). The criteria that apply to the selected apps are: the creators of these apps all claim to empower citizens, data in these apps is collected by citizens, and information of the apps is available about the different stakeholders involved. In continuation (see Table 4.1) a short description of each app is given.

Table 4.1

App

Description

1. Verbeter-

A commercial platform that serves as the connection between the citizen and the

debuurt

government. Users can add a photo, select a location and problem category, and add a description. Besides reporting problems, they also allow users to submit ideas about improvement of a certain location, but as stated on their website, this is not sent to the municipality. Furthermore, the platform also contains a map overview of all added data points categorised by open submitted problems, fixed problems, and ideas. Users are able to comment on added reports and ideas.

Retrieved April 10, 2021, from https://www.verbeterdebuurt.nl/

2. BuitenBeter

A commercial multi-platform mobile application that serves as a connection between the citizen and the government for reporting issues in the public space.

Users can add a photo, their location, a predefined category and a description.

There is no overview of reports that have been submitted by others. It is unclear, for this reason, how many reports are actually fixed. Retrieved April 10, 2021, from https://www.buitenbeter.nl

App

Description

3. Commonwealth

A commercial multi-platform mobile application that serves as the connection

Connect

between the citizen and the government. Users can add a photo, select a location and problem category, and add a description. In the app, nearby reports can be viewed on a map. It is also possible to leave a (location-based) message to the community in the app, which will also show on the map. Other users can reply and/or like a report or message. The top reported categories mentioned on the website are: pothole, trash, and graffiti. According to the website, the average response time is 2.8 days to acknowledge an issue and most issues were closed or solved within 16 days in 2015. Retrieved April 10, 2021, from http://commonwealthconnect.io/

4. MyCleanCity

An iOS reporting tool app from the municipality of Amsterdam. Users can report issues in the public space and also attach a picture. Users can choose to let the municipality keep them updated on the progress of fixing the problem. There is no overview of other reports. Because of this, it is unclear how many reports are actually fixed. Retrieved April 10, 2021, from https://www.mycleancity.nl/index.php

5. FixMyStreet

A (non-profit) platform that serves as the connection between the citizen and the government. FixMyStreet makes sure the report arrives at the right location inside the government. This could be via just an email or via the Open311 standard. Users can select reports from a predefined set of categories. Looking at the statistical reports, 500 UK councils are receiving reports. Around 16000 issues are reported per month (January 11th, 2016). Retrieved April 10, 2021, from https:// www.fixmystreet.com/

6. Hallo IJburg

A community platform created by the community. It is multi-purpose: from sharing events to presenting projects in the area and giving news from the neighbourhood. For this research, we specifically look into the ‘wishes’ section. Here, citizens can add their wish to improve or change something in the neighbourhood. Wishes are classified in seven categories. Other users can respond to ideas. Users can also choose to like the wish, actively help with the wish, or become one of the main initiators of the wish. A total of 225 wishes have been submitted, but looking at the date of added wishes, the number of responses has dramatically decreased after the first year. Only 10 ideas were submitted in 2015, while in 2014, 215 ideas were submitted. Retrieved April 10, 2021, from https://halloijburg.nl/

7. Betaville

A tool created by design researchers which allows people to use software to create 3D models of buildings, a district, or an entire city. The tool can be downloaded and used as a desktop application. Created models can be shared and edited by others. While it is mentioned that the tool should be usable by anyone from individuals to design firms and the municipality, the tool is quite complex.

50 models have been added so far by 16 users in 2 years. The largest contributor has added 20 of the 50 models (betaville.net). The app is currently (April 10, 2021) inactive.

8. Idee voor je

A community platform initiated by the municipality. Citizens are able to submit

Buurt

ideas in free format to the website. They can be linked to either a specific neighbourhood or to the city in general. Other users can support a submitted idea. 30 ideas have been submitted in 2015, but there are almost no responses on the submitted ideas from the municipality or other citizens. The app is currently (April 10, 2021) inactive.

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App

Description

9. What Moves You

A map app that was created by myself (design researcher) which allows people to administer feelings to places and venues in Eindhoven during the Dutch Design Week 2015. See also case study 4.4 of this chapter.

10. Kerrokantasi

A municipality-initiated website which allows citizens to voice their opinion about development plans in the city. In some cases, users can only comment on already created plans for a certain area. In some other cases, users are also able to select the best option in their opinion from multiple presented options of how an area could be developed. Users are encouraged to also elaborate on why they think the option they chose is the best one. Retrieved April 10, 2021, from https://kerrokantasi.hel.fi/.

11. Measuring

A map app that was created by a design researcher from Citizen Data Lab

Amsterdam

Amsterdam. The tool offers open data via a publicly accessible API. People’s observation is used as a way to collect data at neighbourhood scale. The categories of the map were based on previously reported problems (such as dangerous traffic situations due to people who use their mobile phones while cycling) in the street where the map app was used. In the app, participants could select a main category from the dropdown menu after which a new dropdown menu allowed them to enter more specific values. Retrieved April 10, 2021, from http://www. citizendatalab.org/.

Note: Description of the civic apps used in the taxonomy. Adapted from “Socio-technical systems for citizen empowerment: how to mediate between different expectations and levels of participation in the design of civic apps,” by N. Bueno De Mesquita, N. Cila, N, M. Groen, and W. Meys, 2018, International Journal of Electronic Governance, 10(2), p. 17 (https://doi.org/10.1504/IJEG.2018.093835). Copyright 2018 by Naomi Bueno de Mesquita.

In our paper, we examine nine criteria (see Table 4.2) that give us information about aspects of the use of these applications, such as the stakeholders involved, publicly accessible API63, etc. Most relevant for this PhD, however, are the two main threads with which the apps are being compared, being; level of participation (represented in the thickness of the lines of Figure 4.1) and level of empowerment (represented in the colour of the lines of Figure 4.1). As for the thread that depicts participation, the active usage of an app was examined at the time that the paper was written. We noticed discrepancies in activity with regards to the use of the apps and intended to understand —through some of the presented criteria of Table 4.2— where and why these discrepancies occur. As for level of empowerment, what we consider to be more empowering in this scheme, is the ability for citizens to engage more at a sociopolitical level in public (space) issues with which the potential of the app lies in the ability to change policy on a local scale. Here, we depart from the app’s affordance to co-create —enabling participants to co-create aspects of the map gives them agency, and therefore has empowering potentials— where individual or collaborative contributions are able to create new value. We differentiate between ‘see-click-fix’ apps and apps that are able to engage citizens —including the locals and marginalised groups— in more meaningful ways, that is, (the debate of) what is to be considered a matter of concern. It is in the latter where we attribute the potentials for empowerment to. In continuation, a brief explanation of each criterion used in Figure 4.1 is given, after which the criteria are laid out in a taxonomy (see Figure 4.1) so that the different apps can be compared (Bueno de Mesquita et al., 2018, pp. 18-19).

63 API stands for Application Programming Interface, which is a software intermediary that allows two applications to talk to each other.

Table 4.2 Criteria to examine the

Explanation

apps a) Initiators

Who initiated the project or the design of the application, distinguishing between four stakeholders: design researchers (3 apps), NGO’s (2 apps), municipalities (3 apps) and companies (3 apps).

b) Type of engagement

The idea(l)s that were envisioned with the design of the application regarding engagement type: apps that enable citizens to report problems (5 apps) and apps that enable citizens to introduce solutions/ideas/feelings for a better living environment in relation to places/issues (6 apps).

c) Publicly accessible API

Whether or not the data has a publicly accessible API. Data that is collected via the tool could be published under the open data license and retrievable via an API (2 apps). This means that anyone can retrieve the data that is in the system and use it without any restrictions in their own projects or tools.

Or, there is no publicly accessible API (9 apps).

d) How data is gathered

How data is collected, distinguishing between location based (7 apps) and non-location-based applications (4 apps). The location-based apps refer to an application in which one’s latitude and longitude position is automatically linked to the data that is submitted. The non-location based apps allow to add a location regarding the issue without necessarily being present on the location (for instance, behind a desktop at home).

e) Data can be traced

Data can be traced back to an individual. With regards to privacy issues this

back to individual

is an important feature. Some apps require to register and can trace the user after registration, while other apps leave the user completely anonymous. In the taxonomy, we can see that only the apps that were set up by design researchers (3 apps) leave the user incognito.

f) Data contains

Data that is either collected with predefined categories or without

predefined categories

predefined categories. In this case, we make a distinction between someone who has to choose between categories in a dropdown menu/predefined text options (7 apps), and data that can be submitted in a more ‘open’ format (4 apps) which contains free text descriptions, photos or drawings.

g) Municipality can

Whether or not the municipality has the ability to directly act upon the data.

directly act on data

This means that reports should directly arrive at the municipality in their preferred data format after reporting it via the tool (5 apps). The municipality can then (automatically) send it to the department that can best resolve the reported issue. Or, the data does not end up at the municipality (6 apps).

h) Data sets produced for

The scale in which a certain issue is reported/addressed/expressed, distinguishing between local (6 apps) and city scale (5 apps). For example, reporting trash is considered a city-wide issue, while expressing a specific feeling/wish in regards to a place is considered a local issue.

i) Short term or

The idea(l)s that were envisioned with the design of the application

continuous usage

regarding term of usage. Some projects are clearly aimed at short term usage (5 apps) (for instance, during a specific event), while others are aimed at continuous usage (6 apps) and at different moments of the day or month.

Note: Explanation of nine criteria with which the apps of Table 4.1 are examined. Adapted from “Socio-technical systems for citizen empowerment: how to mediate between different expectations and levels of participation in the design of civic apps”, by N. Bueno De Mesquita, N. Cila, N, M. Groen, and W. Meys, 2018, International Journal of Electronic Governance, 10(2), pp. 18-19 (https://doi.org/10.1504/IJEG.2018.093835). Copyright 2018 by Naomi Bueno de Mesquita.

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Figure 4.1

Note: Eleven apps compared and placed in a taxonomy. Upon the researchers’ instructions, the diagram was created by students from Citizen Data Lab, HvA. From “Socio-technical systems for citizen empowerment: how to mediate between different expectations and levels of participation in the design of civic apps”, by N. Bueno De Mesquita, N. Cila, N, M. Groen, and W. Meys, 2018, International Journal of Electronic Governance, 10(2), p.

20 (https://doi.org/10.1504/IJEG.2018.093835). Copyright 2018 by Naomi Bueno de Mesquita.

As we can see in this taxonomy, most civic apps focus on efficiency-based improvement of public spaces by enabling citizens to report on problems, such as having trash picked up or street lamps fixed. Google Play Store aptly entitles such apps as “see-click-fix” (SeeClickFix n.d.). In our research on civic apps, we found many examples of apps that aim to contribute in making the city more efficient or cleaner. The first five apps of Figure 4.1 (Verbeterdebuurt, Buitenbeter, Commonwealth Connect, MyCleanCity, and Fix My Street) all make it relatively easy to report on a problem and have it solved (such as cleaning up trash). Fixmystreet, MyCleanCity, BuitenBeter and Verbeterdebuurt all involve a ‘quick fix’ that is potentially beneficial for all stakeholders involved; the citizen as data-submitter can directly benefit from reporting trash by having a cleaner street, while the municipality gets informed and can act adequately.64 Although we acknowledge the value of quick fix problem-reporting apps in their potential to have one gain control and awareness over one’s surroundings, they are primarily used by already informed or engaged citizens. We contend that they are not representative for a wider range of society in which the wishes of all locals or marginalised groups are voiced. At the same time, those apps will not gain us access to local knowledge of those groups to include issues that they find important to address (Bueno de Mesquita et al., 2018).

While the term ‘local knowledge’ originally refers to indigenous or ‘traditional’ ways of knowing, in our research we broaden the definition to encompass “tacit knowledge as embodied in lived experiences and reproduced in everyday behaviour and speech” (Cruikshank, 2014, p. 9), with an emphasis on including knowledge by any individual. Not all forms of local knowledge, however, are compatible with existing systems. Whose knowledge and which knowledge gets used are, therefore, inherently political questions (Bueno de Mesquita et al., 2018). In seeking to have locals or marginalised groups participate, this PhD research looks at a rather different type of participation where the logic of reporting-fixing does not suffice. The last five apps, therefore, look at other kinds of contributions of citizens in data collection. We have reflected on the challenges that designers of these apps face.

Looking at the taxonomy by focusing on the thread ‘participation’ (the thicker the line in Figure 4.1, the more people use the app), we can see that the first five apps —Verbeterdebuurt, Buitenbeter, Commonwealth Connect, MyCleanCity, and Fix My Street— are set up by institutions, NGO’s, and corporate businesses (indicated as criteria ‘a’ in Figure 4.1). Different to apps created by designers, these almost all have a continuous and active usage (indicated as criteria ‘i’ in Figure 4.1), which can be explained by the simple fact that there is a higher investment for its design (the UX and UI design is better) and marketing (they have budgets for marketing campaigns).

From the user side, the app is free of cost; citizens can create an account and add reports for free. In order for municipalities to respond to these reports, however, they need to connect to the APIs of these corporate tools, and for this they pay.

64 Whether the municipality is informed correctly though is up for debate. In citizens science research, for example, there is debate about the liability of data that citizens collect and submit.

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Connecting the company’s API to that of the municipality is what the business model of such companies is often about, which might also explain why these APIs are not publicly available (indicated as criteria ‘c’ in Figure 4.1). Another factor that explains why there is more participation in the first five apps, is that direct involvement of the municipality (indicated as criteria ‘g’ in Figure 4.1) and clear feedback seem to be important issues for continuous usage of an app. For the ‘quick fix’ apps, it shows that if the municipality acts on the first report added by a user, there is a significant higher chance that the same user will report another time (Sjoberg et al, 2015).

Looking at the taxonomy of Figure 4.1 by focusing on the thread ‘empowerment’ (the darker the line in Figure 4.1, the higher the level of empowerment), we can see that there are different affordances of the apps that we subscribe to as having empowering potentials. Firstly, we contend that the app should enable participants to engage in the question of what is to be considered a matter of concern. For example, in Figure 4.1 we can see that the first five apps —Verbeterdebuurt, Buitenbeter, Commonwealth Connect, MyClearnCity, and Fix My Street— almost all involve submitting data on a ‘city scale’ (indicated as criteria ‘h: city scale’ in Figure 4.1). With this we mean, that the data is derived from an individual who reports an issue on the city’s ‘infrastructural’ level, rather than a report that tells something about a local community, or the interest of an individual regarding a certain neighbourhood (indicated as criteria ‘h: local scale’ in Figure 4.1). We link the ‘city scale’ engagement with a more superficial form of engagement as it does not draw on issues that give rise to a subjective or communal perception of public space, neither does it invite local citizens —including marginalised groups— to participate in the debate of what is to be considered a matter of concern. Therefore, the first five apps are considered less empowering from this perspective.

Secondly, we subscribe importance to data that is submitted ‘from within the field’ thus, where the participant has a relation to the place where (s)he is in when submitting the data (indicated as criteria ‘d’ in Figure 4.1). Location based data has great potential to do this, as the datapoint carries a geotag which affords to reveal or communicate something about an issue through a physical presence at the place that is talked about. Therefore, we differentiate between location-based tools and non-location-based tools. In location-based tools, data is derived from the context, rather than adding data from a desktop application. For this reason, we labelled Betaville (number 7 in the taxonomy in Figure 4.1) as slightly less ‘empowering’ as the interface does not allow to submit data from being in the field, but rather involves drawing proposals (in the form of 3D models) to make an improvement of public space from behind a desktop. We contend that in such cases the daily reality can easily be distorted. The app does not use the potential of this technology to include the messiness of public space or the micro-narratives that constitute it.

Lastly, the way we examine the apps from the perspective of ‘empowerment’ is by looking at the categories that the app works with (indicated as criteria ‘f’ in Figure 4.1).

We contend that when these are predefined, it is more likely to steer, bias, or limit

the user in the introduction of thoughts, values or feelings regarding a communal or local issue We can observe that certain affordances of the apps are critical in contributing to the form of empowerment that we are interested in. In the apps that we have analysed we could see shortcomings in the kind of data that is submitted (we could see this mostly in commercial apps), the way in which data is submitted (in which we assign more value to location-based data), and the categories/the legend that the apps work with. We have found that many civic apps work with predefined categories or data formats, which has a constraining effect on the user. Although we could see more empowering potentials in the apps that were set up by designers or design researchers, we also observed that those apps have a shorter lifespan. As a matter of fact, we have found that many apps that are created by designers or design researchers —apps that do not have a business model— have an inactive website years after the app was created. Having a shorter lifespan makes it slightly more difficult to compare them to apps that have a longer time to settle or that are being upscaled due to increased participation. Even in the examination of these nine apps —the apps that were created by designers— only two are still active three years after this taxonomy was created.

Learning from the previously mentioned shortcomings in potentials for empowerment, I now present three case studies where the self-designed map apps seek to collectively assemble data in situ. Design choices in the apps afford the participants to engage in the question of what is to be considered a matter of concern with which I tackle the earlier mentioned shortcomings.

All three case studies in this chapter examine the co-creating affordance of the map’s legend. Furthermore, Between Realities (the case study described in subchapter 4.4) looks at the attributes ‘navigation’ and ‘time’ for their co-creating affordances, while What Moves You (case study described in chapter 4.5) also examines the attribute frame and its co-creating affordance. Thus, while looking at different attributes, the affordance that all case studies in this chapter have in common is that of ‘co-creation’ with which I place emphasis on the empowering potentials of map apps in research context. Furthermore, What Moves You (the last case study of this chapter) includes the affordance performing in its examination. All three case studies in this chapter predominantly seek to make a contribution to the field of research (which is the focus of this chapter), but the case studies described in subchapter 4.3 (Co-creating Reality) and 4.4 (What Moves You) also seek to make a contribution to the societal domain.

Using the analytical lenses that were explained in the methodology chapter, the attribute ‘legend’ and the corresponding affordance ‘co-creating’ are examined in Co-creating Reality (see Figure 4.2). In Between Realities the attributes ‘legend’, ‘navigation’, and ‘time’ are examined. With each attribute I also look at the corresponding

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affordances. In this case study these are ‘co-creating’ and ‘performing’ (see diagram of Figure 4.3). In What Moves You the attributes ‘legend’ and ‘frame’ are examined.

In this case study the corresponding affordances are ‘co-creating’, ‘inter-facing’, and ‘performing’ (see diagram of Figure 4.4).

Figure 4.2 (left), Figure 4.3 (middle), & Figure 4.4 (right) On the left, the attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study Co-Creating Reality. Attributes and affordances examined in the case study Between Realities. In the middle, the attributes and affordances examined in the case study Between Realities. On the right, the attributes and affordances that are examined in the case study What Moves You. Produced by author.

In the last section of the case studies, I conclude my analysis by looking at the research positioning of each case study —for which I use an action matrix— and shorty explore the domains that the cases seek to make a contribution to.

4.3 Co-creating Reality A case on negotiating informal use of space

Figure 4.5 (part 1) Actants in the case study Co-creating Reality. Overlay frame of Figure 4.5 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 4.5 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Co-creating Reality. Produced by author.

4.3.1 People, spaces, tools, data At Design Academy Eindhoven, mapping is taught as a relevant design research method. At the time that this case study was performed, students and teachers mostly made use of analogue mapping techniques. As a new researcher at Design Academy Eindhoven, I sought to introduce digital mapping for design research with the eventual aim to demonstrate its added value for the academic curriculum. Therefore, I organised a three-days digital mapping workshop together with students and teachers. The workshop took place in Venice in June 2014.65 I had visited Venice on a regular basis before preparing the workshop as I had a sister

65 The workshop formed part of David Hamers’s Lectorate Places and Traces at the department Man and Public Space at Design Academy Eindhoven.

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who had lived in Venice for 10 years. What always stroke me was the parallel worlds in which locals, migrants, and tourists live in this city and the unwritten rules and codes that locals were using to communicate amongst each other. My sister, for example, when going to a new cafe would leave an item on the table that only Venetians possessed so that she wouldn’t be charged double for a coffee. For the mapping workshop with the students, I was especially interested in finding out where and how the informal use of space of the local, the migrant, and that of the leisure-based tourist become materialised, and where and how these worlds intersect or juxtapose. For example, mapping the traces of the migrant street-vendors and the traces of leisure-based tourists, could give us a hint as to how these groups interrelate. However, in this PhD, a spatial interrelation is not limited to a social encounter in physical space, but it involves all practices from a community that affect or that have an effect on another community or social group which can also be, implicitly, at a later stage, through virtual practices, etc. Therefore, I conceptualise interrelation in a more nuanced way and gear my (and the students’) observation towards traces of encounters or informal practices, and not necessarily focus on the encounters themselves.

Informal use of space is the appropriation of space differently to what it is designed for.

It is important that this practice takes place on a regular basis on a same location and not just a one-time thing. It can be, for instance, where the ‘illegal’ pedlars are stationed, where ‘made in China’ stickers are to be found on the pavement, where ‘message board notices offering services’ are to be found, etc. As explained earlier, the interest for informal practices had everything to do with my observations during my previous visits to the city, in how locals in their subtle ways claim space for the local community. The students, in this workshop, could learn from and teach each other how to read those practices and traces.

In the digital mapping workshop, approximately seventeen Design Academy Eindhoven students participated and two students from Accademia di Belle Arti di Venezia collaborated66 (see Spaces > Institutional space > University in Figure 4.5). The aim of the workshop was two-fold: to introduce digital mapping and discuss with the students what the added value of the digital attributes can be for design research67, and for my own PhD, to examine the affordances of the digital interface for ethnographic and participatory research.

As explained earlier, the subject matter of this case study was to define traces or practices of informal use of (public) space collectively. The students were requested to walk in pairs along the borders of the six districts of Venice —the so called Sestieri68— while documenting practices and traces of informal use of space along their path (see Spaces > Physical space > Streets in Figure 4.5). It was done in the following way: Prior to the workshop, the students were handed out a printed map of their assigned district. Each pair of students would get one map. The students could choose for themselves with who to pair, however, the ones from Venice were placed in different groups with which those groups consisted of three students. Furthermore, the students had the app myTracks installed on their mobile phones and they carried a paper and pencil.

66 Virginia Tassinari (Assistant professor at Luca school or Arts) was the local contact to the Venetian students.

67 At Design Academy Eindhoven, mapping as a research method has always played a significant role in understanding and studying public space and issues in the public domain. In this quest, however, analogue mapping techniques have always prevailed. Digital mapping, at the time, was a rather new approach to mapping at the academy.

68 Venice is divided into six neighbourhoods, known in Italian as Sestieri.

Each day, the walking workshop lasted for approximately three hours. The first day of the workshop all students departed from a different point in the city. The cartographers started their walk simultaneously and had to follow the path of the border of the assigned district. I chose this itinerary so as to apply a similar criteria for all cartographers. At the same time, I was interested in finding out what informal practices could be found on the transition between land and water as this feature is very specific for this local context. When a trace or practice of appropriation of public space was encountered —such as an elephant path69 or a street vendors’ selling point— one of the students of the cartographer-duo would send an SMS (short message service) —describing this trace or practice to the other cartographers in one or two words (see Data > Participant data > Text inscription in Figure 4.5). This category was then added to the collectively generated legend of the map. This way, the map’s categories were collectively defined and communicated via SMS, and updated by each cartographer-duo using paper and pencil. The gradually expanding and collectively constructed legend would always remain the same for all cartographers. As the cartographers in each group worked in pairs, one student would be responsible for writing the messages and keeping track of the incoming messages with which, the legend was kept up to date, while the other student would operate the app with which their itineraries were traced.

While walking, the cartographer-duos used a GPS (Global Positioning System) tracks app (which they had installed and tested prior to the workshop), this way tracing their itinerary on a digital map (see Spaces > Virtual space > Digital map in Figure 4.5). With the app, students could also take pictures of informal traces or practices. The photo had geo-data incorporated that could be added to the map. This way, pictures were added of the ‘informal’ practices that were found along each cartographer’s path. After the workshop, the students’ individual itineraries (see Data > Participant data > GPS inscription in Figure 4.5) and pictures with geo data (see Data > Participant data > Image file in Figure 4.5) were emailed to me with which I was able to plot the different itineraries and pictures onto one map.

The tools used for this case study were: a mobile phone (see Tools > Hardware > Mobile phone in Figure 4.5), the GPS tracks app (see Tools > Software > GPS tracks app in Figure 4.5), the built-in camera app (see Tools > Software > Built-in apps in Figure 4.5), the built-in text messaging app (see Tools > Software > Built-in apps in Figure 4.5), paper and pencil (see Tools > Objects > Paper & Pencil in Figure 4.5).

The people who participated in this case study were a mixed-group of approximately twenty Dutch and Italian students (see People > Research participants > students in Figure 4.5) together with three Design Academy Eindhoven teachers, that is, myself (see People > Research participants > myself in Figure 4.5), Ester van de Wiel, and Michael Kaethler (see People > Research participants > teachers in Figure 4.5).

Next, the case study is analysed while, furthermore, highlighting the actants that are relevant for its examination.

69 An elephant path is an unofficial route, formed by people making their own paths and shortcuts and often visible in grass.

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4.3.2 Constructing the legend in real time and in mobility The idea of the workshop was to have students assign words to the observed informal practices and discuss the chosen categories collectively. The digital interface affords to co-create the map’s legend so that the cartographers can contemplate the surroundings while learning from each other’s observations. Different to defining the legend prior to the phase of data collection, in this practice, data collection takes place while defining the legend. The decision on what is considered by the cartographer-duo a relevant category to add in relation to the subject matter is continuously informed by the walk and by other cartographers’ observations. The digital interface, this way, affords to co-create.

The collective data collection comprising GPS inscriptions and photos with geo data resulted in a map. The map was created this way that each layer was linked to a trace of informal use as was defined in the legend by the cartographers. The initial idea was that with this map we could define where layers intersect (for instance, how the leftovers of fake products cover both the space of migrants and tourists) or where they remain separated. The map could possibly also enable us to demonstrate the distinction between traces that have to do with mutual interest and traces that have to do with conflicting interests between the groups. The map in Figure 4.6 demonstrates the collected data-points (the lines) and pictures (waypoints) of all the students that were plotted onto one map.

Figure 4.6 Map of Venice city demonstrating the walked itineraries and waypoints of all the participants, plotted onto one map. Each waypoint contains a picture. Produced by workshop participants via GPS tracks app.

Laying a map of Venice with the six districts (see map of Figure 4.7) next to a map of the walked itineraries (see map of Figure 4.8) we can see that the students itineraries along the Dorsoduro, Castello, and some parts of Cannaregio districts neatly follow the waterfront, leaving a straight line on the map, while the San Polo and San Marco districts and the inner-sides of Cannaregio and Dorsoduro districts leave a zig-zag like pattern on the map (see Figure 4.9). This can be explained by the dead-ending streets and canal-inlets that these districts often have (see Figure 4.10).

Figure 4.7 (left) & Figure 4.8 (right) On the left a map of Venice city with the names of the six districts, also called Sestieri. Produced by author.

On the right a map of Venice city with GPS inscriptions depicting the students’ walked itineraries. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.9 (left) & Figure 4.10 (right) On the left, a zoom-in on the San Marco district of the map in Figure 4.8. The zig-zag line of the itineraries is clearly visible here. Produced by workshop participants. On the right, a picture of a dead-ending street along this trajectory which might explain the zig-zag like pattern of some parts of the itineraries on the map of Figure 4.8. Produced by author.

Looking at the map’s co-created legend (see Table 4.3), we can see that some words are more inclined to fall under the category ‘informal traces or practices’ than others, and that local knowledge is necessary to understand what ‘informal’ is for this context.

For example, of the category ‘roof terrace built on top of house’, one could question its level of informality (as a matter of fact, those terraces are very common in Venice and a municipal permit has to be granted for them). In this case, more knowledge of the local context would be needed to determine if this category is indeed an informal practice in this context. Some other examples that are not clear when it comes to their degree of informality are ‘street performers’ and ‘dumped waste’ (see Figure 4.11 for examples of pictures that were taken of this category by the participating students). Some categories that were chosen that are very specific for this local context are ‘hooks’ (see Figure 4.12 for examples of pictures that were taken of this category by the participating students)— not so surprisingly for a city that is flooded with water on a regular basis—, ‘pavement as storage for fishing equipment’, ‘informal bottle storage under pavement’, and ‘improvised boat slipway’ (see Figure 4.13 for examples of pictures that were taken of these categories by the participating students).

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Table 4.3 Legend of Informal Use of Space 1

Graffiti

2

Locks attached to balustrade

3

Bridge as photo studio

4

Pavement as storage for fishing equipment

5

Guerilla gardening

6

Laundry

7

Street performers

8

Message board notices offering services

9

Improvised seating

10

Pavement as storage for building material

11

Information on pavement

12

Public chilling

13

Roof terrace built on top of house

14

Street vender/ illegal pedlar

15

Temporary street store

16

Dumped waste

17

Improvised sports attributes

18

Improvised bike parking

19

Informal street dining spot

20

Homeless improvised shelter

21

Traces of writings in wet concrete

22

Restaurant storage on street

23

Stickers

24

Elephant paths

25

Informal bottle storage under pavement

26

Traces of pets (dog poop, dog house, buckets)

27

Hooks/ Informal hanging system

28

Self-made boat slipway

Note: the legend in the order in which it was generated and updated by the participants during the mapping session Co-creating Reality. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.11 (left) & Figure 4.12 (right) On the left, some of the pictures that were taken by the participants during mapping session Co-creating Reality belonging to the category ’dumped waste’. On the right, some of the pictures that were taken by the participants during mapping session Co-creating Reality belonging to the category ’hooks’. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.13 Some of the pictures that were taken by the participants during mapping session Co-creating Reality belonging to the category ’improvised boat slipway’. Produced by workshop participants.

Looking at the map’s categories (see Table 4.1) we can, furthermore, detect categories that are too general or do not give us much relevant information about the local context of the informal trace or practice, or the group that this practice belongs to, such as

‘public chilling’ (see Figure 4.14 for examples of pictures of this category taken by the participating students), ‘traces of writings on wet concrete’, etc. With the geo-tag that the pictures carry, we can observe that the category ‘message boards notices offering services’ (see Figure 4.15 for examples of pictures that were taken of this category by the participating students) is mostly to be found in the Cannaregio, Santa Croce, and Dorsoduro districts. Furthermore, we can observe that traces of pets are almost all to be found in Castello (see Figure 4.16 for examples of pictures of this category taken by the participating students) and in Giudecca (see Figure 4.17 for examples of pictures of this category taken by a participating teacher), which can be explained by the fact that these are more residential areas.

Figure 4.14 Some of the pictures that were taken belonging to the category ’public chilling’. Photos: participating students.

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Figure 4.15 Some of the pictures that were taken by the participants during mapping session Co-creating Reality belonging to the category ’message board notices offering services’. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.16 Some of the pictures that were taken by the participants in Castello district during mapping session Co-creating Reality belonging to the category ’traces of pets’. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 4.17 Some of the pictures that were taken in the Giudecca district during mapping session Co-creating Reality belonging to the category ’traces of pets’. Produced by Ester van de Wiel (participating teacher)

The map of Figure 4.6 demonstrates the waypoints (pictures) that were added by the students with a dot being visualised on the map when a waypoint is added. In the map of Figure 4.18 those waypoints are colour-coded according to the categories of the legend, and only visualising a dot on the map when at least ten or more waypoints of a category had been added. The students that had mapped the district Castello (the district that is situated on the right side of the map) did not use the waypoint function of the app correctly with which their map does not include waypoints (as can be viewed on the map of Figure 4.6). However, the pictures that the students had taken were saved on their mobile phones and sent to me after the workshop. With the pictures submitted by this group, the ones that came out as the categories that proliferated in the Castello district are: ‘traces of pets’, ‘(illegally dumped) waste’, ‘elephant paths’, ‘improvised boat slipways’, ‘hooks’, ‘message boards offering services’, and ‘laundry’.

If we now look again at the map with waypoints of Figure 4.18 and add the ones of Castello district to this map, we can distinguish between informal traces or practices that tend to belong more to the leisure-based tourist use of the city (see map of Figure 4.19) and those that belong more to the local use of the city (see map of Figure 4.20).

Construction material Guerilla gardening Message board notices offering services Laundry Traces of pets Illegally dumped trash Illegal pedlars Temporary street store Improvised seating

Figure 4.18 Map of Venice city demonstrating the pictures (waypoints) that were added by the participants along their walked itineraries. The dot is visualised only if categories from the legend are chosen that include 10 or more waypoints. Produced by workshop participants via GPS tracks app.

Construction material Guerilla gardening Message board notices offering services Laundry Traces of pets Illegally dumped trash Illegal pedlars Temporary street store Improvised seating

Figure 4.19 Map of Venice city demonstrating the pictures that were added by the participants along their walked itineraries that have more to do with leisure-based tourists related traces and practices. Produced by workshop participants via GPS tracks app.

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Construction material Guerilla gardening Message board notices offering services Laundry Traces of pets Illegally dumped trash Illegal pedlars Temporary street store Improvised seating

Figure 4.20 Map of Venice city demonstrating the pictures that were added by the participants along their walked itineraries that have more to do with traces and practices of locals. Produced by workshop participants via GPS tracks app.

We can also observe that the traces and practices that are more feasible to be performed by locals occupy many more areas of the map, especially in the extremities of the map, while the informal practices and traces of leisure-based tourists tend to take place in the more central parts of the map. As a matter of fact, in the Giudecca and Castello districts almost no informal practices of leisure-based tourists were photographed by the students.

[Zooming in on the legend’s categories ‘guerilla gardening’ and ‘illegal pedlar’] In this section, I zoom in on two categories of the collectively constructed legend: ‘guerrilla gardening’ and ‘(traces of) illegal pedlars’. For this, I went back to Venice a couple of months after the workshop with the students. The reason why I wanted to zoom in on those categories is because they sparked interesting debates amongst the students.

For example, many students mentioned to have seen gardens linked to other activities that they could not place and/or of which they could not determine the level of informality. The same holds for ‘illegal’ pedlars; there seemed to be a lot of ambiguity around this group about their level of informality, how they operate, with what other local businesses they collaborate (for instance, where they go when they escape from police), etc. I concluded that more knowledge about the local context was necessary to better understand those categories.

When it comes to ‘guerrilla gardening’, the map of Figure 4.21 indicates the places where the students had photographed this category (see Figure 4.22 for examples of pictures of this category taken by the participating students) where we can observe that many dots are highlighted. Although the cartographers had encountered a wide variety of seemingly informal gardening activities, some mentioned not to be sure if they were indeed informal or organised in some way or another, hence in some cases, they decided not to include them. This map, therefore, only demonstrates a fraction of the gardens that the students had encountered and discussed. The uncertainty that seemed to exist when it comes to pinpointing this category —for instance, in determining whether the gardens are indeed informal— was a trigger for me to examine this

category more in-depth. A second visit allowed me to perform a more profound examination of the gardens that in the workshop with the students I was not able to do.

Construction material Guerilla gardening Message board notices offering services Laundry Traces of pets Illegally dumped trash Illegal pedlars Temporary street store Improvised seating

Figure 4.21 Map of Venice city depicting the waypoints that were added by the participants along their walked itineraries of the category ’guerrilla gardening’. Produced by workshop participants via GPS tracks app.

Figure 4.22 Some of the pictures that were taken by the participants belonging to the category ’guerrilla gardening’ during mapping session Co-creating Reality. These pictures were mostly taken in the Giudecca district. Produced by workshop participants.

On my second visit I learned about the pivotal role that the gardens play for the local community on the island, especially in Giudecca. I discovered that many neighbourhood meetings and festivities are centred around the presence and produce of the vegetable and herb gardens. Considering that Veneto is the most agricultural rich region of Italy, it comes as no surprise that Venetians seem to take an interest in growing their own food. What was less anticipated, however, was the discovery of how important

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these gardens are for the social capital and particularly the role that their presence and produce plays for some of the marginalised groups on the island. As explained earlier, this PhD research is interested in working with and looking for ways to empower disadvantaged communities. In this context, the gardens and their representatives were a way for me to connect to those groups. I arranged to have a number of interviews with people who work with the vegetable gardens on the island: a woman who works at the women’s prison Casa di Reclusione Femminile in Giudecca, a healthcare worker at the nursing home Residenza Zitelle in Giudecca, and a local expert who takes care of a number of the gardens. I had learnt that the gardens were a way for those groups to participate in the public domain in some way or another. For example, once a week, the fruits and vegetables that are grown in the garden of the prison and that are picked up by the women in the prison, are sold to the public by the prisoners (see Figure 4.23).

Figure 4.23 Picture taken in front of women’s prison in Guidecca. On Wednesdays between 10 and 12, fruits, vegetables and herbs from the prison are sold to public by the prisoners. Produced by author.

While the vegetable garden in the prison has an almost therapeutical function for the prisoners according to the woman that I interviewed, the elderly in Residenza Zitelle converge to the vegetable and herb garden in front of the residency to celebrate seasonal changes and to participate in workshops. A healthcare worker that I interviewed at the residency works with people in early stages of dementia. She told me that over the years she had seen promising results using the herbs of the garden. In collaboration with other healthcare workers, she had developed a method to improve cognitive abilities through the use of smells of the herbs and plants with which, she claims, memories could be recollected. She showed me pictures of group workshop sessions (see Figure 4.24) that were called I Remember. As the use of some herbs are very specific for Venice during certain times of the year, she explained me that it was a useful medium to work with in this context.

Figure 4.24 Photos of an interview with a healthcare worker (Chiara) from the elderly house Zitelle in Giudecca. Chiara explained me how she uses the produce of the herb garden in group sessions with early stage dementia patients. Produced by author. The archive photos are from the elderly house that had been shown to me during the interview.

In a different interview, I spoke to the person who is (amongst others) responsible for the maintenance of the garden of the nursing home (he also happens to be a local expert on permaculture). He invited me for lunch in the open-air kitchen of the vegetable garden of the residency, where the interview took place (see Figure 4.25). The man told me that the island has very specific wind currents that make the air unique for growing certain kind of herbs and edible plants, some of which only grow in Venice. This same man had generated a database which he had plotted on a map to demonstrate the vegetable and herb gardens in the Venice region, counting up to 166 plots of land (see Figure 4.26).

Figure 4.25 Pictures during an interview with a local expert in the garden (in front of the residency). He is responsible for the maintenance of the vegetable garden of the elderly house. Produced by author.

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Figure 4.26 Screenshots of map of Venice region (and on the right a zoom-in on Venice city) indicating where formal and informal fruit, vegetable, and herb gardens are located in this region, counting up to 166 gardens. Produced by local expert via Google Maps. Retrieved April 10, 2021, from http://spiazziverdi.blogspot.com/

When it comes to the category ‘illegal pedlars’, in the discussion after the workshop some students mentioned that there appear to be many informal rules at play when it comes to this collective, but that they are difficult to pin down into categories for the legend. One student mentioned that the ‘illegal pedlars’ seem to be operating in the city under own agreements within an own network, almost like a parallel world to how others operate in this same city. This becomes strikingly clear in the way that the ‘illegal pedlars’ have organised their businesses with which they have developed tactics to make their products visible for some while staying hidden for others (law-enforcement). From the perspective of my PhD research this is an interesting group to examine, as my research deals with the question how public spaces are experienced and lived differently according to the communities I work with. In this case (and in the previous case study Mapping Invisibility) one’s legal status is the defining factor for how public space is manoeuvred through.

In the pictures that were uploaded by the students, two features for this category can be detected: the street vendors as they lay down their products (see Figure 4.27) and the traces that they leave behind from the products that they sell (see Figure 4.28). What we can learn by looking at the map with waypoints (see map of Figure 4.29) is that many of the places where the illegal pedlars lay down their products (in the San Marco and San Polo districts) are often at the beginning of narrow alleys. Going back to these areas, I noticed that those alleys were used by the migrants to escape if a law-enforcement officer was spotted. Looking for more information about the migrant community in Venice, I encountered a map of the street-vendors escape routes which confirmed the strategic positioning in these two districts that the students had mapped (see map of Figure 4.30).

Figure 4.27 (top) & Figure 4.28 (bottom) The first three images are some of the pictures that were uploaded to the map by the participants belonging to the category ‘illegal pedlars’. The last four images are some of the pictures that were uploaded to the map by the participants belonging to the category ‘illegal pedlars’. In this case the photos demonstrate traces that are left on the pavement of the product that was sold. Produced by workshop participants.

Construction material Guerilla gardening Message board notices offering services Laundry Traces of pets Illegally dumped trash Illegal pedlars Temporary street store Improvised seating

Figure 4.29 (left) & Figure 4.30 (right) On the left, a map of Venice city demonstrating the waypoints that were added by the students along their walked itineraries of the category ‘illegal pedlar’. The participants mostly added those waypoints in the districts San Marco and San Polo and often at the beginning of narrow alleys. Produced by workshop participants. On the right, a map of Venice city highlighting the escape routes used by illegal pedlars when enforcement officers are spotted. Image reproduced from W. Scheppe (2009), Migropolis: Venice. Atlas of a Global Situation, pp. 816-817, Illegal Street Vendors, Escape Routes 2007.

It was only through the collective mapping and the discussion amongst the students that these categories cultivated, that I discovered the phenomenon of the gardens and the different domains that the ‘illegal’ pedlars in the city manoeuvre between. As my PhD research looks at how different (public, private and parochial) domains in the city relate to, impact, and alter one another through the use of digital technologies, examining the movement patterns of this community is indeed relevant. This follow-up research — performed by myself— was not shared with the students.

4.3.3 Co-creating as a relational practice The main focus of this case study is on the collective creation of the legend while the map and its communicational value is of secondary importance. I will first explain what I mean with communicational value in this context. Wolfgang Kainz (2020) contends that there are three aspects that form the core of cartography: semiotics as language of cartography, epistemological aspects, that is, modeling and object relationships in space and time (ontology), and spatio-temporal communication. We can say that attributes

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such as the frame, the scale, and the legend belong to the semiotics (or the language) of cartography. However, it is in the way in which these attributes are modelled (for example, how the categories for the legend are defined) and in the way in which these attributes create a spatio-temporal relation (for example, how the chosen categories are linked to geo-coordinates on the map) that a certain message/story is conveyed.

The communicational value of the map in this case study —where I chose to examine the attribute ‘legend’ with words (indicated in Figure 4.5 as Data > Participant data > Text inscription)— lies in the logic of the language that is applied for these categories.

In this case, giving the map a communicational value would imply choosing words that belong to the same lexical category. A lexical category (also called parts of speech or word classes) is a group of words with the same topic, function, or form. In the English language, the most important lexical categories are noun, verb, adjective, adverb and preposition. Robert Van Valin (2001) contends that “lexical categories are given notional definitions, i.e., they are characterised in terms of their semantic content. For example, noun is defined as ‘the name of a person, place or thing’, verb is defined as an ‘action word’, and adjective is defined as ‘a word expressing a property or attribute’.” (p.6) Now, why is this relevant? The definition of the kind of words for the legend defines the logic that is applied. It is here where the way of looking at the subject matter is defined with which, similar to language, mapping becomes a relational practice. However, doing participatory research and working with different communities (thus including those communities in the practice of mapping) the task becomes more challenging. As we could see in Mapping Invisibility (the case study described in chapter 3), language is structured and conveyed differently across cultures, therefore, affecting the communicational value of the map. As a consequence, a map is made and read differently across cultures and it will always be biased by the cartographers cultural and linguistic backdrop. When it comes to reading maps critically, it is crucial to understand this bias and to make it explicit when certain claims are made with a map (which is the core practice of critical cartography). When it comes to making maps critically, it is crucial to be aware of the importance that the word choice has for this relational practice.

There is also another reason for why the communicational value of the map in this case study was given less importance. Due to the fact that the legend was constructed on the go —and therefore, a similar criteria could not be applied throughout the whole itinerary— the places along the itineraries could not be compared equally. Also, the route that was chosen had a direct influence on the map’s representation; if a different route had been chosen, another legend and another map would have been the outcome. For example, ‘dumped waste’ was added as a category. Most probably due to the fact that the borders of the districts were chosen as criteria —consisting of many dead-ending streets and hidden corners— there is higher probability that those items will be encountered along this itinerary.

As in this case study, I was not seeking to create a map with which to make any claims or to give the map a communicational value, I did not focus on these issues neither did I problematise them, instead, the aim of this case study was to examine the map’s affordance of co-creation through mobile methods and digital technologies. In this case, I wanted the ‘cartographers on tour’ to engage in different stages of mapping and to examine the added value of combining these stages in the context of doing field research with which this case study specifically focuses and serves the research community. For

example, in this mapping I examined the value of mobile methods and digital technologies for peer-learning, that is, learning from other cartographer’s readings of public space and its traces. It is here where I assign a value to the co-creation of the legend as a relational practice rather than seeing the map as a relational representation. Peers, in this case, were not only students but also teachers, including myself. In this context it was also interesting to see how teachers and students work together (co-create) and can learn from each other. This was, for example, illustrated by how I built on students’ findings to continue my research into two categories of the legend. The mapping triggered interesting debates and encouraged me and others to zoom in on some of the findings to see where it was relevant to conduct further research.

4.3.4 Positioning and contributions In this workshop, mapping was approached as a collective undertaking in which the legend was not a given in the first place, but it became collectively defined as the data for its categories was collected in the field. The communicational value of the map is not the focus in this case study, as explained earlier, partly due to the expanding legend with which new categories were added continuously. Although the map could inform us about what areas or topics could be relevant to examine further, the focus in this case study lies on the experiential aspect of mapping, the added value of the mobile, and the real time component for co-creation. In this section, I elaborate on my (changing) roles, the affordances of this way of mapping and the domains that this case study serves.

Where in traditional maps, the legend (or map’s categories) tends to be fixed (and defined by the cartographer) prior to or after the stage of data collection, leaving those stages open —for participants to define— and having those stages combined —for participants to discuss—, cultivates an awareness about the power that the legend holds. It is here where the empowering potentials of this practice lie, and where I link it to ‘engaging’ in the action matrix in Figure 4.31. Also, enabling participants to define those categories while being in the field, makes participants engage in the subject matter in a much more profound way than behind a computer or merely collecting data would allow. The potentials of the digital and mobile component in this mapping are that it leaves room for participants to co-create the story that is told and decide from what perspective to tell it, while these perspectives can adapt by being in the field. As indicated in the action matrix in Figure 4.31, the initial position of this case study lies between ‘observe’ and ‘imagine’ while the end goal is to ‘engage’. Participants are encouraged to observe public space with a certain lens while they imagine what other ways of looking there are through the incoming messages. What this case study was striving for was to have participants learn from others observations and engage in those ‘other’ perspectives. As explained in chapter 2, “engaging involves a type of mutual transformation, an opening up vis-à-vis others and oneself. Ideally it brings about a willingness to reexamine one’s own practice” (Verstraete et al., 2021, p.12). What this case study did not aim for is to have the participants intervene or produce a change in the space or context that was examined. Therefore, the line does not continue all the way to ‘intervene’ or ‘change’ in this matrix.

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Figure 4.31

Note: Action matrix indicating the design research practices involved in the case study Co-creating Reality. Adapted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.108 0/2373566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

While the mapping was performed by the students and some teachers, I was hoping that there would be more discussion in the chat about the categories, with which my role could become more that of ethnographer. However, this did not happen. There was not much ‘space’ claimed by the students in the chat to discuss issues, such as uncertainties regarding word choices for the legend. As a matter of fact, a discussion about the chosen categories only emerged after the mapping session, when doubts were shared that the students had experienced with the categories. During the mapping, I only intervened in the chat in instances that a category of the legend was repeated or when the definition of the category was too unclear with which my role remained that of facilitator.

To encourage more discussion in the chat I could have intervened/moderated the chat more, for instance, through introducing small breaks or intervals to discuss a certain word more profoundly. There is a practical explanation for why this was not done. At the time that this mapping session was performed, the free roaming service within Europe that was introduced by the European Union was not operative yet, with which the students had to pay for their SMS. Although sending a text would only cost them 0,10 € per message, it was certainly not an incentive to start a discussion. Also, in the execution of the mapping session I depended on the student’s mobile phones and data plans. As a researcher, I had to make use of an app that would be operative on any kind of mobile phone and where no data roaming is needed while mapping. Therefore, I had tested with many apps and phones —prior to this workshop— to make sure it would work correctly for all Dutch and Italian students. These kind of constrains have a direct impact on my research practice and the role that I (can) adopt. After this experience, I chose to work with own tools as to avoid getting stuck in too much technical issues or to become dependent on mobile phones or data plans of my participants.

This case study examined an ethnographic approach of mapping for research purpose.

Looking back at this case study, I consider that a pre-workshop would have been beneficial to have the participants use the affordances of the mapping tool more consciously.

For example, it could have been relevant to have them understand that the way pictures are taken can give them more or less research value (for instance, by always taking them from a certain angle). Furthermore, the workshop still lacks an experience of how heavily the maps legend depends on the understanding of the language and culture, partly due to the fact that this workshop was performed only once and with the same participants. In this regard, it could be interesting to perform a similar workshop, but with different groups of participants (as I will present in the next case study; Between

Realities) or to perform the mapping in two different cities simultaneously, where the cartographers exchange ideas about a certain definition of the legend. To give an example: when comparing a street vender in Venice with a street vender in Lagos, we will find that the notion of what is considered informal or illegal is largely defined by the values and norms that exist in that specific place and culture. Through juxtaposing diverse contexts in which a word is examined, the cartographers may realise (now more clearly) how heavily these ideas of appropriation depend on local knowledge, but also how the understanding of a certain category is shaped by the cultural context one is in.

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4.4 Between Realities A case on examining the scenography of public space

Figure 4.32 (part 1) Actants in the case study Between Realities. Overlay frame of Figure 4.32 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 4.32 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Between Realities. Produced by author.

4.4.1 People, spaces, tools, data “All the​​world is a stage” is no longer a metaphor but has become a reality in itself.

Staging and theatricalisation are crucial features of our contemporary mediated society. Not only we use today’s stages —in both physical and virtual space— to carefully construct​​our identity and present it to others, we are also highly aware of the fact that we are being watched at. Another aspect of the theatricalisation of everyday life is the growing desire to be immersed in different worlds and experiences. Public​​space is increasingly staged and designed to produce these experiences. Within the context of the theatricalization of everyday life, public space can be observed and studied as scenography.70 The multiplication of staged and imagined realities can be felt most intensely in urban public spaces where layers

70 Scenography is the study and practice of all aspects of design in performance, originating from the field of dramaturgy/theatre studies. The practice comprises crafting stage environments or atmospheres, including scenic design, lighting design, sound design, costume design, set design, design of virtual spaces in games, etc.

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of tourism, entertainment, consumption, art, work, leisure, history, policies, and politics come together. It is in these spaces that we can see how people live between realities and how they cope with its complexity.

Merx & Bueno de Mesquita, 2015

The Dutch project plan Between Realities was set up by Platform Scenography for Prague Quadrennial of Performance Design and Space 2015. The project distinguishes between five different coping strategies: sheltering, fleeing, fighting, negotiating, and surrendering. Each of these strategies/practices entails a particular attitude towards reality, either a movement away from it (hide or shelter), an engagement with it (fight or negotiate) or a plunge into reality (surrender).71 Between Realities sought to explore public space from the perspective of scenography. For this, a number of artists and designers were invited to present their research in progress.72 I was invited as one of them. Between Realities is also the name of this case study, where I describe the design research that I performed during the Quadrennial. In continuation, the case study is described while highlighting the actants that are relevant for its further examination.

Figure 4.33 Poster that was hung at the entrance of the main venue of the quadrennial. Produced by Moniek Ellen and Tim Heijmans from design studio We-Are-Amp.

In five mapping sessions I sought to map —together with visitors of the Quadrennial— examples of fleeing, sheltering, fighting, negotiating or surrendering that could be encountered in Prague’s Old Town Square. Mapping the square from this perspective —where public space is presented as a work of scenography—creates opportunities for scenographers to (make) use (of) public space in their work which is a rather novel approach for this field. The mapping sessions took place over the course of three days and at two different moments of the day. Posters (see Figure 4.33) were hung in the vicinity of the main venue of the quadrennial with information about when and where people could gather to participate in the mapping sessions. The participating cartographers were all visitors of the quadrennial (see People > Research participants > Exhibition visitors in Figure 4.32).

71 These coping strategies were formulated by Platform-Scenography. The artists and designers that they had invited to this Quadrennial to represent the Dutch entry all worked with these words.

72 Platform-Scenography (P-S) is an analogue and digital network with the goal to make scenography as an independent design discipline visible. Platform Scenography won the gold medal at this Quadrennial for their curatorial concept. My contribution to this quadrennial consisted of two research projects, of which this case study is one.

At the gathering point, the participants were given a brief explanation about the research and about the functionality of the app. Mobile phones were handed out to participants who did not have one or did not want to use their own (see Tools > Hardware > Mobile phone in Figure 4.32), after which they could test the app for a couple of minutes. After this brief introduction, I walked with the participants to the Old Town Square. Once in the square (see Spaces > Physical space > Places in Figure 4.32) the participants were requested to observe their surroundings for a period of time from the perspective of the five earlier described coping strategies: sheltering, fleeing, fighting, negotiating, and surrendering. Examples of such strategies were then discussed. We can, for example, think of the tourists who get carried away by their surroundings which can be seen as a form of surrendering, the cleaners who position their cleaning machinery between the different crowds to demarcate territory which can be seen as a form of negotiating or fighting, or the way in which lovers move through the square in their own bubble which can be seen as a form of sheltering.

Categories of performers (the map’s legend) were collectively decided upon, after which the participants spread over the square and commenced the mapping simultaneously. The digital map interface enables the participants to select between ‘performer 1’, ‘performer 2’, ‘performer 3’, and ‘performer 4’ (see map interface in Figure 4.34). The participants had agreed upon what collective each performer of the app belongs to. For instance, performer 1 could be ‘tourists’, performer 2 could be ‘cleaners’, etc. Changing between performers in the app could be done at any time and as often as the participants wanted. Each mapping session took one hour.

Figure 4.34 The map interface that the participants worked with prior to selecting a performer from a drop-down menu (photo on the left) and the map as it is viewed after having made the selection (photo on the right). Photo on the left produced by Adela Vosickova. Photo on the right produced by Viktor Tuček.

The moment in which the mapping commenced, the participants were requested to follow individuals or groups from the selected collectives without leaving the square. By following the collective with the web app, a GPS inscription was marked on the collective map. The cartographers were also able to take pictures of the coping strategy of the collective that was being mapped. Each mapping session therefore had two maps as outcome: a map with GPS inscriptions (see map of Figure 4.35, and see Data > Participant data > GPS inscription in Figure 4.32) in which each colour represents a performer, and a map with the pictures with geo-coordinates incorporated (see map of Figure 4.36 and see Data > Participant data > Image file in Figure 4.32).

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Figure 4.35 (left) & Figure 4.36 (right) On the left, a screenshot demonstrating the map of Prague’s Old Town Square with GPS inscriptions that were ’drawn’ by the participants. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https:// performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks. On the right, a screenshot demonstrating the map with pictures that were taken by the participants. Hovering over the map, the picture appears that belongs to the dot that is being scrolled over, in this case of the category ’cleaners’. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal

The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 4.32) and Leaflet JavaScript library.

4.4.2 Co-creating the legend of public performers Similar to the previous workshop (Co-creating Reality), the categories for the legend were not defined by me, but were collectively decided upon by the participating exhibition visitors. However, in this case (different to the previous workshop), it was defined before the mapping session commenced upon setting foot on the square. This choice was steered by what the cartographers observed in the square at that specific moment of the day. As we can see in table 4.4, each mapping session involved a different combination of performers.

Date and time

Collective

Colour of line

Figure

June 23rd at 11 a.m

Officials

Turquoise

4.37

June 23rd at 11 a.m

Cleaners

Blue

4.37

June 23rd at 11 a.m

Umbrellas (of tourist guides)

Green

4.37

June 23rd at 11 a.m

Adolescents

Gold

4.37

June 24th at 11 a.m

Cleaners

Turquoise

4.40

June 24th at 11 a.m

Segway

Blue

4.40

June 24th at 11 a.m

Locals trying to get through

Green

4.40

June 24th at 11 a.m

Homeless

Gold

4.40

June 24th at 2 p.m

Officials

Turquoise

4.41

June 24th at 2 p.m

Segway

Blue

4.41

June 24th at 2 p.m

People selling things

Green

4.41

June 24th at 2 p.m

Babies

Gold

4.41

June 25th at 11 a.m

Officials

Turquoise

4.42

June 25th at 11 a.m

Lovers

Blue

4.42

June 25th at 11 a.m

Suitcases

Green

4.42

June 25th at 11 a.m

Animals

Gold

4.42

Table 4.4 The categories that were chosen for the legend in different Between Realties mapping sessions. Produced by workshop participants.

The definition of the legend thus depended on the participants, but also on the moment of the day that the mapping was performed. If we look at how the attribute legend was defined in these mapping sessions, we can say the following: depending on the moment of the day and what the cartographers would encounter in the square, an agreement was made on the collectives that were observed to be most interesting when it comes to the previously mentioned coping strategies.

4.4.3 Drawing with time The navigational aspect in this mapping comprises following collectives while the speed in which they move in the square becomes materialised in the thickness of the lines in the map with which the attribute ‘time’ is incorporated. Staying at a certain location for a longer period of time would leave a dot on the map and it would become thicker with time passing. This way, by observing the lines on the maps, we can clearly recognise the different ways of moving of the collectives. For example, looking at the map that was created in the second mapping session, we can see that the way ‘cleaners’ and ‘locals trying to get through’ occupy and move through this confined space is rather different, the former (turquoise colour of the map in Figure 4.37) occupying most central parts of the square and moving slowly while the latter (green colour of map in Figure 4.37) swiftly manoeuvring the obstacles in the square, leaving a thin trace. In the case of ‘officials’, for example, we can observe that these are stationed or move slowly while ‘segways’ move more abruptly, and ‘locals’ more quickly. The maps, this way, reveal something about how the different collectives relate to/react to one another.

It is through the thickness of the lines in the map and the pictures that were taken that we gain insight in the coping strategies that we were interested in. However, a cartographer mentioned that a picture did not always suffice as a means to add this context, and that a video in some cases would have been more interesting. As we will see later, I also used videos to document the cartographers with which I also saw an added value of working with video in this context.

There is another way in which the attribute time is examined in this mapping. Following someone’s footsteps requires of the cartographer to adjust his/her pace of walking to the person that (s)he is following. Similar to the case study Mapping Invisibility, following here is an embodied way of aligning with the other that can result in seeing things that we would normally not see or walking in places that we would normally not go to. In the next section, I will elaborate on the navigational aspects and its affordances ‘co-creating’ and ‘performing’.

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Figure 4.37 Collective mapping of Prague’s Old Town Square on June 23rd 2015 at 11:00 a.m. The following legend was applied: Turquoise = Officials, Blue = Cleaners, Green = Umbrellas (of tourist guides), Gold = Adolescents. Produced by workshop participants via Between Realities app. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks

4.4.4 Public performers as navigational guides Navigation in this case study is dictated by the mapped subjects (the performers). This way, strangers in the square, became the navigational guide for the cartographers. Navigation, here, was purposed with tracing the lines of the collectives so as to later analyse those movements in relation to movements of other collectives. Later, we will look at how this attribute relates to the affordances of the map app. The cartographers who participated in this first mapping session held on June 23rd 2015 at 2 p.m., had chosen the following categories/collectives: ‘officials’ (turquoise line), ‘cleaners’ (blue line), ‘umbrellas’ (green line), and ‘adolescents’ (gold line). On the map (see map of Figure 4.37) we can see that, according to the cartographers’ choices of who to follow, the highest concentration of mixed uses in the square of these collectives and at this moment of the day is located around the astronomical clock.

We can observe that ‘cleaners’ with their instruments are the ones who use the space most extensively, which is also backed up by the pictures that the cartographers took of this collective (some examples of pictures that were taken of this collective by the participants can be viewed in Figure 4.38)

Figure 4.38 Some of the pictures taken by the participants during mapping session Between Realities belonging to the category ’cleaners’. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal

The ‘umbrellas’ seem to have a meeting point at the centre of the square where they stand still, and they are to be found along the astronomical clock. The ‘adolescents’ appear to have two other meeting points in the square which are to be found on a side street in the lower part of the map, off the square. As can be viewed in the thickness of the lines, the ‘officials’ stand still in the square or move slowly. They gather mostly behind and in the vicinity of the astronomical clock. Once leaving the square they move faster, leaving a thinner trace on the map.

When it comes to the collective ‘officials’, something unexpected occurred. Halfway the mapping session, a military truck arrived at the square. The truck was parked in the centre of the square. Soldiers stepped out of the truck while carrying metal barricades and big posters under their arms (see pictures of cartographers capturing this moment in Figure 4.39). We can observe that prior to creating this barricade, the umbrellas were occupying this same spot (see green dots in the centre of the map of Figure 4.37). As the cartographers could not get closer to the ‘officials’, we can see on the map that the space around the barricades is mapped (see turquoise circle in the centre of the map of Figure 4.37).

Figure 4.39 Some of the pictures taken by the participants belonging to the category ‘officials’ during mapping session Between Realities. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal

The second mapping session was performed on June 24th 2015 at 11 a.m. The following collectives were chosen to map by the cartographers: ‘cleaners’ (turquoise line), ‘segway’ (blue line), ‘locals trying the get through’ (green line), and ‘homeless’ (gold line). Although for this map (see map of Figure 4.40) the least data points were collected, there are a number of things that can be observed. Again, according to choices of the cartographers, the highest concentration of mixed uses on the space for these collectives at this moment of the day is to be found in the vicinity of the astronomical clock. The ‘cleaners’ are, also here, the collective that is most dispersed over the square. The ‘locals trying to get through’ walk fast, leaving a thin trace on the map while they exit the square by using the lower east route on the map. Most ‘homeless’ that were observed by these cartographers gather in the centre at the only green and shaded spot in the square, a small park behind the astronomical clock. Looking at the pictures that were taken of this collective, we can see that there are benches located here where the homeless sit or lie down in the shade.

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Figure 4.40 Collective mapping of public performers in Prague’s Old Town Square on June 24th 2015 at 11 a.m. The following legend was applied: Turquoise = Cleaners, Blue = Segway, Green = Locals trying to get through, Gold = Homeless. Produced by workshop participants via Between Realities app. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https:// performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks

The third mapping (see map of Figure 4.41) was performed on the same day but at 2 p.m. This map contains considerably more data points than the one from the morning’s session. The cartographers chose to map the following collectives: ‘officials’ (turquoise line), ‘segway’ (blue line), ‘people trying to sell things’ (green line), and ‘babies in prams’ (gold line). Here, we can see that on the places that are mapped of ‘people trying to sell things’, small stalls are located. On the other side of the square where this collective has been mapped, restaurants are to be found. Possibly, there are people in the square, in front of the restaurants trying to lurk customers into their lunchrooms, taking into account that this mapping took place around lunch time. Tracing the blue line, we can see that the ‘segway’ collective moves through the square in a fast pace but with constant abrupt stops. The ‘officials’, according to the cartographers, are stationed in the centre and lower west side of the square, where they also move around between the other collectives.

Figure 4.41 Collective mapping of public performers in Prague’s Old Town Square on June 24th 2015 at 2 p.m. The following legend was applied: Turquoise = Officials, Blue = Segway, Green = People trying to sell things, Gold = Babies in prams. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping. net/btwreal/tracks

The last mapping (see map of Figure 4.42) was performed on June 25th 2015 at 11 a.m.

The collectively defined legend for this moment of the day was the following: officials (turquoise line), lovers (blue line), suitcases (green line), and animals (gold line). Upon seeing a dog parade in the square while the cartographers were discussing the categories for the legend (see Figure 4.43), this group chose to include animals as a category.

We can notice that, at the moment that this mapping was performed, a high presence of ‘lovers’ (the blue colour on the map of Figure 4.42) was observed by the cartographers.

We can see on the map that the love-birds approach the square in walking pace (leaving a trace of breadcrumbs on the map), but once setting foot in the square they move slower or stand still. They occupy most centric parts of the square and are especially present in the vicinity of the astronomical clock. In Figure 4.44 we can see some of the pictures that the cartographers had taken of the collective ‘lovers’.

Figure 4.42 Collective mapping of public performers in Prague’s Old Town Square on June 25th 2015 at 11:00 a.m. The following legend was chosen: Turquoise = Officials, Blue = Lovers, Green = Suitcases, Gold = Animals. Produced by workshop participants via Between Realities app. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks

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Figure 4.43 Two pictures of a woman parading her dog in the square while the legend was discussed by the cartographers.

Upon seeing this, the cartographers decided to add the category ’animals’ to the legend. Produced by author.

Figure 4.44 Some of the pictures that were taken by the participants when the collective ’lovers’ was mapped. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal

Furthermore, there is a high concentration of ‘suitcases’ mapped, but that is in the centric west side of the square. If we look at the pictures that were uploaded by the cartographers of this category, we can see a link between suitcases and (informal) seating options such as benches or items that are used for seating (see Figure 4.45). In this mapping session ‘officials’ are also mapped moving in-between the other collectives. What we can identify regarding the ‘animals’ collective, are the horses that are stationed at the upper-west side of the map, but also pigeons (visualised as bread crumbs on the map of Figure 4.42). As a result of the pigeons, new areas of the square were mapped, corners that the cartographers had not accessed previously.

Figure 4.45 Some of the pictures that were taken by the workshop participants when the collective ’suitcases’ was mapped. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/ btwreal

By superimposing the collected data of the four maps (see map of Figure 4.46), we can observe the most frequently used entry points to the square (the upper and lower west side) and the more dominant direction of walking of most of these collectives, according to the cartographers. An exception is made by ‘locals trying to get through’, ‘cleaners’, and sporadically some ‘officials’ that we can observe leaving the square on the lower east side of the map. The upper east side was rarely used as an entry point to the square by the mapped collectives with an exception of some ‘cleaners’ and ‘adolescents’. All according to the cartographers. The highest concentration of all collectives together is to be found around and in the vicinity of the astronomical clock. If we look at the four mapping sessions that were performed, we can see that the most chosen categories by the cartographers on these three days are ‘officials’ and ‘segway’, followed by ‘cleaners’, then ‘homeless’, ‘adolescents’, ‘umbrellas’, ‘suitcases’, ‘people trying to sell things’, ‘locals trying to get through’, ‘lovers’, ‘animals’, and ‘babies in prams’.

Figure 4.46 Map of Prague’s Old Town Square demonstrating the four maps combined of mapping sessions Between Realities. Turquoise = officials, cleaners, Blue = Segway, lovers, Green = umbrellas of tourist guides, local thoroughfares, people selling things, suitcases, Gold = animals, babies, homeless, adolescents. Produced by workshop participants. Retrieved December 5, 2020, from https://performativemapping.net/btwreal/tracks

4.4.5 Diverse ways of performing and different performing publics After each mapping session, the cartographers could share their findings and experiences in a discussion. Most of the participating cartographers work in the field of theatre (scenographers, costume designers, academics in the field of scenography), but none mentioned to have worked with maps in a performative way before, with which this approach was new to them. In this section, I look at the cartographers experiences through examining the performative affordances of the map app.

The act of following was experienced by some as an embodied and even theatrical way of moving through the square. As it was performed by different cartographers simultaneously in a confined public space, it made the cartographers feel allied in a performance.

A recurring topic that came back in the discussions was the question who ‘the public’ is in different settings. While the cartographers were defining the legend, in their experience they were the observers and other people in the square the performers. However, once they started the mapping session, this gradually changed, and it was experienced by some of the cartographers as if they became the performers together with the ones who they were following while the other people in the square became the public.

There is, furthermore, a performing affordance embedded in the mobile phone as a physical object. As everybody carries one and it is a common feature that we are used to seeing in public spaces, it enabled the cartographers to ‘hide behind it’ in moments that they felt uncomfortable following someone. By looking at one’s mobile phone, a distance was created to others. This metaphoric distance is a way to compensate for a lack of space that is encountered in the physical world. However, this can also be used intentionally,

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the way that was done by some of the cartographers in this mapping workshop. For this reason, the mobile phone in this case study, is not only represented as hardware but also as object in the diagram (see Tools > Objects > Mobile phone in Figure 4.32).

The comfort-zone that the object of the mobile phone produced is also aided by the fact that when an uncomfortable situation arose, the cartographer could pretend to be ‘lost’ in the physical space because (s)he was looking on his/her mobile phone and was thus present in another realm (see Figure 4.47). Another way that the cartographers mentioned to feel comfortable in following the strangers is in the notion that they were acting as a collective, as mentioned earlier, as if they were allied in a performance.

However, there were some specific collectives where some cartographers mentioned to feel a need to apply more distance. This was the case with the ‘lovers’, the ‘officials’ and the ‘segway’. In one of the discussions, it was argued that especially in the case of the ‘lovers’, the cartographers mentioned to feel like intruders and, therefore, automatically had the tendency to take more distance from these collectives (see Figure 4.48). This feeling of intrusion might be explained by the intimacy that is exhibited by this collective with which they as a couple —to a certain extent— ‘privatise’ public space. In the case of the ‘officials’, it was argued by one of the cartographers that it felt uncomfortable to follow or stay next to an official (see Figure 4.49), apart from the fact that some officials also placed barricades between themselves and others with which they created a distance themselves. In the case of the ‘segway’—which required of the cartographers to run now and then in order to keep up with their pace— it was mentioned by some of the cartographers that it felt uncomfortable changing one’s pace all of a sudden and seemingly without any reason. Here, the mobile phone trick did not work.

Figure 4.47 (left) , Figure 4.48 (middle), & Figure 4.49 (right) On the left, a picture of a participant/cartographer who was ‘hiding behind’ her phone during one of the mapping sessions. Produced by author. In the middle, a picture of a participant/cartographer who mentioned to feel uncomfortable entering the private space of the ‘lovers’. Produced by Tessel Schmidt. On the right, a picture of a participant/cartographer who mentioned to feel uncomfortable standing too long next to an ‘official’. Produced

by Tessel Schmidt.

In two mapping sessions, the cartographers mentioned that the followers became performers and the other people in the square/bystanders became the public (see People > Public > Passers-by in Figure 4.32). The cartographers mentioned that there were many moments where the fine line between cartographer as public and cartographer as performer became blurred. Navigating on this edge was an interesting experience according to most of the cartographers. This is, of course, aided by the fact that this exploration was performed by participants of the quadrennial who are sensitive to recognising these tensions and are used to moving in these domains.

When the collective ‘animals’ was mapped, something interesting occurred in relation to the affordance ‘performing’. The cartographers mentioned that following this collective (more specifically, the pigeons) made them ‘forget’ about others in the square; they were completely focused on not losing track of the pigeon, as “it was moving in a very

uncontrolled manner” according to one of the cartographers. Sometimes it also meant they had to run (see Figure 4.50). Changing one’s pace when following this collective was not experienced as uncomfortable like it did with the ‘segway’ collective, according to those cartographers. I filmed some of the cartographers while the animals were mapped (see Figure 4.51 and Figure 4.52). Upon showing them the videos in the discussion after the mapping they were quite surprised to watch their own behaviour. The cartographers mentioned that they only became aware of their surroundings when they would bump into someone, or if something was in the way. It also made the cartographers do things that they would otherwise not do, such as climb a statue, walk behind a fence, or walk a corner of the square that they would otherwise not access. Through mapping this collective, the role of cartographer following a performer changed. Here, in effect, the cartographer became a performer him/herself and others in the square became the public.

Similar to the way in which the map listener/reader in the case study Mapping Invisibility became visible to the public in his/her hesitant way of moving through public space, also here the map performer became visible to the public due to his/her mercurial way of moving. In this regard, by-standers (See People > Public > Passers-by in Figure 4.32) could potentially become involved in this performance.

Figure 4.50 Pictures of a participant/cartographer, mapping the collective ‘animals’. In this case it meant running after a pigeon. Produced by author.

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Figure 4.51 Stills from a video in which a participant/cartographer was following a pigeon. The stills were taken with similar intervals from the video so as to demonstrate the pigeons and the cartographers’ capricious way of moving.

Produced by author.

Figure 4.52 Stills from another video in which a participant/cartographer was following a pigeon. The stills were taken with similar intervals from the video so as to demonstrate the pigeons and the cartographers’ capricious way of moving. Produced by author.

4.4.6 Positioning and contributions In this case study, mapping was approached as a collective endeavour to examine the scenography of public space. The map app contains various affordances. In the first place, the participating cartographers could co-create the legend. They could then draw the trajectories of the collectives that they were following on the map by moving with their bodies while following those collectives. Furthermore, they could incorporate the attribute time in these lines; staying at a certain location for a longer period of time would leave a dot on the map, and it would become thicker with time passing. Another feature of the app was the option to take pictures so that more context could be added to the mapped collective and his/her coping strategy.

Working with a legend that is predefined prior to the mapping session —even though it was co-created by the participating cartographers— sometimes had a constraining effect in this case study. This was mainly the case because the words of the legend referred to collectives. Some of the cartographers mentioned that, during the mapping session, they would sometimes encounter a situation that they found interesting when it comes to tensions between the collectives, or that a collective could represent two categories (such as lovers and tourists). They were not able to take a picture

of it because it did not fall under one of the categories that they had defined. In this regard, it might have been more relevant to work with other kinds of categories, or to leave the categories more open as the choice to define collectives left little space for interpretations regarding what it means to ‘hide’, ‘shelter’, or ‘surrender’. A way that this could have been incorporated is by reserving more time for the definition of the legend and using a different approach. In the first part, instead of observing the square for 10 minutes, the participants could, for instance, take pictures of situations where coping strategies emerge and where tensions between collectives occur. Those pictures could then be discussed in the group, after which different kind of categories for the legend could be defined collectively. This form of co-creation would have allowed for a much richer contribution to the theme that Between Realities was working with.

In this case study, I did not participate in the mapping sessions with which I can’t speak of an own experience with the map app. My role in the beginning of the mapping sessions was that of facilitator and became that of ethnographer while the mapping sessions were performed. Being able to observe the cartographers allowed me to document their behaviours and that of other people in the square. There were moments in the mapping sessions when I observed other people being subtly confused, so as to what the relation between the different cartographers was and what they were doing in the square, which confirms the experience that the cartographers described to me regarding the changing publics. I took photos and videos of the cartographers which then I also used in the discussions with the cartographers after the mapping sessions as a means to trigger the discussions.

The cartographers are asked to observe the square and imagine the earlier described coping strategies among the different collectives. Through following and taking pictures of those collectives, the cartographers engage in their ways of moving and their ‘coping strategy’. The aim here is not necessary to intervene in this public performance but to engage in it. Thus, the initial position of this case study lies between ‘observe’ and ‘image’ (see Figure 4.53) while the aim is to ‘engage’. However, we could see that in some cases, indeed, an intervention took place, such as when cartographers started ‘forgetting’ about the public while following the pigeons, or when the roles between public and performers changed. Therefore, the end position lies between ‘engage’ and ‘intervene’.

Figure 4.53

Note: Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Between Realities. Adapted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.1080/237 3566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

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The initial quest of this case study was to conceptualise public space as a work of scenography and to examine different peoples coping strategies (sheltering, fleeing, fighting, negotiating, and surrendering) in this context. The way in which this was done was through collective mapping sessions where different collectives in the square were followed and photographed. The navigational guide for the cartographers was the collective that was being followed with which their gaze was directed by this collective. Moving one’s body to engage with ‘the other’ and the embodied way of mapping the subject matter is a valuable ethnographic approach in design research as described earlier in the examination of the affordances of the app.

Where the ethnographic approach could have been more interesting is by incorporating video in the participant data actants diagram, which now only includes GPS inscription and image files. Participating cartographers mentioned that taking pictures was not always sufficient when it comes to documenting the coping strategies, or as a means to document tensions in the square between collectives that they considered interesting.

In my documentation of the cartographers —where they were following the pigeons (mapping the ‘animals’ collective)— I also made use of videos. The videos allowed me to observe aspects in their way of moving, and the relation between the cartographers and the public that photos could not capture, with which I can subscribe to the added value of working with videos data in this case study.

In a similar vein, the ethnographic approach could have benefitted from another categorisation type for the legend. The categories that were defined collectively prior to the mapping sessions (comprising collectives) were not always useful when it comes to examining coping strategies, the research topic of Between Realities. The participants were able to define the collectives prior to each mapping session, but they did not engage in the question of what type of categories would be interesting to map in regards to the theme that was examined. The co-creation session to define the categories could, therefore, have been more elaborated in this case study, for instance, by allowing participants to take pictures of situations where coping strategies emerge and where tensions occur between collectives. Discussing those pictures could have produced more useful categories for the legend and a richer contribution to the research project Between Realities.

However, in order to have participants contribute in this process I would have needed more time. The quadrennial was not the right context to perform this kind of extended research as participants had a limited amount of time and visited the quadrennial with the idea to see works and not necessarily participate in them. The focus on this case study was, therefore, less on the co-creation of the legend (in contrast to the previous case study Co-creating Reality), but more on the ethnographic and performative aspects of collective mapping.

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4.5 What Moves You A case on collective mapping of feelings that circulate during Eindhoven’s Dutch Design Week

Figure 4.54 (part 1) Actants in the case study What Moves You. Overlay frame of Figure 4.54 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 4.54 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study What Moves You. Produced by author.

4.5.1 People, spaces, tools, data In October of each year, Dutch Design Week takes place in Eindhoven, the biggest design event in Northern Europe in which the work and ideas of more than 2,600 designers are presented to more than 350,000 visitors from the Netherlands and abroad. Over 110 locations across the city are used for Dutch Design Week to organise and facilitate exhibitions, lectures, award ceremonies, networking events, debates, and festivities. For Dutch Design Week 2015, visitors of the event were invited to participate in the cartographic exploration What Moves You; a collective real time mapping of the transformation of the city Eindhoven during the Dutch Design Week (DDW).73 DDW’s visitors

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More information about this research project can be viewed here: http://performativemapping.com/what-moves-you-acollective-realtime-mapping-of-eindhovens-dutch-design-week/

collectively became the authors/creators of a map that demonstrated the feelings that circulate during this event. The mapping was performed in October 2015 for the duration of four days.

Two months prior to the event, I had asked approximately twenty people (amongst which the five fellow researchers of the TRADERS project) to name at least five emotions that they had experienced during previous visits to the event or other art or design events that they had attended recently. Out of these words, I selected the emotions that were chosen by most participants. I considered it important to have the five basic emotions that are distinguished in psychology (jealousy, surprise, sadness, disgust, and shame) represented in this list. The words that I had received from the participants incorporated those five emotions. In the interpretive reflection of the dissertation (chapter 6), I will explain more in-depth how emotions are used in my PhD research. In that chapter, I will also draw relations with other design research projects that map emotions and explain how I conceptualise and approach emotions in my own research, both in this case study as well as in the case study Mapping Invisibility of chapter 3.

A couple of days prior to the event I hung posters in public spaces throughout the city, and I distributed flyers (see Figure 4.55) in different venues, including museums, exhibition halls, theatre venues, bars, and cafes.

Figure 4.55 Invitation to participate in Mapping What Moves You. The flyer was handed out at venues throughout the city during Dutch Design Week. Produced by Niek Kosten.

During the event, visitors/participants (see People > Research participants > Exhibition visitors in Figure 4.54) could use their own mobile phone (see Tools > Hardware > Mobile phone in Figure 4.54) to assign feelings to places and venues they were visiting in Eindhoven. The visitors were asked to use a web-app74 (see Tools > Infrastructure > Geo technology in Figure 4.54) for this purpose. In the app, a word could be chosen from the legend (see Tools > Software > Self-designed apps in Figure 4.54), visualised as a dropdown menu comprising these words: alienated, annoyed, anxious, bored, confused, curious, disgusted, disappointed, embarrassed, enchanted, excited, frustrated, moved, overwhelmed, and surprised. After selecting the emotion, a picture could be taken (see Tools > Software > Built-in apps in Figure 4.54) of the ‘thing (object, place, person, etc.)

74 Retrieved April 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/ddw/participate

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that triggered this emotion. The submitted data (see Data > Participant data > Image file in Figure 4.54) was uploaded to a digital map. This map (see Spaces > Virtual space > Digital map in Figure 4.54) was updated in real time to include the continuously stream of incoming data (see Tools > Infrastructure > Mobile internet connection in Figure 4.54).

Using a heat map I demonstrate the areas of the city —comparing the different DDW venues— that are more or less emotionally-laden according to the participants and what emotions are felt where. Additionally, through the use of pictures, the participants demonstrate what the triggers of those emotions are and if it is felt collectively or not.

For example, many pictures of the same object would tell us that the work in question triggers an emotion that is felt collectively, but in case a work has many different adjectives linked to it, it tells us that exhibition visitors experience differing emotions in regards to the same work.

By hovering over the map, the chosen emotions are visualised of a selected area. The bigger the word, the more often this emotion was chosen by the different visiting participants.75 For example, in the area of the map of Figure 4.56, ‘excited’ was the word that was chosen by different people most often for this area, followed by ‘surprised’ and ‘curious’. By zooming-in, it is possible to access deeper layers of the map and retrieve the emotions that are registered less frequently by the participants. This way, the user is given the ability to retrieve more detailed information.

Figure 4.56 Screenshot of the map interface of What Moves You, depicting an area of the city of Eindhoven. Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map

Zooming-in completely and moving the map with one’s mouse, a grey circle is shown (see map of Figure 4.56). The emotions that are chosen in the area within this circle are visualised; in this case we do not hover over the map with our mouse, but we move the map with our cursor so that the area that is covered changes while the grey circle remains at a fixed position. The bigger the emotion appears, the more times this word was chosen by different participants. If we click on the word, a new window opens with the pictures that were taken by the different participants who chose this emotion for that specific location. The photos indicate the triggers for the particular emotion in that 75 This was the map that was updated in real time: https://ddw.performativemapping.net/ddw/map. Retrieved April 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/ddw/map.

location of the map.

During the first week that the event took place, I walked in Eindhoven between the different venues with a measuring wheel (see Tools > Objects > Measuring wheel in Figure 4.54) on which a projector was mounted, this way, doubling as presentation device (see Tools > Hardware > Screen/Projector in Figure 4.54). Throughout the week, the real time map was projected on different buildings in various places in the city. I also carried a device which tracked my movement so that exhibition visitors (see People > Public > Exhibition visitors in Figure 4.54) could find me anytime of the week if they wanted to discuss the mapping in progress (see Figure 4.57). At the end of the first week, I gave a presentation about the research and the map at MU Art Centre for the daily design talkshow Create Out Loud.

Figure 4.57 Screenshot demonstrating the map projection that followed the itinerary of the measuring wheel (left) and photo where the map is discussed with two passers-by. Going to a website, visitors could see where the measuring wheel was located (this map was updated in real time) and visit me to discuss the research and view the map projection. Screenshot on the left produced by author. Photo on the right produced by Karianne Rygh.

The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 4.56) and Leaflet JavaScript library.

Approximately 116 participants/exhibition visitors of Dutch Design Week participated.

Rinze Borm and Karianne Rygh were involved in this project as the designers and makers of the measuring wheel. Karianne Rygh and Elise Weegels assisted with logistical issues and documentation. I was involved in this case study as designer of the app, as performer, and as ethnographer. Iván Fuciños Calle was the developer of the app. In continuation, the case study is analysed while highlighting the actants that are relevant for its further examination.

4.5.2 Co-creating the legend of emotions: the experience of Dutch Design Week mapped by visitors In this section, I focus on how the map’s legend (the emotions) is worked out while the mapping is performed, and how it is co-created through uploading pictures to the collective map. The pictures tell us something about the ‘thing’ (objects, works, places, 149

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etc.) that visitors were triggered by to experience the emotion in question. Depending on how many of the same pictures are shown, it will tell us about subjective or collective feelings in relation to the photographed works/objects. For example, if many pictures of the same object are shown, it tells us that there is a collective felt response to the same work. On the other hand, a work that has many different emotions linked to it, tells us that the participants experience a diverse range of emotions with the same work.

The web app comprises 116 entries of diverse users. A heat map demonstrates the kind of emotions that are felt in certain areas or venues in the city during this event. The map of Figure 4.58 demonstrates that the three main areas where the event took place — Strijp S, Design Academy Eindhoven and Sectie C— are highlighted. The map depicts the places that are more or less emotionally laden according to the participating visitors, from blue (places or venues with few emotions linked to it, or places that begin to be mapped) to red (strongly emotionally-laden places or venues).

Figure 4.58 Screenshot of map of Eindhoven during mapping What Moves You on day 4 of the event. The heat-map depicts the places in the city that were more or less emotionally-laden during this event, from blue (emotions that start to be mapped) to red (strongly emotionally-laden places). This map clearly highlights the three main areas where the event took place (Strijp S, Design Academy Eindhoven, and Sectie C). Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map

Sectie-C was the first venue to place itself on the map, and it stayed the venue where most entries were registered. In the centre of the city and at Design Academy Eindhoven, very few people participated at the beginning of the week, but this changed halfway through the week; Design Academy Eindhoven placed itself prominently on the map on the fourth day of the event.76 The different venues of Strijp S participated throughout the whole week, but more sporadically and with fewer people. There are some other areas that also participated in the map, but with fewer entries than those.

Zooming-in on Design Academy Eindhoven, we can see that ‘curious’ was the most chosen word for this venue (see map of Figure 4.59). If we look at this area, we can see that the following emotions were chosen: ‘curious’ with 14 entries and all pictures of 76 The evolving map throughout the week of the event can be viewed via this animation: https://ddw.performativemapping.net/ ddw/animation. Retrieved, April 1, 2021 from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/ddw/animation

different works associated to this word, ‘moved’ with 7 entries (see map of Figure 4.61), ‘overwhelmed’ with 4 entries and 2 people having taken a picture of the crowd, ‘excited’ with 3 entries, ‘surprised’ with 2 entries, ‘frustrated’ with 2 entries, ‘anxious’ with 2 entries, ‘disgusted’ with 1 entry, and ‘confused’ and ‘embarrassed’ both with 1 entry.

Figure 4.59 (left) & Figure 4.60 (right) On the left, a screenshot of real time mapping What Moves You, zooming in on Design Academy Eindhoven.

The map is a visualisation of the whole area in and around the venue. The most chosen emotion for this area is ’curious’. On the right, pictures taken by DDW visitors in relation to the word ’curious’ in the area of Design Academy Eindhoven. None of the works are the same with which we can observe a wide variety of triggers for this emotion. We can see that also this project (the measuring wheel that is the 11th picture) was placed under this category by a participant. Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map.

Looking at a selection of the pictures that were uploaded by the participants who mapped Dutch Design Week, we can see that with the emotion ‘curious’ at this venue, none of the photographed works are the same with which we can observe a variety of triggers for this emotion among the participants (See Figure 4.60). The measuring wheel of this research project was also photographed by one participant under this category.

If we look at the selection of pictures that were uploaded of the emotion ‘moved’ at this venue we can see that the same work was photographed by different participants (See Figure 4.62). We can also see, that there is one work at this venue that falls both under the category ‘moved’ and ‘curious’ according to different cartographers, and again, another similar work that has different emotions —‘confused’ and ‘embarrassed’— linked to it according to different cartographers (see Figure 4.63).

Figure 4.61 (left) & Figure 4.62 (right)

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On the left, a screenshot of real time mapping What Moves You. The map is a visualisation of a part of the area where Design Academy Eindhoven is located. Here, the most chosen word is ‘moved’. Other emotions that appear in this selected area are: ‘disgusted’, ‘annoyed’, ‘enchanted’, ‘embarrassed’, and ‘confused’. On the right, pictures taken by DDW visitors in relation to the word ‘moved’ in the area of Design Academy Eindhoven. Two photos are taken of the same object by different people. Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app.

Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map

Figure 4.63 Pictures taken by visitors of the same design research project at Design Academy Eindhoven but with different emotional triggers linked to it, in this case ‘confused’ and ‘embarrassed’. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map

Zooming-in on Strijp S (one of the participating DDW venues), the first thing we notice is that the emotions in this area are much more dispersedly mapped (see maps of Figure 4.64). This is in contrast to the area in the centre which was much more concentrated (see Figure 4.59), which can be explained by the fact that most mapped items in this area are in the same building, namely, Design Academy Eindhoven. ‘Excited’ was the most mapped emotion in the area of Strijp S with 20 entries (see maps of Figure 4.64); followed by ‘curious’ with 3 entries; then ‘moved’, ‘enchanted’, and ‘confused’ with 2 entries; and ‘annoyed’, ‘overwhelmed’, ‘bored’, and ‘surprised’ with 1 entry.

Figure 4.64 Two screenshots of real time mapping What Moves You. The map on the left is a zoom-in of the area Strijp S. This map shows the whole area. The most chosen word for this area is ‘excited’. On the right a zoom-in of MU Art Centre (a venue located in Strijp S) which has the most variety of emotions linked to it. Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map

In the Strijp S area, the pictures that were uploaded by different participants of the category ‘excited’ involve several times the same work (see Figure 4.65) while the installation at MU Art Centre has a diverse range of emotions linked to it (see Figure 4.66).

The pictures and subscriptions reveal that the installation was experienced as ‘exciting’, ‘moving’, ‘confusing’, and ‘boring’. Later, I discovered that the programme for the space

was changing throughout the day, and the installation was only “in use” during the evenings. It might be one of the reasons why this venue was experienced so diversely.

Figure 4.65 Picture of works that were taken by the participants in Strijp S that were associated with the word ‘excited’. The first and the third pictures are taken of the same object revealing that those different participants feel the same about this work. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map

Figure 4.66 Picture of works that were taken by the participants in Strijp S. The installation at MU Art Centre was associated with the words ‘excited’, ‘moved’, ‘confused’, and ‘bored’. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map

When it comes to Sectie C (another of the participating venues of DDW), my experience was that the visitors in this area were much more inclined to participate in the collective mapping. This was not only backed up by the number of participants in this area throughout the whole week, but also by the reactions that I had received on the presentations/projections of the map in this area. It can be explained by the fact that Sectie C is more aimed at art/design professionals, whereas Design Academy Eindhoven and Strijp S are more intended for the general public who come to the event with the idea to be entertained. Some artists and designers who have their studio space in Sectie C were interested to see the map in order to find out how their work was perceived by the anonymous public. The map (see Figure 4.67) shows us that the most chosen word for this area was ‘excited’ with 12 entries; followed by ‘moved’ and ‘surprised’ with 4 entries; then ‘curious’ with 3 entries; followed by ‘confused’, ‘overwhelmed’, ‘enchanted’, and ‘alienated’ with 2 entries; and ‘disgusted’ with 1 entry.

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Figure 4.67 Screenshots of the map interface hovering over the area Sectie C. The bigger the word appears on the map, the more often it was chosen by different participants. Produced by DDW visitors via What Moves You app. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw.performativemapping.net/map

If we move the map with the mouse, the grey circle remains fixed (see maps of figure 4.67). The words that were chosen by the visitors now only appear within the grey circle.

We can see that the most often used emotion in this area of the city is ‘excited’. However, we can also see that the west side of the map includes other emotions that are also frequently chosen —such as ‘surprised’, ‘moved’, ‘curious’, and ‘alienated’— while on the east side of the map other emotions are less frequently chosen and the emotion ‘excited’ predominates.

Looking at what excites the participating visitors most in Sectie C, we can see that there is one work in particular that protrudes. This work was photographed by different participants (see Figure 4.68). We can also observe that different participants both feel alienated with the same work at this venue (see Figure 4.69).

Figure 4.68 (left) & Figure 4.69 (right) On the left, pictures taken by Dutch Design Week visitors in Sectie C area. All these works triggered excitement with the participating visitors. Three pictures show the same work, taken by different people. On the right, pi-

ctures that were taken by Dutch Design Week visitors in Sectie C area. In both cases the same work triggers the feeling of alienation with different visitors. Produced by DDW visitors. Retrieved May 1, 2021, from https://ddw. performativemapping.net/map

4.5.3 Collective altering of the map’s frame Different to the previous case studies of this chapter, What Moves You includes the co-creation of the map’s frame in its analysis. It is a choice that is afforded by the digital interface, and that could be adapted by each individual participant in real time and for the duration that the mapping took place. Where in Co-creating Reality, the frame was predetermined (I decided on the itineraries that the students had to walk), in What Moves You the participants were the ones to choose what parts of the city (what areas and venues) to place under the denominator Dutch Design Week. For example, if it had not been for the participants in Sectie C or Strijp S, the map would only have shown the area where Design Academy Eindhoven is located. Furthermore, the digital interface affords an adaptation of the map’s frame throughout the mapping practice; a place that might be positioned in the middle of the map at the beginning, might move towards the periphery as the mapping evolves. This is due to new places or venues that are added to the map along the way. In this regard, the map is a practice of framing Dutch Design Week collectively, and one that is constantly subject to change depending on the visitors who participate in the mapping. As a consequence, the scale that is applied to the map changes accordingly, depending on the areas that are included in the map.

Thus, the map that the participant interacts with constantly adapts its frame and scale to include the input of all participants.77 Taking into consideration that this case study sought to contest existing maps of Dutch Design Week and the maps of the organisers of this event, it was relevant to have the participants determine what should and what shouldn’t fall under the dominator Dutch Design Week. Giving participants the choice on what places and items to include in the map’s frame —which also includes some items that do not necessarily belong to the official Dutch Design Week event (such as a studio space of an artist in Strijp S)— was, therefore, an important decision.

4.5.4 The performative affordances of What Moves You The performative affordances in this case study lie in different stages/phases of the mapping; in the way that the map is created by participants, in the way that the map is presented to the public during the event, and in the way in which the map is to be interacted with.

When it comes to the way the map is made, the performative affordances lie in the earlier described collective way of framing the event; the map’s frame adapts to each cartographer’s contribution to the map with which the visitors/cartographers decide upon what to place under the denominator of Dutch Design Week. It also lies in the way that one’s choice of words to map demonstrates the magnitude of the emotion that is linked to places and venues. The cartographers have a say in what words to add to the map and what words to leave out, for instance, by selecting a word from the legend, an

77 Although the map app was designed and built this way that the scale would adapt to the participants input, due to technical complications with the map app after the first day of use I had to remove this option and the scale was not any more adjusted.

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emotion is added to the map, or it can become bigger if it had already been selected previously by someone else. However, some words of the legend will never be used and thus remain unmapped. In this way, the map adapts to the users input both in framing and in magnitude of emotions in relation to places and venues.

When it comes to the performative affordances in the presentation, I made the choice to walk with a measuring wheel between the different venues and project the map — with a mobile projector— on walls and buildings (both in public spaces as well as within venues). This performative approach of presenting the map was a means to incentivise different publics to participate either in the map or in discussions about the map. I often received the question of what venue I belonged to which created a bridge to talk about this bottom-up mapping approach. This performance was, therefore, successful in triggering discussions and gaining insights from the public about their ideas of this mapping approach for research. Later (in the section where I talk of inter-facing as affordance), I will analyse how the projections of the map, in this way, also afforded an inter-facing between different publics.

When it comes to the performative affordances of the map in the way that the maps are interacted with, it is through hovering over the map that we can view the emotions that correspond to the area that is being hovered over, and it is through clicking on the emotions that we can dive deeper into the triggers of those emotions. To get knowledgeable, certain actions —hovering, scrolling, zooming-in, zooming-out, clicking— are required. Relations in the map are purposefully not made easily legible —like is often sought to achieve in analogue maps— but ask to be explored and interacted with. Thus, the knowledge that the map provides depends on one’s willingness to engage with the map and explore it. Different to analogue maps, this is more of a processual experience to knowledge acquisition.78 In my PhD research, I also describe this as performative.

Where in Mapping Invisibility the performative approach lies in the embodied interaction and the willingness to engage with the ‘other’ experience of the city, in this case study the interaction is not embodied as such, but it requires actions from the ‘reader’ and a willingness to engage with knowledge that lies ‘hidden’ in the map.

4.5.5 Performing the map with the public On the day that the event started, I walked between the different venues of DDW for three hours a day and for the duration of four days. While doing so, I carried a measuring wheel with me on which a projector was mounted. While the projector doubled as a presentation device of which live projections of the evolving map could be shared with the public, the measuring wheel can be seen as an analogy to measuring the experience of the event as it is lived by the visitors. The object made the digital component of this research tangible, and part of a performance in which DDW visitors were incentivised to participate. I was especially interested in questioning —together with the public— to what extent emotions could be mapped collectively while finding out what people’s experience of DDW was. Using a tangible object and a projected map (see Figure 4.70),

78 Grootens (2021) describes the processual approach of map-making as one that “questions the ontological foundation of the map and regards the map as mapping, as a process that is never complete” (p. 92). In his dissertation, he uses Google Maps as example of a processual approach to mapping.

I sought to make the more invisible digital layer of this research visible and accessible.

Furthermore, the idea was that seeing a direct result of one’s actions could create incentives for participation. This was especially relevant for the context where this mapping was presented, as visitors of Dutch Design Week come to the city with the idea to be shown design objects.

Figure 4.70 Photos of measuring wheel doubling as presentation device. The picture on the left shows the object. The wheel was designed and made by Rinze Borm and Kariane Rygh in their studio Mintfabriek in Tholen (Zeeland). On the right we can see a projection of the map on the wall at the entrance of Design Academy Eindhoven. Produced

by Karianne Rygh.

Throughout the week, the real time map was projected on walls and buildings in different places and venues in the city (see Spaces > Physical space > Places and Spaces > Physical space > Venues in Figure 4.54). A strategic choice was made not to present the map as forming part of an institution (for instance, Design Academy Eindhoven), but to manoeuvre the map between the venues through temporarily projecting the map on the walls of those institutions (see Figure 4.70 and 4.71). This way, I sought to make an analogy with collectively created graffiti art. As I was seeking to contest the maps that were made by the organisers of the event it did not seem congruent to produce a map as coming from an institution. Furthermore, by walking with the mobile projector in the city, I could reach different kinds of publics and discuss the map with those ‘extended’ publics (see People > Public > Passers-by in Figure 4.54).

Figure 4.71 Photos demonstrating how I walked in different parts of the city with the measuring wheel and how I projected the map on different venues in order to invite different kinds of publics to participate and discuss the map collectively. Produced by Karianne Rygh.

The map projections did not function that well as incentives for participation. The first three days were especially challenging around the area of Design Academy Eindhoven (the leading design institute as participating venue of DDW). Visitors were rather more interested in seeing the results of the map than in participating in it. Therefore, ‘exhibition visitors’ are mentioned in Figure 4.56 as both participants (indicating the ones who took a more active role) and public (indicating the moments who took a more passive role). There are various explanations possible for the more passive attitude of 157

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the visitors that I perceived at this venue. First of all, this research project stood in stark contrast with the ‘finished’ products that were presented at Design Academy Eindhoven.

The mapping in progress does not communicate the same way as a chair or a bicycle does; it requires more time to understand or to get involved in. Also, the overwhelming number of works that are presented at this venue make it challenging to have visitors participate in a research project which requires time and another mind-set. Moreover, my experience of this public is very different to that of conference attendees (where other mapping sessions for this research were performed), or specific communities, or students that I worked with. In the case of conference attendees, they are professionals and familiar with a research context while (also in the case of undocumented, for example, or university students) it is in their interest to participate in the research project. DDW visitors are often non-professionals on a day excursion, who paid for their tickets and expect to be entertained or shown things.

Instead of having the map projection as incentive for participation in contributing in the map creation, inter-facing became an unexpected affordance of the map projection. In continuation, I discuss this affordance in this context.

4.5.6 Inter-facing between different publics Inter-facing in this case study happens in two ways. One way in which inter-facing is proposed is as a means to produce a map from the visitor’s perspective that can contest maps that are created by the organisers of this event. Similar to the case study Mapping Invisible Makers —where the maps that were created by the students can be seen as a form of inter-facing between maps that represent the formal makers (top-down approach) and maps that represent the informal makers (bottom-up approach) of the city— in this case study, the maps that are created by the visitors can be seen as a form of inter-facing between the official maps (top-down approach) and the unofficial map (bottom-up approach) of Dutch Design Week.

Another way in which inter-facing took place in this case study is in the ideas about ICT (Information and Communication Technologies) in design in the discussions with the visitors. Although the map projection was less successful as an incentive for participation, what it did achieve in this context was fierce discussions about the use of ICT in design research. At the design institute, I became entwined in a number of them (amongst other with a teacher of the institute). Some of the things that were mentioned in the discussions with people at the institute: “I don’t use internet outside of my house because I don’t trust it.”; “I only use internet at home. If I had it on my phone, I would be on Facebook all day.”; “I have a very old phone”; “I don’t want to use my own phone for this.”; “The digital is not my thing”. What is interesting to note in light of these remarks is that Eindhoven profiles itself as a high-tech city. The project, at some point, seemed to turn into an ethnographic exploration to uncover aspects regarding user participation with ICT rather than a visitors-produced map of the event. As a result, the map did not have enough diverse users to produce a map that could be held against maps of the event that are, for instance, created by market parties or organisers of the event.

However, it did give me insight in data-literacy among the public and clarified the diverse incentives for participation within this user group. At the venue Sectie C, differently, more people were inclined to participate throughout the whole week. Also, several artists and designers who have their studio spaces there were keen to find out how their

works were perceived by the public as they expected more honest answers from the anonymous users of the app (see Figure 4.72). As it turned out, the projected map was approached as a conversation piece (see Figures 4.73 and 4.74), more so than as incentive to participate in it, with which this map can also be seen as a form of inter-facing between these different publics.

Figure 4.72 (left), Figure 4.73 (middle), & Figure 4.74 (right) On the left, presenting real time map What Moves You to a designer who has his studio space in Sectie C. The designer wanted to know if his work was mapped and what emotions were subscribed to it. In the middle, presenting real time map What Moves You in Sectie C. Together with a visitor I discussed the pictures of works that were taken by the participating visitors and the emotions that were linked to it. On the right, presenting real time map What Moves You at Design Academy Eindhoven. Together with a visitor I discussed the map and if emotions could be measured this way. Photos taken by Karianne Rygh.

4.5.7 Positioning and contributions Although the aim of this case study was to have the input of the visitors as data for the map, incentivising the DDW public turned out far more challenging. Handing out flyers and posters was clearly not enough in this context. In general, this public had little time and wanted to see as many works and visit as many venues as possible. To reach more participants, a bigger PR campaign would have been necessary. In the next chapter where I present the case study Walk Away, I also depended on people’s input for the map creation, but in this case I had an organisation behind me to help me promote the project. It resulted in much more participation and it demonstrates the importance of having a good PR campaign behind a research project in such a context.

What this case study has illustrated is that maps enable to “assemble people and things” (Adriaanse, 2019, p. 28) with which they prove to be productive in design research and relevant for the societal domain. In this case study, the societal value lies in the creation of maps that are constructed by the visitors as opposed to the ones that are presented by the organisers of this event, with which visitors were given the opportunity to frame the event and decide about which places or venues should fall under it and in what way.

The potentially empowering co-creative and performative affordances of the app in this context have been examined and discussed.

Looking at the action matrix of Figure 4.75, the initial position of this case study lies between ‘observe’ and ‘imagine’. Visitors were encouraged to observe the existing maps and imagine what other map of DDW they could construct. In this regard, they were invited to ‘engage’ in this collective real time mapping of Dutch Design Week. My initial idea was to ‘intervene’ in and thus produce a ‘change’ in the dominant discourse that is presented by organisers of the event regarding what venues and places fall under the

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denominator DDW. On the one hand, the intervention consisted of a map that was made and updated by the visitors. On the other hand, I have learned that this event was not the right context to examine my map app. Therefore, the projection of this map is to be seen as an ‘intervention’ as it ignited discussions amongst the public about the use of ICT in participatory design research. I have learned about the troublesome relation between ICT and participatory design research and, consequently, the lack of ICT use in this domain, which confirms the relevance of this PhD for the design research community.

Figure 4.75

Note: Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study What Moves You. Adapted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.1080/237 3566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

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5. DIGITAL PERFORMATIVE MAPPING AND EDUCATION The previous chapter examined the potentials of digital mobile mapping as participatory and ethnographic approach for research. Furthermore, it looked at the potentials of the map interface as a means to create maps collectively. In this quest, the case studies of the previous chapter both sought to make a contribution to (design) research as well as (some) serving the societal domain. In the case studies presented below, the self-designed map apps are examined for their potential to shed new light on spatial theories. In this chapter, the map apps are used in an educational context and are examined as a means to collective and situated learning. Thus, the case studies in this chapter predominantly seek to make a contribution to education.

5.1 Locative media, play, and spatial theory I often visited my grandmother. When I would arrive at her home, she would roll over towards me with her wheelchair. So she was actually in a metric space: there was a distance between her and me that she bridged in order to get to me. But she couldn’t see very well anymore, and she kept looking at me through her glasses and would say, “You have grown, Michel, you have changed.” Then, she no longer looked at me from a metric space, but from a perspective. Moreover, while she was talking to me, she was always knitting, making straight and reverse stitches without looking at her hands. Her fingers were in a topological space of touch, like the mathematician Henri Poincaré stated. My grandmother actually lived in three spaces: a Cartesian in regards to her wheelchair, a Leibnizian in regards to her perspective, and a Poincarien in regards to her knitwear.79 Legros, 2019, p. 49

According to Michel Serres, we all live in the situation of his grandmother; due to GPS technology and mobile connectivity we all move in different directions, but stay connected in the same space. Serres contends that it is because of these technologies that the philosophy of Descartes has become obsolete (ibid) as we do not live in the same kind of space as he did. The same way Serres distinguishes between Cartesian (the metric space), Leibnizian (the space of perspective), and Poincarien (the space of touch) space, my point of departure is that the Cartesian logic of map-making conditions us in our way of thinking about space. With the case studies in this chapter, I examine the self-designed map apps for their potential to approach cartography from a different angle, that is; how embodied interaction with the digital map can produce new perspectives on spatial theories. Furthermore, I examine how the (inter)relation between virtual space and physical space in map apps can contribute to change (ingrained) perspectives on these domains.

In this chapter, three case studies (Walk Away, Near Games, and Performative Mapping Game) and five map apps (Walk Away, You Are Near, We Are Near, We Are Nearer, and

79 The fragment comes from an interview with Michel Serres. The article that was published in the Dutch Filosofie Magazine (2019). This was a shortened version of a longer interview with Michel Serres. The original interview is to be found in the French Philosophie Magazine (2016).

Performative Mapping Game) are presented. Each case study looks at: 1. The experience and use of the map app(s) with a specific focus on how the perception of physical space changes during and after use of the map app(s).

Here, I examine the potentials of the app(s) as a way of ‘inter-facing’ between the physical and the virtual. Furthermore, I look at the potentials of the app(s) to include perspectives and experiences from the lived space to cartography with which I move this practice from a conceived to that of a lived space.

2. The affordance to play with the map in a collective manner. The specific focus here lies on how the perception of physical and virtual space changes during and after use of the map apps. Moreover, I examine how the dynamics between participants and non-participants change during game play (how non-players become participants, how participants view non-players as the game evolves, etc).

When it comes to the first point, I make use of spatial theories of Henri Lefebvre and Michel de Certeau (those were presented in chapter 2). The reason that I use these — somewhat exhausted— theories is because they are still often used in research that involves spatial practice, and they enable me to demonstrate the affordances of the digital map interface as a means to shed new light on those theories. The interaction between physical and virtual practices in the self-designed map apps in this chapter, provides novel perspectives and experiences on the presented theories with which the case studies predominantly serve the educational domain. In effect, the apps were used in workshop mode in educational and academic setting, where students wrote essays about their experiences with the apps as a means to reflect on the previously mentioned theories. Another scenario where one of the apps was used, was in an exhibition in Amsterdam where people could use the app for the duration of three months.

When it comes to the second point, most of the case studies in this chapter look at the affordance ‘playing’, and more specifically, at how the app affords to play with the map in a collective manner (in chapter 6, I reflect on what this entails for knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer). To define play, I use a scale that goes from structured play (Ludus) to free play (Paideai), and I look at the (evolving) dynamics between different actants on this scale, amongst others, the changing dynamics between players and non-players. In my analysis, I use theories of play presented by Johan Huizinga, Roger Caillois, Katie Salen & Eric Zimmerman, and media theorist Sybille Lammes to inform my research practice. In continuation, I use various sources (own field notes, students field notes, observations, videos, interviews with users of the app, and student essays)80 to find out about the experience with the apps, and examine them in their potential for playful and participatory approaches to knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer.

This way, I was able to collect and compare data from many different sources. In this quest, I distinguish between play as a means to engage critically with maps and spatial theories, and other apps as ‘jolly’ game-play practices81 that do not afford this kind of scrutiny. Later on, I will continue to elaborate on this distinction, but first, I will give a definition of play that is relevant for my analysis.

80 The map apps were used for four consecutive years (2015-2019) by Utrecht University students for the course Mobile Communication, with Jasper van Vught as academic tutor.

81 Here, I refer to chapter 1 of this dissertation where I problematised De Waal’s idea of play in artistic public space projects.

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5.1.1 Theories of play Johan Huizinga was a Dutch historian and one of the most important scholars to describe the theory of play in his 1938 book Homo Ludens. According to Huizinga, play takes place in its own time and space and is established by own rules, roles, environments, and situations. Thus, play is an activity that stands separate from the ‘real’ world and is characterised by a ‘magic circle’. The magic circle is what distinguishes the playful from the ordinary (Montola, 2009); as a player, you temporarily and voluntarily step into that world with which it gives you the opportunity to take on a certain role. In order for someone to step into the magic circle (s)he needs to have a playful attitude; “a disposition one enters into when interacting with the bounded space of the game” (Calleja, 2015, p. 211). Roger Caillois (2001) —a French philosopher who has elaborated on Huizinga’s ideas of play— goes further to distinguish between ‘free’ play from structured play, what he described as Ludus on the one hand and Paideia on the other. Caillois contends that Paideia refers to spontaneous play activities with no rules while Ludus refers to games with explicit rules and roles.

With the surge of virtual space and pervasive games, many new theories about play have emerged. Virtual Space is a computer-simulated place or environment with which users can interact via an interface, while pervasive games are games where the gaming experience is extended to the physical world, or where the world in which the game takes place blends with the physical world. Virtual space and pervasive games did not exist as such in the time that Huizinga wrote his book, with which Huizinga’s view of the magic circle has been revised considerately. For example, Salen & Zimmerman (2004) conceptualise Huizinga’s magic circle more metaphorically. They view it as a conceptual boundary between play and reality. Conflicts that take place within the magic circle are artificial according to them, and behaviour that is accepted within that circle would not be accepted outside of it or it would be seen as strange. Salen & Zimmerman, therefore, characterise play as a free movement within a given structure. Markus Montola (2005) —a Finish scholar and game designer— contends that pervasive games have one or more characteristics that expand the magic circle on a spatial, temporal, or social level, and that therefore, the boundaries between what is considered play space and what falls outside of it has become blurred, with which he claims that Huizinga’s view of the magic circle has become, to some extent, obsolete as a way of thinking about play. For example, in pervasive games, objects from the real world or people who do not participate in the game can, at some point, be(come) included in the game (space).

The reason that the presented games in this chapter can also be seen as pervasive is due to the fact that there are no set rules or definitions as to what the game space (or game board) is. As a matter of fact, what spaces and objects are included in the game is collectively decided upon by the players and continuously revised while playing. However, not all games that combine physical and virtual space are necessarily pervasive. According to Montola et al. (2009), only the ones that are able to move the game to unpredictable and unclear environments can be labelled as such, which is the case in my presented games.

The games that I present in this chapter are minimal(istic) in their design and have little to no rules. The reason that I choose to implement little to no rules is because: 1) I seek to lower the threshold for participation, and thus have a wider public participate in my games and 2) I want to know what different interpretations and uses of the games there

are, that is, how players appropriate the tools and what rules they come up with themselves. Furthermore, I argue that an affordance that comes with the absence of clear rules generates more opportunities for players to come up with their own rules, or to appropriate features in the game which creates interesting tensions between the physical and virtual domain, a relation that I seek to examine.

The attitude of the player is relevant for my analysis. Here, I draw on the idea of ‘playfulness’ that Salen & Zimmerman (2004) present. They contend that “being playful refers not only to typical play activities, but also to the idea of being ​​ in a playful state of mind, where the spirit of play is injected into some other action.” (p. 304). Where ‘play’ refers to activities, ‘playfulness’ is more related to an attitude that one adopts. For example, map reading or navigation can be experienced as very formal, but a playful attitude can make this challenging and entertaining. This is in line with Michael Apter’s & Ken Smith’s (1991) concept of ‘paratelic play’. In paratelic play, the activity has no longer any functionality, the goal itself has become playing. Paratelic play is non directed, exploratory, and for the sake of playing. The notion of paratelic play is used in this chapter as a means to critique goal-oriented game play that is accompanied with productive ways of moving in public space. I, therefore, propose different forms of playing with the map or different ways of being with others in public space while being connected via the map interface. I use play as an affordance of the digital map interface, one that is able to critique Cartesian forms of mapping and/or goal oriented (according to a Cartesian logic) ways of moving through space, an approach that critical cartography often tends to do more at a theoretical level.

Furthermore, I problematise ways in which play is being capitalised on as a consequence of the geo-tag. The wide-spread use of mobile devices and digital technologies that make use of the geo-tag, have not only led to a development in which people increasingly play with maps, it has also contributed to a development in which play is being capitalised on by corporations to push citizens into limited roles of, for instance, consumers. Pokémon Go is a clear example of such development.82 The creators of this game seek to distract users (taking advantage of their playful state of mind) to lure them to certain places and eventually influence their consumption behaviour, which is achieved through the third parties that the players disclose their location to as they play the game (Varghese, 2019).83 More scrutiny is needed when talking of playful and participatory approaches in Location Based Mobile Games (LBMGs) as it requires an understanding of how navigation and urban encounters are mediated through the digital map interface.

This chapter comprises five self-designed map apps. What all of the apps have in common is that they, through the map interface, examine the relation between the physical and the virtual domain, and the way users manoeuvre between those domains.

Actions that are proposed in either the physical or the virtual domain influence the way these domains are experienced and conceptualised. Through the backdrop of the case studies, spatial theories are re-examined while the potentials for play, criticality, mobility, connectivity, and digital spatial media are discussed as a means to shed new light on those theories.

82 Here, I refer to the very first design and implementation of Pokémon Go in the United States. Over the years the game has changed.

83 In an article in Wired magazine (Varghese, 2019) Harvard Professor Shoshana Zuboff extensively explains the business model of Pokémon Go.

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All three case studies in this chapter examine the map attribute navigation while the second case study (with the presented games You Are Near, We Are Near, and We Are Nearer) also examines the attribute of the map’s frame. Furthermore, all case studies examine the corresponding affordances playing and co-creating, while Walk Away (the first case study) and Performative Mapping Game (the last case study) also examine the affordance inter-facing. Moreover, Performative Mapping Game incorporates performing as an affordance of the map app.

Figure 5.1 Three diagrams demonstrating attributes and affordances of the case studies in chapter 5. The diagram on the left demonstrates the attributes and affordances examined in the case study Walk Away. The diagram in the middle demonstrates the attributes and affordances examined in the Near Games and the diagram on the right represents the attributes and affordances examined in Performative Mapping Game. Produced by author.

In the last section of the case studies, I conclude my analysis by looking at the research positioning of each case study —for which I use an action matrix— and shorty explore the domains that the cases seek to make a contribution to.

5.2 Walk Away A case on navigating white space

Figure 5.2 (part 1) Actants in the case study Walk Away. Overlay frame of Figure 5.2 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 5.2 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Walk Away. Produced by author.

5.2.1 People, spaces, tools, data Walk Away is a map app in which the user can gradually erase the city’s map by walking its streets. Through walking and using the Walk Away app, the street on the digital map is erased in real time. The map app was first used in 2014 by members of the [urban interfaces]84 group at Utrecht University, after which it was used for four consecutive years

by Utrecht University students (see People > Research participants > Students in Figure 5.2). The Walk Away app was also presented at Play, Perform, Participate Conference in 2015 at Utrecht University where it was used by conference attendees (see People 84 From 2014 to 2017 I was a member of [urban interfaces]. [urban interfaces] is an initiative of the interdisciplinary Department for Media and Culture Studies (MCW) at Utrecht University that collaborates with an expanding (international) network of academic and cultural partners. [urban interfaces] presents itself as a platform for a critical investigation of urban interfaces for creative and participatory engagement at the crossing of academic research and cultural practices. Focusing on mobile and situated media, arts, and performances, the platform brings together and initiates critical reflections on, and actual interventions in, these socio-spatial activities and their shaping, and staging of urban culture. Retrieved May 25, 2020, from https://urbaninterfaces.sites.uu.nl/

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> Research participants > Conference members in Figure 5.2).85 Lastly, Walk Away was exhibited in Amsterdam in 2020 for the exhibition Mind Your Step. For the duration of three months, people in Amsterdam could use the app and this way collectively decide upon what map of Amsterdam was exhibited at the exhibition space at Zone2Source in Amstelpark.86 Approximately 760 tracks in the city were erased during that period.

The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 5.2) and Leaflet JavaScript library.

The tools used for this case study are: a mobile phone (see Tools > Hardware > Mobile phone in Figure 5.2), the Walk Away app (See Tools > Software > Self-designed apps in Figure 5.2), in the case of the conference in Utrecht a projector (see Tools > Hardware > Screen/Projector in Figure 5.2), in the case of the exhibition in Amsterdam three screens (see Tools > Hardware > Screen/Projector in Figure 5.2), and furthermore, two Raspberry Pi’s were used (see Tools > Hardware > Raspberry Pi in Figure 5.13).

5.2.2 Navigating the erased map The Walk Away app is a digital spatial medium, one that mediates navigation and spatial processes via the Global Positioning System. In the app, the location of the user is shown on a map. However, there is a crucial difference between the navigation uses mediated by map apps such as Google Maps, TOMTOM, or Waze and uses mediated by the Walk Away app.87 Where you follow the route through the streets of a city, the map of the city (the conceived space) is gradually obliterated when using the Walk Away app (see Figure 5.3). My hypothesis is that erasing the map while walking provides the user with a sense of empowerment while it enables to move the mapping practice from a conceived to that of a lived space. In this case study, I examine whether this assumption is correct.

Figure 5.3

85 Walk Away was presented at the Play | Perform | Participate Conference at the University of Utrecht in 2015. I formed part of the panel Performative Cartography together with Liesbeth Groot Nibbelink and Sigrid Merx. In this panel, we focused on different uses of maps and practices of mapping: cartography as social, aesthetic, and educational strategy. The panel built on a workshop on collective digital mapping using the Walk Away app that conference participants could participate in. Both the output of the workshop and the experiences of the participants formed the material and collective point of reference from which we as panelists together with the audience started talking about performative cartography More information about my contribution in this conference can be viewed here: http://performativemapping.com/conference-play-perform-partcipate/.

Retrieved May 25, 2020, from http://performativemapping.com/conference-play-perform-partcipate/ 86 More information about this exhibition can be found here: https://mindyourstep.performativemapping.net/ and via this website: http://zone2source.net/nl/mind-your-step/. Furthermore, the research was published in various Dutch newspapers.

Retrieved May 25, 2020, from https://www.ad.nl/amsterdam/met-je-telefoon-nieuwe-wegen-in-de-stad-ontdekken~ac468f2f/.

Retrieved May 25, 2020, from https://oost-online.nl/in-coronatijd-straten-wegwandelen-met-kunstproject/ 87 Here, I compare Walk Away app to navigational apps such as Google Maps as a means to clarify the navigational attribute in Walk Away and to demonstrate how it differs from many other map apps in this aspect. In another section of this chapter, I will talk about the playful affordances of the presented apps. There, the self-designed apps will be compared to other map apps that are relevant for that specific analysis.

Three stills from an animation of the map of Amsterdam in which Walk Away was used in this city for the duration of three months. This map was presented at Zone2Source (Amsterdam, 2020) for the exhibition Mind Your Step.

Produced by participants.

Drawing on the presented theories of space that were described in chapter 2, I contend that the representation of the city in maps (the conceived space) impacts the experience of it (the perceived space) and, therefore, also its use (the lived space). If we look at the representation of space by Google Maps, for example, we can recognise that, by default, this mapping service tends to indicate shortest and fastest routes while, through its map design, it seeks to minimise risks of deviating from the track. Now, the uniqueness of digital mapping services such as these lies in the fact that the user can change the settings to personal preferences, so that other criteria (though preconfigured by the makers) can be used when calculating one’s route. In most cases though, Google Maps users will purpose the map in such way that space is to be walked through efficiently and goal-oriented in terms of time or distance. In Google’s design, landmarks on the map correspond with those in the physical space with which the map design functions as a navigational aid. The users’ recommended route is then marked with a blue line, for the user to follow (see map of Figure 5.4). If the user deviates from this route, the app recalculates and generates an alternative optimised route, which is again presented as the fastest/shortest/other criteria based on the user’s originally selected route.

The user in Walk Away does not search for landmarks in the physical space the same way that (s)he does with other mapping services. As a result, the map is not used as a navigational aid. Although the user is guided by the parts of the map that have not been erased yet, the map design does not suggest anything (see map of Figure 5.5). The user has to discover for him/herself what the map does with his/her way of moving.

Figure 5.4 (left) & Figure 5.5 (right) On th eleft, landmarks on the interface design of Google maps with suggestions how to navigate. Produced by author via Google Maps. On the right, the interface design of Walk Away, containing no landmarks or suggestions regarding how to navigate. Produced by author.

In my own and students’ observations I discovered that this freedom regarding how to navigate/move contributes to adapting a playful state of mind. The playful attitude, in its turn, contributes to an altered behaviour, such as users going to areas in the city where they would otherwise not go to, users walking more distances than they would normally do, making detours, etc. In Walk Away, users come up with strategies regarding what and how to erase and these are continuously being devised. In Google Maps, contrastingly, strategies are being devised by the map creators (to ensure optimisation) where

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users are constantly being ‘corrected’.

We could see earlier that navigation in Walk Away is directed by the user him/herself with which the navigational aspects of the representation of the map are mostly defined by the users. As design-researcher, I create pre-conditions for erasure and decide about some of its attributes (for instance, in this case I decide about the map’s frame), but what streets to include or exclude in the map is eventually decided upon by the users. When it comes to the design of the map, the app does not suggest any direction to take or movement to make. Influencing the map design through navigation, therefore, lies not with me (as map-maker), but is in the hands of the user(s) and, as it turns out, (s)he uses tactics to influence/erase the map as much as possible. In this regard, the user has a say in and continuous influence on the conceived space of the map and how it will be used by other/new users.88 I view this as a form of ‘navigating’ that is far more empowering than mapping services such as Google.

5.2.3 Walk Away and the playful state of mind Although there is freedom in navigation in Walk Away, there is a perceived aim when using the map, that is, to erase as much of it as possible. This contributes to a playful state of mind with the users. As the walking behaviour in Walk Away often deviates from existing conventions (as we will later see more clearly in Figure 5.9), interesting dynamics occur in the way users manoeuvre between the physical and the virtual domain. For example, if the user is running in circles or walking a distance twice, passers-by in the physical space might become triggered as to what this behaviour is about in this shared space. I will discuss these tensions later on, in section 5.2.4. In this section, I explain how design choices in the app have contributed to adapting a playful state of mind in the first place, after which I elaborate on how iterations in the app have contributed to move the map app more in the direction of Paideia (free play) according to the Caillois’ scale.

The first version of Walk Away was tested with Utrecht University students (see Figure 5.6) and had a walked-distance counter box incorporated (see Figure 5.7) in the interface. This indicates each users erased kilometres and it was updated in real time. Many students commented that, because of this feature, they interpreted the map app as a game and immediately started competing without really knowing what they were competing for or what the advantage of winning was.

Figure 5.6 Two different groups of students of Utrecht University who are setting up their mobile phones prior to starting Walk Away (2015). Photo on the left produced by author. Photo on the right produced by Jasper van Vught (academic tutor of the course).

88 Here, I refer to the notion of performativity that was explained in chapter 2.

Figure 5.7 A screenshot of the way the Walk Away map interface was visualised with the KM counter box incorporated.

Each participant could see how much KM, (s)he, or another participant had removed from the map. Produced by participating students.

In an iteration, I removed the KM counter box to find out if the interaction with the map without this feature would move the app more in the direction of Paideia (free play) according to the Caillois’ scale. I anticipated that there would be less interest in playing, with this introduced change, but it turned out to be the opposite case. Without the counter box, students also adapted a playful attitude, but this time it was less motivated by competition but by the mere joy of erasing (various workshop participants, personal communication, 2015 & 2016).

A remark that often came back in the students field notes and essays was the notion that users of the app became ‘obsessed’ with erasing. A result of this behaviour is that many players forgot the reality of the physical space that they were walking in. It also resulted in confrontation with people who did not participate in the game. Let me illustrate this with a student’s field note that talks of the experience of Walk Away after the first iteration: I collaborated with other users in order to erase parts faster. This led us to sometimes enter forbidden terrain. Also, the traffic rules were not taken into account due to the constant focus on the phone. The co-users indicated that erasing the map itself created an euphoric feeling. I experienced this feeling myself; the goal was to erase the map myself.

Ellemieke Hertgers, 2015

Here, we can see that Apter’s & Smith’s (1991) concept of ‘paratelic play’ comes into play as the activity, in some instances, no longer has any goal other than playing/erasing itself. Furthermore, what is interesting to notice is that by removing the KM counter box after the first iteration, collaboration arose among some of the users. In these instances, the players were not competing any longer against each other but they were competing together against the map.

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The navigational attribute in Walk Away app enabled users to discover new places in the city and contributed to a playful state of mind. In this practice, interesting tensions occurred between the conceived, perceived, and lived space of the city (focusing on the affordances ‘playing’ and ‘inter-facing’). In continuation I look at these tensions in more detail.

5.2.4 Inter-facing between the conceived, perceived, and lived space Although the representation of space in Google Maps is mainly for navigational purpose, it can also be used as a means to look for contact details. The conceived space that is presented by Google has a direct impact on the perceived space, as the walking behaviour is controlled by the use of this map app. Although the settings can be adjusted to personal preferences, the user in Google Maps is not incentivised to come up with own tactics of movement as the application is geared towards optimising and ‘correcting’ (guiding and advising) the user’s movement.89 The result is that the lived space is mainly dictated by that of the conceived space of the map when using this mapping service.

Consequently, there is little tension between the conceived and perceived or lived space as navigation is mainly dominated by the idea of efficiency-based movement of the map creators. Walk Away is different in this respect. In the perceived space of Walk Away, erasing was experienced by many students as enriching. To illustrate, a number of students mentioned that after use of the app, the parts of the map that they had erased were given a new meaning by them. Let me illustrate this with a student’s field note where she describes her experience of Walk Away: The application made me aware of space, obstacles, mobility choices, and the city itself. However, this is especially the case during use of the application, if the application is not used, this feeling decreases due to the virtual space that is gone. It is interesting, however, to conclude that it does leave its mark. Places that previously had no meaning for me now remind me of the application or the map of Utrecht. I have experienced what it is like to create places and to give places without meaning new value.

Judith Weda, 2015

Furthermore, not knowing (beforehand) what other users will do with the map, creates interesting tensions between the space that is represented (the map) and the space that is walked through. These tensions contribute to an altered experience of physical space with which spatial theories could be re-examined. In this regard, the Walk Away app affords an ‘inter-facing’ between the conceived, perceived, and lived space. To analyse this, I look at the experience of physical space in two different timeframes (see Figure 5.8). In time-frame 1, I examine the app for the experience of the conceived, perceived and lived space. In time-frame 2, I examine the same, only here the user of the app will find him/herself on locations where the map is no longer available. Here, I will look at what constructs of space are applicable to this situation.

89 There are examples in which users apply a more tactical approach to this mapping service (also called Google Maps Hacks), but these are rather more exceptions. An example of such a map hack was performed by artist Simon Weckert (2020) who used 99 mobile phones to trick Google into traffic jam alert (Hern, 2020).

Figure 5.8 A schematic overview depicting the two time-frames in Walk Away. On the left, we can see the actants necessary for use of the Walk Away app (a mobile phone, the app, the software, etc.), then next to it, we can see time-frame 1 which encompasses the representation of space (the digital map) prior to erasing and physical space itself.

The two columns right from that represent actions that the user has to take and technologies that (s)he has to use to erase the map. And the last column depicts time-frame 2. This encompasses the representation of space (the digital map) after erasing and physical space itself. Produced by author.

Most of the students mentioned in the essays that their behaviour altered in the physical space during use of the app. In time-frame 1, the digital map tends to be given priority and conventions from the physical world become of secondary importance. As a consequence, unexpected moves are made in physical space and new itineraries are discovered. This altered behaviour disappears gradually in time-frame 2, as the map of the city is erased. In this phase, the digital map becomes less leading and physical space is given more attention.

I followed a student while using the Walk Away app. What I could observe from my documentation (see Figure 5.9) —and what was later confirmed by interviewing her— is that conventions regarding the use of public space tend to change while using the app (between time-frame 1 and 2 of Figure 5.8) and that, as a consequence, behaviour in the physical space is altered. When demonstrating the pictures to the student and discussing them with her, she mentioned that she would do things or go to areas that, under normal circumstances, she would not. Furthermore, she mentioned that she was too focused on erasing, and therefore, forgot conventions or rules in the physical space. For instance, she would cross a red light or the street without looking, or would be unaware of the fact that she was entering private property.

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Figure 5.9 Photos of a student that I followed who was using the map app Walk Away. Produced by author.

In another students field note that talks of the experience of Walk Away, I learned that before erasing and when the map was ‘intact’ (time-frame 1 of Figure 5.8), the screen was looked at almost exclusively, while after erasing (time-frame 2 of Figure 5.8), the visual exploration of the city increased.

I was motivated to erase as much of the map of Utrecht as possible. Where I normally only navigate between the points in the city, when using Walk Away I was motivated to walk “aimlessly” through Utrecht. It was remarkable that the cartographic space became my primary experience. Where I expected in advance to see a lot of Utrecht during my research, the opposite turned out to be true. During my walks, I was almost exclusively focused on the screen of my phone, and I did not follow the general conventions that are common in the city of Utrecht. For example, during my research I broke traffic rules, walked unconventional paths and entered private property.

Pieter Vliegenthart , 2015

What we can observe from these examples is that, while using the Walk Away app, a transition seems to be taking place from the map as conceived space to the map as perceived and lived space. As a consequence, in time-frame 2 the users could potentially give new meanings to the conceived space that corresponds to the erased part on the map. However, not all students experienced this transition very consciously.

In an iteration, I decided to make the erasure happen more gradually. Now users would have to walk a street several times to achieve a complete erasure of the street on the

map (see Figure 5.10). The reason I introduced this iteration is because I wanted to know if the gradual way of erasing would contribute to a more conscious experience of the transition from conceived to perceived or lived space.

Figure 5.10 A screenshot from the app Walk Away after the 2nd iteration. Here a user had to walk a street several times to achieve complete erasure of a street. Produced by workshop participants.

Performing this iteration had a number of effects: First, it resulted in even more obsessive behaviour of the participants as they had to walk the same itinerary several times to achieve the same result, thus creating more tensions between the physical and the virtual space. Secondly, the iteration contributed to giving participants a new choice, that is, to leave the map half erased. A third effect of this iteration is that some of the students mentioned that the option to leave the map half erased gave them an increased feeling of community while erasing, as it became visible what parts of the city other users were trying to erase. However, the individual considerations of what parts to remove completely and what parts to leave half erased were not shared or discussed in the group while using the app.

5.2.5 Co-creation and the empowering potentials of Walk Away In previous chapters, I have explained how co-creation in this PhD is linked to the notion of empowerment. To pin down where the empowering potentials of Walk Away lie, I use the theoretical framework that was presented earlier and, for the sake of clarity, briefly compare the co-creating affordances of Walk Away with those of Google Maps. For this analysis, my own field notes are consulted as well as field notes from student essays who wrote about their experience of the use of the map apps. Combining these sources enables me to triangulate data and seek where overlaps and differences are to be found between the experiences.

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Walk Away looks at the potentials of cartography to become a spatial practice, one that belongs to the lived space. In incorporating the lived experiences of the participants, I look at how the map interface engenders participatory approaches towards map creation and map use. Prior to examining the affordance of co-creation of this app, I briefly problematise participatory approaches in digital map creation and map use, and propose a different kind of approach for co-creation. The underlying thought of participatory approaches towards map creation and map use is that it is not any longer about reading maps alone, but to a far greater extent about the continuous influence that users can have on maps as maps have become personalised and are being transformed while navigating with and through them (Lammes, 2015). To conceptualise this further, Lammes defines it as a changed mutability of the map —where an analogue map is immutable, digital technologies have made of maps mutable mobiles.90 The users are not mere readers, but can be labeled as “cartographers on tour” (p .203) due to the interaction with the digital maps.

The empowering potential of Walk Away lies in the fact that the app enables to create openings in the map with which new/subjective meanings can be assigned to those white spaces. Here, cartography as a practice of meaning-making is attributed to the users of the map (while in traditional cartography the practice of meaning-making is often assigned to the map creators). The process of meaning-making happens while (un)mapping and it is here where the construction of spatial stories come into play. As explained in chapter 2, the French philosopher Michel de Certeau posited that individuals’ everyday practices are significant for understanding the different meanings that spaces in the city embody. For this, he introduced the term spatial stories. According to De Certeau, it is through the creation of spatial stories that individuals create a sense of place and engender a discourse of belonging. In erasing the map, a transition takes place from ‘place’ to ‘space’ while the decision of what parts of the map one wants to erase can be associated with a way of telling a spatial story, one that requires a physical confrontation with the space. A physical movement in what Lefebvre (1991) calls the lived space, continuously overrides the conceived space —the space that is theorised and controlled (such as that of a map) with which the Walk Away app enables users to scrutinise ingrained dispositions that are held when it comes to what a map ought to be or do. With this, Walk Away has not only demonstrated to be a way of doing critical cartography, but it also enables users to engage in the practice of meaning-making.

The practice of meaning-making was further elaborated on in a third iteration of the Walk Away app which was presented in Amsterdam in 2020 for the exhibition Mind Your Step. Here, I introduced the possibility in the app to upload a video of the street that a user is erasing while talking about his/her experience of erasure. This video could be taken simultaneously (while erasing).91 In the exhibition space, these two movements

90 The term immutable mobile was coined by Bruno Latour (2011) to understand how power ‘works’ in producing technoscientific ‘artefacts’. An immutable mobile is an inscription that can vary in scale, can be reproduced, and is combinable with other inscriptions (p. 37-38). Immutable mobiles are, for Latour, actants that remain stable enough to retain their shape or configuration as they circulate through and across networks. They are “actants that can be reproduced throughout a network without being altered” (Gershon, 2010, p. 168). When maps become immutable and mobile, they acquire a certain authority and it becomes difficult for users to undo or change them (Lammes, 2018).

91 Due to the long time-frame (months) in which this app was available to the public, the focus here is less on the playful aspects of simultaneous erasure (with an exception of some moments that were planned for collective erasure) and more on understanding participants experiences of the use of the Walk Away app. Therefore, including the video option was a relevant choice.

—erasure of the street on the digital map and the video of the streets with the user talking about his/her experience— were shown in real time on separate screens that were hanging next to each other at the exhibition space (see Figure 5.11). I introduced this feature because I wanted to know more about the experience of erasure and find out about the (subjective) meanings that users assign to the places in the map that they chose to erase. In this regard, I was interested in what these spatial stories could look like. As the exhibition lasted for several months, one screen (the map) would become emptier and the other screen would become filled with stories (the videos) that were uploaded by the users.

Figure 5.11 Presentation of Walk Away for the exhibition Mind Your Step, a group exhibition about the art of walking. From October 4th until November 29th 2020, Walk Away was presented to the public at Zone2Source in Amsterdam.

Although the exhibition lasted for two months, the app could be used for a total of three months. The work was shown on three screens; one screen in which the whole map of Amsterdam was to be seen, another screen with a zoom-in on Amstelpark (where the exhibition was located), and a third screen where the videos were played.

The maps and videos were constantly evolving as users interacted with the Walk Away app in the months that the exhibition took place. The maps and videos were updated and uploaded in real time. During the opening hours of the venue, the screens were facing inward so that participants could scroll over the map of Amsterdam to see what parts have been erased (see left picture), and when the venue was closed, the screens were facing outward (see pictures in the middle and on the right). Visitors in the park could then still follow the real time map update and watch the videos, as speakers were installed outside of the venue so that the sound belonging to the videos could be heard while watching the screen from the outside. Photo on the left and photo in the middle produced

by Karianne Rygh. Photo on the right produced by author.

Although the empowering potential of Walk Away app lies in the fact that users are able to create openings in the map, I was initially interested in finding out if the practice of erasure would also contribute to the creation of spatial stories. To explain how spatial stories are created with Walk Away, I make use of two actants diagrams, one that belongs to Walk Away before the third iteration (see Figure 5.12) and one that belongs to Walk Away after the third iteration (see Figure 5.13). By comparing the two diagrams, we can observe the different settings in which the Walk Away app was used; the first at the university and with students, the second at the art venue and with exhibition visitors.

In the second setting, exhibition visitors are both visualised in the diagram as public (visiting the exhibition) and research participants (upon knowing about the Walk Away app some of the exhibition visitors also started using the app). Although both diagrams demonstrate ‘GPS inscriptions’ as participant data, it is in effect the erasure of the GPS inscriptions that I work with, as explained earlier. We can also observe that in the second diagram (Figure 5.13) the participant data is extended with ‘video’ and ‘audio’ and that the software also includes built-in apps (the camera app that I make use of). This new

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feature is important for this case study in order to gain insight about the spatial stories.

Furthermore, by including these features I have implemented a research component to the map app with which I —as ethnographer— can gain knowledge about the meanings that users assign to erasure. Therefore, in this third iteration the map app can potentially also serve the domain of research although this is not worked out in this case study.

Through the videos, participants could contribute to the creation of spatial stories. For example, in one of the videos, a participant mentioned that she was moving houses and chose to walk the street for the last time while erasing it as a form of closure.92 This space has a very subjective meaning for this participant which she can claim in this collective map. In this regard, the potentials of Walk Away after the third iteration lie both in serving a societal domain (through enabling users to claim parts of the map and link them to their (personal) stories) as well as potentially serving the research community in the ability to use the map app as ethnographic research. For instance, the stories could potentially help design researchers gain insights in the diverse meanings that individuals assign to places in the city which, in turn, can help them make informed decisions for designs in this context.

Figure 5.12 (left) & Figure 5.13 (right) On the left, actants in Walk Away before 3rd iteration. On the right, actants in Walk Away after 3rd iteration.

Produced by author.

5.2.6 Erasing as embodied critical cartography I have presented the changed experience of the physical space while using the Walk Away app in the city. The question remains of what interpretations users give to the experience of erasure of the map, and how this experience could contribute to a form of critical thinking, one that entails embodied interaction with maps. It is here where the PhD seeks to make a contribution to education. There is extensive literature on critical cartography and on embodied interaction, but in my PhD trajectory I could hardly find any examples that combine the notion of embodied interaction as a form of critical cartography. In the mapping sessions of this chapter, instead of staying on a theoretical level, I invited users to engage with critical cartography through a proposed action. The

92 The results of the collectively erased map of Amsterdam and the uploaded videos can be watched here: https://mindyourstep. performativemapping.net/results. Retrieved, May 4, 2020 from https://mindyourstep.performativemapping.net/results

question I raise is: what does this approach do to the understanding of spatial theories, and most importantly for this research, what is the added value of embodied interaction with the map in this understanding.

To answer this question, I present another setting in which the Walk Away app was used, that is, the ‘Play Perform Participate’ Conference of the International Society of Intermedial Studies at University of Utrecht (2015). I look at what the use of the map app in this setting contributed to my previous question. At the conference, I formed part of a panel on Performative Cartography where the map app was presented by myself together with Sigrid Merx and Liesbeth Groot Nibbelink. In the first part of the panel, we presented critical cartography on a theoretical level, with a specific focus on the participatory potential of digital mapping tools as cartographic media. After this introduction, conference members could test Walk Away in the city of Utrecht (see Figure 5.14). In the second part of the panel we discussed, together with the conference attendees, what their experiences with the app were and the possible meanings and implications of erasing the map of the city. This discussion took place while an animation of the (by the conference attendees) erased parts of the map was projected in the background (see Figure 5.15).

Figure 5.14 (left) & Figure 5.15 (middle and right) On the left, a photo of a participant using the map interface on her mobile phone. Produced by author. The map in the middle is a screenshot before use of the Walk Away app. The map on the right is a screenshot of the Walk Away app while it was being used by the conference attendees. The discussion with the public was taking place in the second part of the panel where this map animation was played in the background on the screen, functioning as a conversation piece. Produced by workshop participants.

In the discussion with the conference attendees, the notion of inscription was addressed.

As mentioned earlier, while maps have become increasingly mutable in the digital age — as they emerge with users in flux and the user has a certain say in its appearance— digital maps still depend on the practice of inscription. Lammes (2018) argues that even an open-source mapping application like OpenStreetMap (OSM) depends on a multitude of visible and combinable inscriptions. Like in Google Earth or Google Maps, the image of the map is also arranged according to certain predetermined gridlines that cannot be changed by the user. Yet, in OSM, the mapping interface is definitely more mutable than in Google Earth because the user is now actively encouraged to contribute in in-depth inscriptions to the map. In this case study, the in-depth inscriptions comprise an erasure of those with which the map is indeed mutable. Some conference attendees, therefore, mentioned to feel a certain excitement when using the app as they could not name examples of mapping practices that are able to do this in a similar way. Furthermore, they mentioned that erasing the map contributed to a particular gesture that goes against the idea that cartography adds to the logic that we are increasingly living today, where

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everything is measured and categorised. Some claimed that the experience of erasure — especially as a cartographic praxis— felt liberating. Inscription is, therefore, central to the Walk Away app where GPS inscription paradoxically comprises deleting those.

Erasure in Walk Away happens on visual level. Although Walk Away is a web app where no registration is required (with which users stay anonymous), on data level (through the use of Google chrome as internet navigator) users could potentially still be traced.

Most conference members argued that, even if erasure in this map app does not necessarily entail erasure on data level due to the networking services used, the fact that participation was anonymous and that one could have an influence on the map that was used simultaneously by other conference attendees, was indeed experienced as embodied and empowering. The empowering potentials lie in the fact that parts of the map that have been erased are no longer removable by other/new users with which the user directly defines the collective map that others interact with and makes of the map a mutable mobile object. At the same time, some conference attendees felt an unease with the fact that they did not know how many other people were participating as there is no such indication and if there was even someone erasing his/her street at the same time. This discomfort was described by some as not knowing where one’s authorship starts and ends.

On a side note, the notion of authorship also came up in some of the discussions with Utrecht University students after they had used the Walk Away app. Walk Away was one of the only apps of this chapter that I had tested with a broad public, including the design research community and a general public. Where the conference attendees (predominantly an academic community) mentioned to feel an unease with not knowing who contributed to what parts of erasure, in the design community the term authorship in relation to the practice was not mentioned once. A possible explanation for this difference might be the approach that the academic community has towards cartography. In the scientific community, the focus might be more on questions of authorship whilst in a design research community the focus might be more on the participatory qualities of the map design.

Furthermore, what was interesting to see in this conference setting was the very diverse reactions and feedback from the audience. Some media scholars associated the erased map with a bombarded city and were troubled by the image and the associations that the partly erased map produced. One person in the audience even became slightly angry. Others contended that erasing the map triggered their imagination, and again, others focused more on the embodied experience of erasing. The discussion after use of Walk Away app (and the different associations that the representation and practice had for the diverse public) became more interesting than the actual result, with which this map app has proven to be very suitable for a conference as a setting to discuss and experience critical cartography. The map animation was thus used as a conversation piece to discuss the potentials of engaging in critical cartography on an experiential level. However, showing the animation would not be enough, the experience with the map app is a prerequisite to have this discussion.

To conclude, the potentials of the app to engage in critical cartography lie in the users embodied way of (un)mapping. It is through moving their bodies and the influence

that users can have on the collective map that they experience the mapping interface’s potential to contribute in the map’s inscription, a practice that is normally inherently coupled to cartography. As explained earlier, all maps depend on the practice of inscription. However, I distinguished between levels of mutability, stating that OSM’s mapping interface is far more mutable than Google Map’s mapping interface due to the fact that users can actively contribute in in-depth inscriptions to the map. With Walk Away, these in-depth inscriptions paradoxically comprise erasing those. We can also say that this practice of erasure goes against the grain of what cartography is normally about. The experience with Walk Away in the conference setting was a way to engage with critical cartography on an experiential level. It triggered discussion about new approaches to mapping, approaches that do not involve way-finding, data-aggregation or data-accumulation, but where diverse and new meanings can be assigned to embodied critical cartography.

5.2.7 Positioning and contributions When it comes to the design of map apps, it is not any longer in the hands of cartographers alone, but increasingly more in those of interaction designers. As a result, maps are approached as artefacts to be experienced and played with. Thus, with the PhD being situated in the field of critical cartography, it is relevant to embed critical cartography in the field of interaction design when maps are deployed. This entails scrutinising the underlying mechanisms and business models of the makers of those apps, on the one hand. On the other hand, it entails developing map apps in the interaction design field that enable to contest the map app monopoly of companies such as Google. It is through these practices that we can gain more insight in how corporations such as these (increasingly) capitalise on public spaces while contributing in critical cartography. Developing and working with map apps is relevant as a means to critically engage with these questions not only on a theoretical level, but also through practice and in an embodied way. I contend that it is in the embodied interaction with the map that we can discuss if we can indeed speak of criticality. It is here where this PhD seeks to make a contribution to education. Here, I would like to reference Grootens (2021) in the importance that he administers to designing digital tools for educational context.

In his doctoral dissertation, he describes how in his design practice mainly tools from large commercial technology companies are used and why this is problematic. “With the insights from this research I will certainly investigate how we can develop more tools of our own. This may be even more urgent in the context of education. What is the significance of the dependence on software companies for the re-evaluation of education curricula? And: the fewer designers, and people in general, that actually depend on tools developed by others, the less likely they are to be struck by friendly fire.” (p.172). In my PhD, I engage with this question he raises. I do so by introducing self-designed mapping tools. Although there are many aspects that can be improved in the apps or issues that remain unaddressed, it is a first step to engage in a practice that is more reflexive on the role of self-designed mapping tools for knowledge acquisition and knowledge exchange in educational context.

I initiated this case study with examining if the digital map interface of Walk Away would be able to change the perception of physical space. Then, through various iterations in

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which I introduced new features in the app, I was able to have different publics engage with the app and reflect on diverse uses of it. For example, by removing the distance counter box and by introducing a more gradual way of erasing I was able to place more emphasis on the experience of erasure as critical cartography rather than have it as an experience of competition. Furthermore, by introducing video and audio data as new features I was able to gain insight into the meanings that users administer to places and their individual experience of erasure. In this last and concluding section, I analyse my (changing) roles and positions in light of the domains that the research of this case study serves. For this analysis, I use an action matrix (see Figure 5.16).

Where this case study serves a societal purpose, I see the value of Walk Away more on a reflective level, that is, as a means to rethink what mapping can be and do. Looking at the action matrix, this entails ‘imagining’ different kind of maps and ‘engaging’ in critical cartography in a more experiential and embodied way. With this line/move, and based on the insights that I have gained with the experiments, I propose to inform my research practice and make improvements in the designed interaction so as to move the outcome even more to the desired direction. Therefore, the line moves between ‘imagine’, ‘engage’, and ‘intervene’. In the interpretive reflection (chapter 6) —where my focus is on knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer— I, furthermore, elaborate on these movements and explain it in light of Chris Argyris’ (1991) concept of ‘double loop learning’.

Looking more closely at how reflection happens in Walk Away, we can distinguish between individual and collective reflection. In the students examples, reflection in Walk Away does not happen in community and in interaction with others, but rather remains at individual level (this finding inspired me to have more community led interaction and reflection embedded in the app while playing the games which will be presented in the following case studies of this chapter). In Walk Away reflection did happen at community level, and it was in the discussions triggered by the use of the app, which often took place after its use. It is in these moments that the meaning of erasure in this app could be discussed collectively while an animation of the erased parts of the map was played.

This is especially interesting in conference settings or in an exhibition where a discussion can take place after the individual experience of erasure, and where the erased map animation can serve as conversation piece/trigger for this discussion.

Furthermore, what is interesting to mention is that in the last iteration of the app the sense of community was felt stronger and especially during a collective erasure day in November 2020 in Amsterdam, forming part of the exhibition Mind Your Step. On this day, many people in the city of Amsterdam participated in Walk Away simultaneously with which the map would become white in different parts of the city. Some of the users mentioned that erasing the map together with others —even if those others were elsewhere— created a sense of community. This feeling was strengthened by the fact that it was done in a time of a pandemic, where social distancing is the norm. Many users mentioned it to be an enriching experience and even used other channels (such as WhatsApp) to discuss this experience while erasing. Although this practice did not involve reflection in community, it is a clear example of how Walk Away was able to make a societal contribution.

Where the case study serves education, I look at how through using Walk Away a change

is produced in one’s way of thinking about spatial theories and about cartography.

The digital map interface enables users to move between the physical and the virtual domain. However, the map remains a spatial representation with which it continues to be linked to physical spaces. The ability to erase the map appeals to the imagination, but it is eventually through using the app and moving one’s body in physical space that one can change the collective map, and thus engage in critical cartography (see line between ‘imagine’ and ‘engage’ in Figure 5.16). In making a contribution to education, my desired outcome is to have users shed new light on spatial theories through embodied interaction with the map (see line between ‘engage’ and ‘intervene’ in Figure 5.16). This, in turn, can contribute to a change in the debate on what cartography can be and do with which the end position of the line lies in ‘intervene’ with change as the intended effect.

Figure 5.16

Note: Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Walk Away. Adapted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.1080/237 3566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

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5.3 Near Games A case on navigating the grey area collectively

Figure 5.17 (part 1) & Figure 5.18 (part 1) Actants in the case study Near Games. Overlay frame of Figure 5.17 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 5.17 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Near Games with map app You Are Near. Overlay frame of Figure 5.18 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 5.18 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Near Games with map apps We Are Near and We Are Nearer. Produced by author.

5.3.1 People, spaces, tools, data In this case study three map apps are presented: You Are Near, We Are Near, and We Are Nearer. The reason that they are presented as one case study has to do with the fact that We Are Near is an iteration of You Are Near, and We Are Nearer again an iteration of We Are Near. Because the three apps use the same analytical and theoretical framework, it is useful to present them together so as to draw relations and argument the iterations.

[You Are Near] Digital maps on mobile devices continuously construct a universe around you; always positioning YOU in the centre of the map. However, what happens when you are no longer in the centre? You Are Near looks at the possibility of constructing new navigational strategies that emerge through a renewed search of one’ s positioning on the 185

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digital map in relation to one’ s movements in the city. In this LBMG, players are only able to ‘find themselves’ back on the map through collective navigation. By moving around and paying attention to one’s physical surroundings and that of other players, a sense of scale and direction gradually emerges.

You Are Near has been played in the city of Utrecht. The game administrator sets a time for when the game should start after which all players walk in separate directions using the built-in compass app. When the game commences, on each players mobile phone coloured dots are visualised on a grey surface. Each of the coloured dots represent a different player. However, none of the players know which dots belong to them. In You Are Near, a player has to navigate the grey area on his/her mobile phone to find his/her virtual self (indicated as ‘avatars’ in the diagrams of Figure 5.17). The only thing that is visible on the grey background are the dots with the players positions (see Figure 5.19), no GPS inscription is used. A player can choose the wrong dot up to two times, after which (s)he is disqualified from the game. After finding one’s virtual dot on the screen, the player chooses another dot to follow. The first player that is able to get as (physically) close as 10 meters to the player that he/she chose to follow, wins the game. In this case, a message appears on all the participants mobile phones stating the name of thplayer that has won. A maximum of 16 players can participate in the game simultaneously.

Figure 5.19 Screenshots of the map interface while the game You Are Near was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. Produced by workshop participants.

The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 5.17) and Leaflet JavaScript library. The tools that are used for this case study are a mobile phone, the built-in compass app, and the You Are Near app.

People who participated in this case study were Utrecht University students over the course of four years, Jasper van Vught (academic tutor), researchers of Charting the Digital (Utrecht University, University of Manchester, University of Warwick and RCA), myself (as designer of the app, workshop facilitator, and ethnographer), and Iván Fuciños Calle (as the developer of the app).

[We Are Near] In the following iteration, players do not play individually but in a team. Prior to starting the game, the teams (one blue and one red team) are created and each team discusses

their communication strategy. The game administrator sets a time for when the game should start after which all players walk in separate directions using the compass app (see Tools > Software > Built-in apps in Figure 5.18). When the game commences, on each players mobile phone red and blue dots are visualised on a grey surface (see Figure 5.19). Each of those dots represent a different player and depending on the team the player belongs to, the dot will be coloured blue or green. Additionally, a bigger sized red dot is shown together with a bigger sized blue dot (see Figure 5.20). Those bigger dots represent the digitally simulated object of each team. The two virtual objects move through the city’s streets in walking pace (the streets are chosen randomly) in the virtual game space. The streets where the players have walked are not accessible anymore to the virtual object. This way, the city’s game-board becomes gradually smaller as the game progresses. Each of the two competing teams aims to localise and surround the digitally simulated object of their respective teams’ colour. In the game, a chat function is incorporated (see Tools > Software > Built-in apps in Figure 5.18). Through the chat, players are able to discuss their location with that of their team members in order to coordinate their direction of walking. The moment players of a team manage to physically fully surround their virtual object (meaning blocking the object from all sides), the team wins. In that case, a message appears on all mobile phones stating the team that has won.

Figure 5.20 Screenshots of map interface while the game We Are Near was played by Utrecht University students in 2015.

Here, there are two digitally stimulated objects. Each team has to surround the object of his/her colour. Produced by workshop participants.

The challenge for each player is to find out which dot belongs to whom while, at the same time, localising the team’s object. In We Are Near, the feature of GPS inscription is incorporated (see Data > Participant data > GPS inscription in Figure 5.18). While the players walk, GPS traces appear on each players screen with which the underlying map (of streets) is gradually revealed to the players. Team members can communicate their positions via a text messaging app. However, both teams are in the same chat. If someone is able to disclose the location of the opponent, the player whose location is disclosed will be disqualified. Furthermore, players have to be on the lookout for members of the competing team as a player can ‘shoot’ an opponent with his/her camera (see Tools > Software > Built-in apps in Figure 5.18), by sharing the picture in the same chat. After a player is ‘shot’ (s)he cannot participate anymore in the game. The game administrator

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keeps track of who is disqualified and communicates this using the same chat The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 5.18) and Leaflet JavaScript library. The tools that are used for this case study are a mobile phone, the built-in compass app, the built-in chat app, the built-in camera app, and the We Are Near app.

People who participated in this case study: Utrecht University students over the course of four years, Jasper van Vught (university teacher), researchers of Charting the Digital (Utrecht University, University of Manchester, University of Warwick and RCA), myself (as designer of the app, workshop facilitator, and ethnographer), and Iván Fuciños Calle (as the developer of the app).

[We Are Nearer] Building on the previous app, this LBMG investigates more complex navigational strategies that are collectively determined. Similar to We Are Near there are two teams created prior to starting the game. Also, here a chat function is incorporated with which players are able to discuss their location with that of their team members in order to coordinate their direction of walking. Also, GPS inscription is incorporated with which the streets on the map become visible as the players make their moves in it. The biggest difference between We Are Near and this game is that in We Are Near there are two digitally simulated objects, one for each team. In We Are Nearer there is only one digitally simulated object that both teams are after. A team in We are Near wins the game if they are able to surround the digitally simulated object of their own colour first, and a team in We Are Nearer wins the game if they are able to surround the only digitally simulated object that is in the game.

Prior to starting the game, two teams (red and blue) are created and each team discusses their communication strategy. The game administrator sets a time for when the game should start after which all players walk in separate directions by using the built-in compass app (see Tools > Software > Built-in apps in Figure 5.18). When the game begins, each player’s mobile phone displays red and blue dots on a grey surface (see Figure 5.21). Each of those dots represent a different player, and depending on the team that the player belongs to the dot will be coloured blue or red. Additionally, a bigger sized green dot is visualised; the digitally simulated object (see Figure 5.21). This object moves through the city’s streets in walking pace (the streets are chosen randomly), in the virtual game space. Each team’s aim is to have its players get as close as possible to the green dot. The added distance of each team towards the object is updated in real time and visualised in the app. Summing up each player’s distance towards the object, a team wins if it gets as close as 50 meters to this object. When players manage to do this, a message appears on all mobile phones stating the team that has won (see Figure 5.21)

Figure 5.21 Screenshots of the map interface while the game We Are Nearer was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. Here, there is only one digitally simulated object that both teams are after. Each team has to surround the green dot as quick as possible. The collaborative distance of the team members of each group together towards the dot is visualised in the grey box. Produced by workshop participants.

The challenge for all players is to find out which dot belongs to whom while localising their team members and the virtual object. While the players walk, their GPS tracks are drawn with which the underlying city’s (street) map gradually reveals itself on the players screens. Team members can communicate their positions via a text messaging app. However, both teams are in the same chat. If someone is able to disclose the location of the opponent, the player whose location is disclosed will be disqualified. Furthermore, players have to be on the lookout for members of the competing team as a player can ‘shoot’ an opponent with his/her camera by sharing the picture in the same shared chat. After a player is ‘shot’ (s)he is disqualified from the game. The game administrator keeps track of disqualified players and communicates this using the same chat. A team can lose up to two players. The streets where the players have walked become excluded for the digitally simulated object. This way, the city’s game-board becomes gradually smaller as the game progresses. Especially towards the end, when all players get closer to the virtual object and to each other, it becomes increasingly more difficult to stay hidden from opponents.

The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 5.18), and Leaflet JavaScript library. The tools that are used for this case study are a mobile phone, the built-in compass app, the built-in chat app, the built-in camera app, and the We Are Nearer app.

People who participated in this case study are: Utrecht University students over the course of four years, Jasper van Vught (university teacher), researchers of Charting the Digital (Utrecht University, University of Manchester, University of Warwick and RCA), myself (as designer of the app, workshop facilitator, and ethnographer), and Iván Fuciños Calle (as the developer of the app).

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5.3.2 Playing in Near Games and the continuously evolving game board The three presented games have players move between physical and virtual game space. At the same time, the so called ‘magic circle’ of the game is continuously revised by the players and thus evolves while playing. If we compare the Near Games to other LBMGs, such as Pokémon Go, Ingress Prime or Minecraft Earth, we can state that the Near Games are all situated more in Paideia (on the Caillois’ scale) than in Ludus.

However, if we are to compare the three apps, we can say that You Are Near leans more towards Paideia, as it involves little to no rules while the following two games lean a bit more towards Ludus as the games involve a few more rules. The more rules players add to the game themselves, the more the game will lean towards Ludus. Although there are few rules to begin with, these will still have to be observed by the players. When players deviate from the rules, they step out of the so called ‘magic circle’. In this chapter, I will speak of the magic circle as ‘game space’, and I will describe how this space is continuously evolving during game play.

In many of the students essays it was mentioned that conventions of physical space

changed during game play. An example of a student who reflects on playing We Are Nearer: I noticed that I positioned my body differently from my surroundings. My attention for, for example, traffic rules faded a bit, because I was busy reading the group chat on my phone, taking notes, and meanwhile following a compass and keeping an eye on my fellow players. I almost ran into people several times or stopped in awkward places.

Isabel Beljaars, 2015

Furthermore, the game space in We Are Near and We Are Nearer was continuously evolving as the game progressed. Some elements would be excluded (through the snapping of opponents) and other/new elements would be included. For example, elements of the physical space such as statues (that did not initially form part of the game) would be included in the game space as players would use those to hide behind when an opponent was in sight.

The incorporated chat function in which players were able to take pictures of each other and of their surroundings, enabled me as ethnographer (for which I include myself as research participant in Figure 5.18), to gain insight in the players behaviours during game play. For example, I could observe that some of the players used an object from the city to hide behind if they saw an opponent who was coming closer (see Figure 5.22).

This was a new feature that I had not seen in You Are Near. Objects of the physical space outside of the game were appropriated and this way became part of the game space.

Also, the frame of one’s camera now became important as to who was to be included in the game space and who not. As a consequence, pictures entered the group chat where students were trying to run out of someone’s camera frame (see Figure 5.23). In the diagram of Figure 5.18 this is indicated as non-players (being the ones who are ‘snapped’ out of the game).

Figure 5.22 Pictures taken of Utrecht University students while they were playing the game We Are Nearer. It demonstrates the objects that students used to hide behind while playing the game. Produced by author.

Figure 5.23 Pictures taken of Utrecht University students while they were playing the game We Are Nearer. It demonstrates how students were trying to run out of the camera frame while playing the game. Produced by author.

Comparing the actants diagrams of You Are Near (see Figure 5.17) with those of We Are Near and We Are Nearer (see Figure 5.18), we can observe that the biggest difference lies in the data that is added to the last two games, both in terms of the application data (the digitally simulated object) as well as participant data (GPS inscriptions, text, images).

As a matter of fact, there is no participant data in You Are Near which is precisely the reason why so many players felt ‘lost’ or disoriented in the game space. The participant data in We Are Near and We Are Nearer is made available through incorporating the chat function in the game.

5.3.3 Collective adaptation of the maps’ frame The three map apps presented in this chapter are all LBMGs. Rather than containing links to maps, the central game-board where a user makes his/her move is a topological map that displays the actual location of the user on a representation of the physical space (s) he inhabits. The reason that I work with LBMGs is that they hold the potential to construct spatial relations on the move and enable to collectively negotiate those relations. In this respect, LBMGs or mobile games that have a map as game board have the potential to

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afford co-creation. Although some scholars claim that map use with Google Maps can also be considered a form of co-creation —as the user is able to continuously influence and alter the map with his/her movements— I argue that there is a crucial difference between map apps such as Google Maps and my proposed map apps in this section. It is important to understand how I differentiate from mapping services such as Google Maps or games that use a map as game board (such as Pokémon Go) when it comes to the affordance of co-creation because it touches the core of my doctoral research.

The main difference, I contend, lies in the affordance to purpose mapping as a meaning-making practice and the intention with which the apps are built. For example, if we look at Google Maps or ‘jolly’ game play practices such as Pokémon Go that use the map as playground, we have to take underlying mechanisms and the business models of the makers into consideration to determine what kind of participation is intended. In the case of Google Maps or Pokémon Go we can then hardly speak of co-creation. In this dissertation, however, I will not elaborate on issues related to data privacy as my interest goes out to the interaction with the maps as a form of co-creation. Therefore, my focus is on the affordances of mapping as a meaning-making practice. In order to speak of co-creation, there has to be a contribution by an individual or a group that is enabled to generate new or collective value (which I refer to as meaning-making). In the case of Google Maps, a user can decide how (s)he wants to alter or personalise his/her map, but (s)he will not be able to affect the map that other users interact with, with criteria that the (s)he finds relevant/important.

With Google Maps, it is more of an appropriation of the map that is afforded by Google with which we can hardly speak of the collaborative development of new value, that is, mapping as a meaning-making practice. In the presented map apps of this chapter, differently, the collective map is altered when individual or group contributions are made to the map. Here, we can indeed speak of a collaborative development wherein, in some cases more and in other cases less, mapping is to be seen as a meaning-making practice. A feature where we can find the affordance of co-creation in the case studies of this chapter is in the way that the map frame is constructed collectively. In a similar vein, where in Google Maps the frame will adapt to one’s individual movement, it will not influence the appearance of the map for other users. Thus, the way in which the map frame can be altered by users in Google Maps is not thought of as a collective effort. In these three games, when a user chooses to access a street, the map will adjust its frame to include the street that was accessed with which also the map’s scale is adjusted. We can say that the map frame constantly adapts to new users and that there is never a predefined centre or periphery of the collective map as these depend on each individuals contribution to the map; the areas that the users choose to access and thus include in the collective construction of the frame.

5.3.4 Collective forms of navigation The fact that there are no streets visualised on the screen in combination with the absence of rules regarding how to navigate and align one’s physical self with one’s virtual self, produces a feeling of disorientation according to many of the users that I asked to describe their experience of the game. An example of what a student wrote about his experience when playing You Are Near:

Although I am familiar with the city of Utrecht, it felt strange not to know which dot I was. I myself, therefore, experienced a slight sense of disorientation. In my opinion, my digital location did not match my physical location. In my opinion, only the lived space remained, so that my expectations fell away from the city. The worldview within the game was no longer self-centred, resulting in a new experience.

Floris Koster, 2015

Other students described it as a feeling of having to navigate an open sea without any clues or directions. In order to find oneself (one’s avatar, that is), one has to align one’s geographic position in physical space to one’s position on the screen. Doing so requires the use of tactics. Let me give examples of some of the tactics that were described in a student’s essay: Two players took the bus on purpose to see whether it would make their dots move across the screen faster. This indeed seemed to work, making them one of the first to find their own dots.

Floris Koster, 2015

Another player made use of the wifi network while sitting in a bar. Through turning the network on and off he could see the dot move a bit on the screen.

Floris Koster, 2015

In You Are Near, no GPS inscription is used which encouraged users to come up with own tactics as a means to make sense of the map and their place in it. It is here where spatial stories start to be created. Later on, I describe how I further elaborate on the creation of spatial stories through the iterations on this game, but first I continue to focus on the attribute ‘navigation’ in the games.

In the iterations of You Are Near, navigation happens in collaboration with other players.

Building on the previous app, this LBMG sought to focus on the collective rather than the individual navigational strategies. The map, here, becomes gradually visible on the grey background as the players make their moves. This way, it is made easier for the opponent to find him/herself and his/her team members on the grey background. For this reason, players have to use GPS inscription tactically - not only as a navigational aid to find oneself, but also as a means to communicate with other team members. Purposing GPS inscription this way, incentivised players to couple GPS inscription to the creation of spatial stories that I will also describe later.

I was able to observe that the two teams in We Are Near would often move in very different or peripheral parts of the city (see Figure 5.24) or they would walk in different directions. Although they were moving in the same game space, they would rarely meet each other in physical space. It was due to the digitally simulated object that, for each team, was placed elsewhere in the virtual game space, that players started to drift, and that the chances became smaller that they would encounter each other in physical space. For this reason, I performed an iteration to have only one digitally simulated object for both teams.

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Figure 5.24 Some pictures that were taken by me and the participants while Utrecht University students were playing the game We Are Near in 2015. It demonstrates the remote places that the players were going to while playing the game. Photo on the left produced by author. Photos in the middle and right produced by workshop participants..

In We Are Nearer —where both teams were tasked with surrounding the same (green) object— I literally narrowed-down the game board. Having a same object that both teams are after resulted in opponents encountering each other more quickly in the physical space. As in this case players were all heading towards the same direction (where the digitally simulated object was located), a player not only had to collectively navigate within one’s own team to be able to surround this object, but also had to be more vigilant of opponents in physical game space as (s)he could disqualify the player with his/her camera (if a player would see an opponent (s)he could kick him/her out of the game by taking a picture of him/her and sharing that picture in the group chat). With the option of ‘snapping’ opponents with the camera function, more interesting dynamics emerged between physical and virtual game space. As an example, I will use a student’s field note that describes a fragment of the closing in on the game board

in We Are Nearer where an interesting tension occurred between physical and virtual game space: I just passed cinema ‘t Hoogt in the direction of the City Hall. I was surprised to see a teammate who came from the other direction. I didn’t know him very well, and had barely talked to him before [in real life]. I was conscious of this as I approached him. We greeted each other and started talking about the game. As we were talking, he found out via WhatsApp that he had just now been photographed. A photo of him had just been posted in the chat-group. He showed me the picture. I was not ‘seen’ by the camera as I was just around the corner at the moment the picture was taken. Assuming that the photographer knew he missed me [after all, the person must have seen two dots and not just one], I made a split second decision to run away out of the dangerous area. I told my team member that I needed to get out of the street. I had a brief moment of doubt after I saw the picture and before I started running, much like some kind of invisible barrier. I assume that my teammate experienced this too: I base this assumption on what he said afterwards and the hesitation that I believe to have read in his face before he started running. Then he ran after me to a safe place where we felt safe enough to walk at a normal pace.

As we walked further, we talked again. He told me that he had not expected me to run so suddenly. He seemed surprised at his own behaviour. He said: “It’s weird to suddenly run through the city”. When I asked him why so, he said: “It just isn’t the

kind of thing you normally do in the middle of the city.” He looked clearly surprised by our sudden action.

Thomas Verra, 2015

In many of the students’ field notes, I was able to read that in all three games, the players would navigate the city in ways that they normally never would. This is what a student wrote in his essay about the discovery of new places in You Are Near: Finally, after playing the game, many players indicated that they had been in places they would have never visited before playing the game.

Floris Koster, 2015

Furthermore, the games afforded more focus on detail of the environment. An example of a student’s field note to illustrate this: The most striking about using the map app was the way users are incentivised to look at a space they already know in a different way. Since you cannot literally see the street pattern on your digital map, but are forced to navigate using the dots on an otherwise empty screen, I have experienced that I would move differently through the city. For example, I was trying to take certain steps to find out what my position was and I would pay attention to details in the space I was in, as this would maybe allow me to tell my team members where I was.

Rosa Paasse, 2015

Where You Are Near was powerful in its disorientating effect, it was less interesting in its ability to include collective actions in the game space (such as that of collective navigation). Through the inclusion of GPS inscription and a chat function (which included both text as well as image files) collaborative forms of mapping could be examined. For instance, navigating the grey area in We Are Near and We Are Nearer is not an individual effort to align one’s virtual self with one’s physical self, instead, proceeding in the game requires to navigate the map in a collective manner. At the same time, including participant data enabled me, as ethnographer, to gain insight in how the game evolved. Therefore, I am also included as research participant in We Are Near(er). Furthermore, we can observe that non-players are added in the actants diagram of We Are Near(er). This is due to the fact that players in We Are Near(er) can use the camera function to disqualify players and thus make non-players out of them. We can also observe that places are added in the actants diagram of We Are Near(er). This is due to the fact that spatial stories could be created in these games with which places could gain a new/diverse meaning. I will further elaborate on spatial stories in the next section.

5.3.5 Co-creating spatial stories The concept spatial story was briefly introduced in chapter 2 and further described in the previous case study. Next, I explain why the creation of spatial stories is relevant for the questions that I pose in this doctoral research, and specifically with the third sub question —what kind of knowledge the use of map apps generates through embodied interaction.

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In order to understand the potential of spatial stories in the Near Games, we have to understand that spaces carry a narrative potentiality that is different to time. The reason that spatial stories are used in many games is because our minds value spaces differently than they value time. In a narrative structure, space and time tend to be conceptualised as separate entities while in games that involve movement in either physical or virtual game space these entities of space and time can overlap. For example, when asked where you are in a game, a reference can be made to time/level within the game and not necessarily to the space you occupy in it.

In my doctoral research, I am interested in the affordances of the map interface to create spatial stories and as a means to tell other people’s stories. My aim is to reconcile/juxtapose/confront different perspectives on an issue or to convey the different meanings that a same place can hold for different people. A powerful means to do so is through mobile mapping or games that use physical spaces that players have to move through (LBMGs). Emily Bembeneck —an associate director of pedagogical innovation at the University of Chicago— contends that, for games that seek to teach history for example, particular spaces and the progression of those spaces in the games are capable of carrying meaning without including text or a temporal marker. Bembeneck suggests that understanding events as changes in particular places or as a progression of locations, is more useful than understanding historical events when they are being told as markers on a timeline (Bembeneck, 2012). In Bembeneck’s view, marking events on a time line does not make it a story but the spatial dimension does. Movement itself, whether this entails changing within one’s location in virtual space or the change that one makes in moving from one physical location to another, is then the means through which a story can be told or conveyed.

Although my doctoral research is not concerned with conveying stories related to historical events, it does assign the same importance to the spatial dimension. In Mapping Invisibility, for example, this involved conveying a story in which the listener is required to move through geographical locations in which (s)he experiences the story in different time-frames. The effect of the spatial dimension is that the listener is confronted with different meanings that are assigned to a same geographical location, but (s)he also has to reconcile these with his/her own position in space at the moment of listening.

In chapter 6, I further elaborate on why the transfer of knowledge in this way makes it relevant for the domains that this doctoral research serves.

The Near Games work with spatial stories in a slightly different manner. The games afford the creation of spatial stories (some more than others) or the transfer of knowledge inherent in those stories (this will be even more the case in the game that is presented in the next section: Performative Mapping Game). Playing with the map incentivises users to construct spatial stories as a means to make sense of the map and their position in it. In this practice, physical places are given subjective or new meanings. However, it is in the collaborative creation of spatial stories (which We Are Near and We Are Nearer focus more on) and the transfer of the knowledge inherent in those stories (which, as we will see later, Performative Mapping Game primarily focuses on) that the map apps become interesting on a collective level. Here players can communicate, collaborate, and learn from each other with which I contend that the digital map in the games afford simultaneous collaborative practices. The difference and uniqueness of the map in comparison to other media lies in the spatial dimension that is incorporated in the learning experience.

In You Are Near, we could see that players create their own spatial stories by using own tactics or movements in physical space that will affect their virtual dot. This way, they are able to navigate the grey area. In the two games that follow (We Are Near and We Are Nearer), players make sense of the map and their position in it through the creation of spatial stories. These spatial stories not only help the players navigate the grey area to find themselves, but also help them to find their team members and their digitally simulated object. Thus, in these games, players rely on collaborative efforts to proceed in the game. The collaboratively constructed spatial stories are now afforded in three different ways: through text format and images (enabled by the chat function), and through GPS inscription.

The most important reason to incorporate those features —text, image, and GPS inscription— is to enable community led interaction, one that affords new ways of being together, playing together and communicating that would, in its turn, favour a collective learning experience. Jen Southern (2012) contends that game-play on the move affords making ‘remote’ others co-present with the pedestrian, with which face-toface communication is extended through mobile technologies. Looking at the degree of participation and the number of diverse active users in the chats while the games were played, I could confirm that the chat function incentivised participation among all players. A fragment of a student’s essay that backs this up: Players have not once been reluctant to play. While some players may have sent more messages than others - no measurements were taken of this - each player has written something at least once. Asking questions was part of this and was not felt as a restraint. During the game, communication between players became faster and more in quantity.

Sarah Enzlin, 2015

Furthermore, what was interesting to notice is that the setting in which the games were played encouraged a different kind of participation. Many of the students mentioned that playing the game in public space encouraged them to try things that in a classroom setting they might not do with which they would step out of their comfort zones. The fact that the students were still connected to each other in virtual game space and via the chat, enabled an exchange of ideas and thoughts about the game. But including the chat function not only afforded new forms of collaboration amongst players, it also allowed me, as ethnographer, to gain insight into the meanings that places were assigned. To illustrate, I will give an example of a student’s field note where she describes her experience with We Are Near: Especially when the team I was in was allowed to consult in advance, this mutual communication took an interesting turn. Because my team started using codewords, a joint spatial story was created. These code words had a number of implications. They not only reassured that the members of my team, including myself, could communicate better with each other. It also meant that we were giving new names to already existing places, a new map was created, which came to life as everyone walked through the city and communicated about these places together. These codewords were also drawn by our own frame of reference. For example, Janskerkhof was called “pafke” after the cigar shop that was located there.

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However, another team, with certain associations to this place, might have given it a completely different name. In this way, the place, or the street pattern through which we were walking was not only transformed into a space by the way in which individual team members used it, but it was also transformed into a joint practiced place by the fact that there were certain names given to it by the team.

Rosa Paasse, 2015

In this example, the spatial stories were afforded by the text function of the chat with which players could give new meaning to existing places, for example by using the word “pafke” to refer to Janskerkhof. Prior to playing the game, the team members agreed upon words for places that only they would understand. For example, in this same group the following meanings were assigned to other existing places: Rembrandtplein - Piet; Mariaplaats – Bidden; Centraal Station Utrecht – Te laat; Domplein – Uffenbuk; De Drift/Universiteitsbibliotheek – 7 meters; Janskerkhof – Pafke; Stadschouwburg – Roze; Wilhelminapark – Zwart; Wollff Cinema – Hondje; Oude Tivoli – U2; Nieuwe Tivoli – Spinvis; Lepelenplein – Bestek; Trans/Kromme Nieuwe Gracht – Onvoldoende; Ksjot – #fissa; Ledig Erf – Testament. We can see that the words that describe the places sometimes have an extraordinarily personal connotation and other times relate to previous experiences of the users in those places. If we were to ask other groups (for instance, elderly or people who don’t live in the city of Utrecht) to determine what places are important and what words to assign to those places, we would probably get very different results. Finding a language to describe places incentivises to think of the meaning that one administers to a place and the personal relation to it. Therefore, it can be regarded as creating a spatial story. As the group chat was used by both team members as well as members of the opposing team, the communication was often cryptic and, at times, even resulted in bizarre conversations in the group chat.

In the previous example, we could observe that the group members assigned words to places and used them as a way to communicate about the places in the game. Another way in which spatial stories were created is in the use of pictures that were sent to team members via the group chat. These items were used as a means to communicate to other team members where they were or where the digitally simulated object was located. Similarly to the text, the picture could not reveal too much of a place or the team would risk to lose the game. In the group chats that involved the use of pictures, we could mostly observe examples of street texts such as graffiti, street names, street numbers, text on stickers, etc. (some examples can be viewed in Figure 5.25), and pictures of construction materials, garbage bags, dumped material, etc. (some examples of pictures that were shared in the chat can be viewed in Figure 5.26). In all cases, the items that were photographed were given a new meaning by the players, and they became part of the game space. The new meaning that these items were assigned would only be understood by members of the same team, with which they created a temporary community in which spatial stories were created collectively within this community.

Figure 5.25 Some pictures that were shared in the group chat while the game We Are Near was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. In this case, street texts and street names were used in the communication between team members. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.26 Some pictures that were shared in the group chat while the game We Are Near was played by Utrecht University students in 2015. In this case, construction materials, garbage bags, dumped material, etc., were used in the communication between team members. Produced by workshop participants.

The games in this chapter all make use of mobile media to afford collaborative practices. We can state that co-creation or collaboration in the games is a direct result of the affordances of mobile media. Andrew Shrock (2015) formulated a typology of ‘communicative affordances’ of mobile media consisting of: 1) Portability. This is the portability of the mobile medium; 2) Availability. The user is always available, which ensures a high frequency in communication. They also facilitate direct communication with the user; 3) Locatability. The user can coordinate with mobile media, but can also be monitored by the same medium. Locative applications are not really used for direct communication yet; and 4) Multimediality. With a mobile medium, the user can communicate in more diverse ways. The medium can also produce and share images which has made communication more visual. (pp. 1235-1238).

We can assign GPS inscription to Shrock’s locatability and the chat function of the games to Shrock’s multimediality. Although Shrock contends that locatability is not really used for direct communication, we can observe that in the presented games of this chapter, locatability was indeed used for direct communication. This is partly due to the fact that players are incentivised to use the feature of GPS inscription not as a navigational aid, but as a means to create spatial stories with. As a result, group members used GPS drawings as a way of communicating with other team members (see for example Figure 5.21). We could also observe that the affordance of multimediality encouraged the players to adopt more playful approaches in the creation of spatial stories. This is clearly illustrated by the high number of images that were shared in the group chat and how, through these images, these items were included in the game space.

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The map apps that were presented in this case study have shown how collaborative practices in the creation of spatial stories are afforded by the digital map and by mobile technologies. Where until now the focus was on the collective co-creation of spatial stories, in the next case study the particular way of enacting the map and its embodied experience takes centre stage. Here the focus is more on embodied interaction with the map as a way of conveying a spatial story.

5.3.6 Positioning and contributions Similar to the previous case study (Walk Away), Near Games engages with spatial theories in an embodied way. However, in this chapter my focus is on the ability to play with others via the map interface. Similar to the previous case study, I focus on what this approach can contribute to invigorating ‘critique’ with which I predominantly seek to make a contribution to education.

In this section, I reflect on the different purposes I was seeking for with the Near Games (the three map apps presented in this sub-chapter) and the domains it serves. I do this by using an action matrix (see Figure 5.27). The three map apps of this sub-chapter involve (re)examining spatial theories through embodied and playful interactions with the map.

Furthermore, I have looked at how affordances of the map interface enable collaborative practices of play and how they incentivise the creation of spatial stories. At the same time, with these affordances (such as enabling a chat function in the game) I was able to take the role of ethnographer. If we position the games in the action matrix, the initial position of the Near Games (that is, where I start my research in this case study) lies between ‘imagining’ and ‘engaging’; imagining public space through the creation of spatial stories and engaging in an embodied way with spatial theories. The end position (what I aim for with the Near Games) lies between ‘engaging’ and ‘intervening’. These interventions in public space are purposed towards (re)examining spatial theories and not necessarily towards the creation of new theories. However, the mapping enactments contribute to changing perspectives on those theories with which indeed a change can take place. It is here where this case study primarily serves the educational domain.

All of the games that are presented in this section were played by university students; they were used in an educational setting to reflect on spatial theories and theories in the field of game studies. Furthermore, they were used for four consecutive years by different students but for the same course. In one case, a game was also used by a student for his bachelor thesis paper. The games have proven to be productive as a means to engage with the theories in a more experiential and embodied way. Reflecting on theories by using LBMGs is not only a novel research method for most university students, but it also contributes to having them use (new) methods to describe their experiences, such as auto-ethnography. The benefits of the games for knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer in this context are further described in chapter 6.

Figure 5.27

Note: Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Near Games. Adapted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https://doi.org/10.1080/237 3566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

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5.4 Performative Mapping Game A case on co-creating spatial stories

Figure 5.28 (part 1) Actants in the case study Performative Mapping Game. Overlay frame of Figure 5.28 (part 2) should be placed on Figure 5.28 (part 1) to visualise actants relevant for the case study Performative Mapping Game. Produced by author.

5.4.1 People, spaces, tools, data Through acting and (re)enacting stories while using GPS technology, the map interface in Performative Mapping Game looks at performative and playful ways of transferring site-specific knowledge. Performative Mapping Game is a LBMG where tasks are assigned to physical places in the city. A site-specific task involves an interaction with a site that can be characterised by its design, the personal history or experience with the place, habits in relation to the site, etc. A description of a task can be uploaded as a text, image, or sound file. This file becomes tied to the specific geographic location and can only be ‘opened’ by someone else who passes through those same geographic coordinates (with approximately 5 metres of margin). The task must then be completed after which it is uploaded to the map again. The results of the (collectively) performed tasks are uploaded in real time to the collective map after which scores can be assigned to the

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performed tasks.

Users of the app have one hour to create site specific tasks and one hour to perform them. Creating a task can be, for example, imitating or performing a statue, describing the essence of a place in two lines or making a poem out of the street names. This can either be in text, image, and/or audio file. In order to change from the modus ‘creating’ to ‘performing’ tasks, players go to the menu and change within the app to ‘performing tasks’. Having done so, they cannot add tasks to the map any longer; instead, a map is visualised that contains green dots in which each dot represents a task (see Figure 5.29).

These tasks can be ‘picked up’ by walking to those dots. Entering the same geographic coordinates ‘unlocks’ the task with which the description appears on the users’ screen.

The player then performs the task and uploads a documentation of his/her way of performing the task to the map. This can be done as text, image, and/or audio file. After the task is performed and the documentation is uploaded, the green dot turns blue (see Figure 5.30), and the player can navigate to the next green dot on the map to perform another task. Lastly, participants can go to the map interface and view the task descriptions, and the way they were performed. They can vote on the performed tasks through assigning scores (1 to 5) to them. The participant who has most scores assigned to his/ her task wins the game.

Figure 5.29 (left) & Figure 5.30 (right) On the left, a screenshot of the map interface in Performative Mapping Game in the modus ‘performing tasks’.

The green dots indicate the tasks that still need to be performed. Produced by workshop participants. On the right, a screenshot of the map interface in Performative Mapping Game in the modus ‘performing tasks’. The blue dots indicate the tasks that have been performed. Produced by workshop participants.

Performative Mapping Game was used in 2016 on the island of Gozo for a field-based Island Studies course.93 Approximately 15 students from Manchester University, Utrecht University, and the University of Malta participated (see Spaces > Institutional space > University in Figure 5.28). Furthermore, people who participated in this case study are: Utrecht University students (see People > Research participants > Students in Figure 5.28) over the course of four years; Jasper van Vught (academic tutor); myself —as designer of the app, workshop facilitator, and ethnographer— (see People > Research

93 The course was organised annually (from 2012 until 2016) with students of Manchester University and University of Malta on the island of Gozo. The course was set up by Chris Perkins and initiated by Sybille Lammes with a focus on playful pedagogic mapping exercises (Lammes et al., 2016). Together with other researchers (amongst others Alex Gekker, Sam Hind, Kate McLean, Jana Wendler, and Clancy Wilmott), I was able to test and evaluate the educational value of (in my case self-designed) playful mapping methods in the field.

participants > Myself in Figure 5.28); and Iván Fuciños Calle (the developer of the app).

The web app is designed and programmed using the PHP programming language with Laravel framework, OpenStreetMap (OSM) (see Tools > Software > Open-source software in Figure 5.28), and Leaflet JavaScript library. The tools that were used for this case study are: a mobile phone (see Tools > Hardware > Mobile phone in Figure 5.28), the Performative Mapping Game app (see Tools > Software > Self-designed apps in Figure 5.28), and a computer (see Tools > Hardware > Computer in Figure 5.28).

5.4.2 Navigating public space with an eye for detail In Performative Mapping Game, players navigate through public space with the idea to transform sites into tasks. While playing the game, the mindset of the participant changes as (s)he is constantly seeking to translate geographic sites into tasks (that are then to be performed by others). As these tasks incorporate public spaces and features in it, the participants are incentivised to give new/subjective meaning(s) to those places and their features. Some examples of how public spaces are transformed: upon seeing smoke coming from an alley a student assigned the task to write a little poem that captures the essence of smoke (see Figure 5.31). Another example: upon entering a noisy construction site another student assigned the task to use the sound as rhythm for a song that describes one’s relation to this place (see Figure 5.32).

Figure 5.31 (left) & Figure 5.32 (right) On the left, a screenshot of the interface in Performative Mapping Game in the modus ‘creating tasks’. In this example the task was assigned as text file. Produced by workshop participant. On the right, a screenshot of the interface in Performative Mapping Game in the modus ‘creating tasks’. In this example the task was assigned as image file. Produced by workshop participants.

While searching for tasks, players navigate public space with an eye for detail. The following student’s field note that describes his experience of the game clearly illustrates this: In my role as a participant, I am constantly looking for objects with which original tasks can be made, resulting in a different experience of physical spaces. The eye for detail makes it possible to perceive objects that had probably not been noticed in everyday perception, without adding a game element.

Sjors de Ruiter, 2016

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Furthermore, what the student mentions is the eye for detail that he does not have the same way outside of the game space. In many of the students’ field notes, I could see this reflection coming back. In this student’s essay, he could confirm that many other peers in his class were experiencing the same: In order to monitor the presence of my group members, I subtly share my experience in the hope that they will react: “I pay a lot of attention to details of the physical space. I have never noticed that beautiful bed around the Jacobskerk”. ….Frauke adds that she feels like a visitor in her own city because she experiences spaces fundamentally differently: “I have a much more complete picture of a space with all its details.

Sjors de Ruiter, 2016

This same participant mentioned in his essay that his sister lives above a shop that he passes by on a daily basis. While observing public space and looking for tasks to create, he notices that right opposite the shop there is a statue of two horses that he had never seen before. He decided to create a task out of the statue. We can observe that the game affords features/objects in public space to become part of the game space, and therefore, acquire a playful character. Thus, daily practices and seemingly mundane objects are given new meaning because of the game and the changed mind-set of the players.

What was less incentivised in the previous games and what I was seeking to include in this one is the link to personal stories in relation to physical places. In the previous game (We Are Nearer), we could see that this was achieved through sharing pictures of places and objects in the city that had been given new meanings. In the formulation of a task, however, one has to be much more articulate in what one wants to highlight or express about a place with which I sought to iterate on this aspect. In this case, appropriation of public space (items) was done through a spatial story that builds more on an individual/ subjective relation to (the item of) the place. The fact that participants did this individually and not collectively (like in the previous games) produced a more reflective attitude of the player. Furthermore, creating the task this way incentivises the player to focus on the city (and less on communication with other players) while including more details of the city in the game space.

Different to the games that were presented in the previous section, the way players navigate in this game depends on where task creators want the performers to navigate to.

However, how to navigate to the green dot is not predefined. As a matter of fact, a map of the city is shown in the background (different to the previous games where players could only see a grey surface and had to navigate this area). It is to emphasise that this game is not after new navigational strategies, but is more interested in the actual places and the (subjective) meanings that are assigned to those. In this game, navigating itself is, therefore, not as important as where to navigate to. However, once a player comes closer to a dot, (s)he will not get any indications as to where exactly the task is located, (s)he will have to explore this with his/her way of moving. With some of the players, this created interesting tensions between the private, parochial, and public domain. These tensions will be described in the following paragraphs where I talk about the affordance ‘inter-facing’.

5.4.3 Inter-facing between the public, the private, and the parochial We can observe that the tasks that were created by the students included features or items of public space in the game space. Interesting to note is that also commercial sites were included in the game space or in the spatial stories. For instance, tasks were assigned in a supermarket, a cafe, a shop selling beds, a shop selling sunglasses, and other non-public places. Due to the playful state of mind of the participants, the commercial sites were given new meanings. With some of the players who were performing the tasks, this produced a confusion when they were navigating the map in search of the location of the task. For instance, one player saw that the she was standing on the green dot, but it was in front of a supermarket. She did not understand where the task could be as there was nothing that matched the description outside of the supermarket. It did not occur to her that the supermarket itself could also be included in the game space. It was only after a while that she understood that she had to enter the supermarket to perform the task. She mentioned that she realised that she was conditioned in her way of thinking about what is public and what is private, and what to include in the game space.

Appropriating commercial sites to include them in the spatial stories of the players is the opposite of what is done with LBMGs such as first uses of Pokémon Go.94 Games such as these use the playful state of mind of the players to lure them into consumption behaviour through letting them pass by commercial sites that are targeted towards their needs or wishes. In Performative Mapping Game those commercial sites are, conversely, being appropriated by some of the players for their own needs and wishes with which those sites are given new or subjective meanings. These sites are used in the spatial stories of the players with which they become something more/different than merely a place for commerce. Taking into consideration that increasingly more public spaces in the city are being capitalised on, this development —in which games seek to appropriate commercial sites to give them new uses or meanings— is an interesting potential that is afforded by this app. It helps broaden the idea of the traditionally segregated public, private, and parochial domains of the city. In this game, the players have demonstrated that there are interesting possibilities to manoeuvre in-between those domains and re-imagine them (as was the case with the student who was standing in front of the supermarket) which can be considered a form of inter-facing.

5.4.4 Co-creating and performing spatial stories Looking at the actants diagram of Performative Mapping Game and comparing this diagram to the previous games, we can see that the main difference lies in the fact that there is no application data (digitally simulated object or avatars) in this game (see Figure 5.28). Furthermore, where in the previous games I worked with GPS inscription as a way of playing with the map and with others via the map, here GPS inscription is not incorporated, for which streets are also less relevant. Furthermore, in the previous games, GPS inscription was used as a way to tell spatial stories with. In Performative

94 Here, I refer to the very first design and implementation of Pokémon Go in the United States. Over the years the game has changed, and in Pokémon Go in Europe only culturally and socially significant sites can be nominated and approved (collaboratively, by players-mappers) as points of attraction in the game.

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Mapping Game, spatial stories are told by using text (see Data > Participant data > Text inscription in Figure 5.28), image (see Data > Participant data > Image file in Figure 5.28), and/or audio files (see Data > Participant data > Audio file in Figure 5.28) in both the formulation of tasks as well as in performing of those tasks. The focus is then on how places are given new/diverse meanings by both the task creator as well as the one(s) who performs it.

We can also see that in the tasks that are performed, local residents were sometimes included in the game space, for instance, in tasks that require the performer to ask something to a local resident (see People > Public > Passers-by in Figure 5.28). Non-players are now not included in the diagram because there was no such thing as ‘snapping’ and disqualifying opponents as was the case in the Near Games. Earphones are also included which is due to the fact that audio is added as participant data (see Tools > Hardware > Earphones in Figure 5.28). Many students mentioned that they would have liked to have the ability to add a video of their performed tasks. Unfortunately, this option was not iterated on, and therefore not tested.

Having chosen to leave the time element open, I expected to see performances of tasks that would reveal much more of one’s personal relation to a place the same way that the task creator approached public space. I could observe that the tasks were performed in a rather more ludic way and were shorter in time-frame.95 In performing the tasks, players were not inclined to incorporate their personal experiences of a place in the same way that the task creator often did. Furthermore, I could observe that some of the tasks are looking to play with conventions that exist in public spaces, and that the participants sought to create a task that would incentivise performers to break those conventions. In the way that the tasks were performed, I could see a lot of use of humour as a way to deal with these conventions. As a consequence, according to some of the students, passers-by (also included in the diagram in figure 5.28) would sometimes get involved, as they would be puzzled by what the performers were doing.

What characterises the creation of tasks in Performative Mapping Game is that the player has to observe public space more consciously and create spatial stories with which these places are given new/subjective meanings. However, it does not stay with the formulation of a task, the task gets materialised in the way in which it is performed. The story, this way, becomes a co-creation between the task maker and the task performer.

5.4.5 The playful affordances of Performative Mapping Game Different to the previous games, time in this case study is not an equal denominator for all players. Where in the ‘Near’ games, players were experiencing time pressure the same way as they were all playing the game simultaneously, here the participants had an hour to freely create and perform tasks upon their liking. Players could decide for themselves how many tasks they wanted to create and how much time they wanted to dedicate on performing a task within the hour that they had. Furthermore, the players were incentivised to focus more on quality. The incentive was built-in in the way participants could vote on the performed tasks through assigning scores to them after playing the game.

95 The short time-frame that the students adapted can be explained by the fact that this game was always played as the last one of the day, after the students had played the previously presented games. Therefore, they already started Performative Mapping Game with a notion of time pressure.

In the evaluations, I could observe that elements of surprise, aesthetics, and humour became much more leading than the number of tasks performed or the time-frame with which they were performed. In this way, the quality of the spatial stories prevailed.

If we look at all the tasks that were uploaded by the students who played the game, we can distinguish between three categories: (1) tasks that sought to appropriate (an item of) public space with the idea to break conventions (see Figure 5.33); (2) tasks that sought to use public art, public statues, or items of public space with the idea to give them new/ subjective meanings (see Figure 5.34); and (3) tasks that sought to perform or re-enact a certain item, statue, or idea (see Figure 5.35).

Figure 5.33 Pictures that were uploaded by Utrecht University students who were playing Performative Mapping Game in 2015. These examples depict tasks that sought to appropriate (an item of) public space with the idea to break conventions. Produced by workshop participants.

Figure 5.34 Pictures that were uploaded by Utrecht University students who were playing Performative Mapping Game in 2015. These examples depict tasks that sought to use public art, public statues, or items of public space with the idea to give them new meaning. Produced by workshop participants.

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Figure 5.35 Pictures that were uploaded by Utrecht University students who were playing Performative Mapping Game in 2015. These examples depict tasks that sought to perform or re-enact a certain item, statue, or idea. Produced by workshop participants.

Looking at the files that were uploaded by the students, we can state that Performative Mapping Game incentivised to break conventions regarding public space uses —more than the previous Near Games— which is also clearly illustrated by the way in which the students describe their experiences of the game.

Different to the creation of tasks (which was on an individual basis and in a more reflective modus), performing the tasks happened in pairs or groups in which one was filming while the other(s) was/were performing the task. A possible contribution to the playful state of mind might be the fact that performing tasks in pairs/ groups was experienced as less confronting by the students. On the other hand, knowing that other students were performing tasks at the same time elsewhere in the city created a sense of community according to some of the students.

5.4.6 Positioning and contributions Where the previous games focused on collective navigation and the collaborative creation of spatial stories, Performative Mapping Game seeks to incorporate public space items in the game space through the creation of spatial stories. Furthermore, whereas in the previous games, the design of the map apps incentivised city navigation in new ways —where the focus is more on the GPS inscription as indicated in the diagram of Figure 5.17 and 5.18— in Performative Mapping Game I am rather more interested in how participants perceive (known) places in different ways. Thus, here the focus is more on ‘places’ (see Spaces > Physical space > Places in Figure 5.28).

Performative Mapping Game incentivises to engage with a geographical site in a more subjective (in the creation of tasks) and playful (in the performing of tasks) way. It enables the task creator to contemplate public space from one’s own perspective after which the performer engages in the spatial story that was initiated by the task creator.

The story, this way, becomes materialised and co-constructed, a co-creation between maker and performer. My aim with the app is to have participants observe public space more consciously and imagine what other uses or meanings places can hold. The initial position where I place Performative Mapping Game, therefore, lies between ‘observe’ and ‘imagine’ in the action matrix in Figure 5.36. Following the spatial story that was initiated by the task creator can be seen as a form of ‘intervening’, as the way in which the performers engage with the geographical site does not follow existing conventions in public space. We could clearly see this when commercial sites were incorporated in the stories or the way in which sites were appropriated in different ways by the

performers. As a result, interesting tensions occurred between the public, private, and parochial domains of the city. Existing conventions regarding those domains changed and were given new meaning. Although the game was used in an educational setting — where it predominantly serves the academic community— it is in these tensions and in the way in which people and places outside of the game became involved that the case could also serve a societal purpose. For example, the potential for commercial sites to be appropriated in the game space and acquire new meanings is a powerful way to change existing conventions in public space. Although this new meaning was given by and co-created between task creator and task performer, the public —through observing the task performer— could potentially also become involved in the spatial story.

Figure 5.36

Note: Action matrix indicating the (aimed) movements and positions in the case study Performative Mapping Game. Adapted from “Assembling Researchers in Design and the Humanities in a Circular Ecology”, by G. Verstraete, J. Adriaanse, E. van de Wiel, and D. Hamers, 2021. GeoHumanities. Retrieved May 5, 2021, from https:// doi.org/10.1080/2373566X.2021.1915699. CC 2021 BY-NC-ND 4.0.

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6. INTERPRETATION In the previous three chapters, an analytical framework was applied, consisting of attributes (frame, legend, time, and navigation) and affordances (co-creating, inter-facing, playing, and performing) to examine the eight case studies and ten apps of this doctoral research. In this chapter —the interpretive section of the book— I reflect on the knowledge that is produced and made transferable with the apps. For this examination, I use the earlier presented affordances co-creating, inter-facing, performing, and playing.

Furthermore, I look at the innovative aspects of this doctoral research in the approach that is suggested for knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer, with which I seek to make a contribution to three different domains: society, research, and education.

As I stated in the first chapter of this book, I examine the ways in which mobile mapping interfaces can afford participation in public (space) issues and the kind of knowledge that embodied interaction with digital maps can produce. To answer this overarching research question, three sub-questions were presented that will each be answered in the following way: In section 6.1, I answer the first sub-question: which characteristics of map apps have the potential to engage citizens in public (space) issues? This taps into the case studies that are described in chapter 3. The cases Mapping Invisibility and Mapping Invisible Makers concern applications/a digital map interface that are designed in such a way that disadvantaged communities are incentivised to participate in the public domain while making an issue public. I look at how knowledge is produced and made transferable in this approach with the idea of empowering certain communities and encouraging civic engagement. Here, the PhD predominantly makes a societal contribution.

In section 6.2, I answer the second sub-question: which potentials and/or uses of map apps can be applied as ethno-cartography? This taps into the case studies that are described in chapter 4 where I examine a mobile and participatory mapping approach purposed for ethnographic research. The cases Co-creating Reality, Between Realities, and What Moves You, all involve a method for collective data-aggregation in situ. In these cases, data is collectively constructed over time and updated in real time with which co-creation is presented as an affordance to generate and/or exchange knowledge collectively in situ. I look at the benefits and limitations of the real time component in this approach. Here, the PhD predominantly makes a contribution to research.

In two cases of this doctoral research —Mapping Invisibility (chapter 3) and What Moves You (chapter 4)— I look at the link between affect and cartography, and more specifically, at how emotions can be mapped collectively within an ethnographic approach. I compare the presented approach in these self-designed apps to other apps in design research that concern mapping of emotions. I point out where the presented approach innovates on other design research examples for which I use Lisa Feldman Barrett’s study on emotions. Here also the PhD’s contribution is mainly to research.

In section 6.3, I answer the third sub-question: what kind of learning experiences does Digital Performative Mapping generate? This taps into the case studies that are described in chapter 5 where I look at mapping as embodied learning. Characteristic for this chapter is that all the case studies comprise location-based mobile games that 213

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make use of a map interface. In these games a continuous exchange takes place between physical and virtual game space. Reflecting on the value of the games for learning, I build on theories of play and embodied interaction in field-based learning. Here, the PhD predominantly makes a contribution to education.

Depending on the context where the research was performed and who participated in it, the presented affordances —co-creating, performing, playing and inter-facing— can mean different things. It was, therefore, necessary to contextualise each app use and the design choices (which was done in the previous three chapters). In this chapter, the focus is rather more on what the affordances can contribute to knowledge for the three domains that this PhD serves. Relations between the cases are, therefore, drawn from this perspective.

6.1 Contribution of Digital Performative Mapping to civic engagement In chapter 3 of this book, I look at how Digital Performative Mapping can incentivise civic engagement in light of participation in public (space) issues, and more specifically, at how people can participate in the public domain, who (due to various reasons) have limited access to this domain or are less likely to participate in it. Next, I look at practices (co-creating, inter-facing, and performing) that are afforded by Digital Performative Mapping in the way in which they promote 1. Participatory sense-making. Here, co-creating is presented as a practice of collective meaning-making with the aim to voice and empower disadvantaged communities.

2. (Ex)changing and aligning perspectives. Here, inter-facing is presented as a practice of mapping that involves (ex)changing and aligning points of view with the aim to meet the proverbial ‘other’.

3. Making things public. Here, performing is presented as an approach to map reading that is able to produce and transfer knowledge in innovative ways with the aim to make an issue public and potentially include new publics.

6.1.1 Co-creating as a practice of participatory sense-making In a number of case studies, I examine how action and meaning-making are coupled in the way in which certain map attributes are scrutinised in action, such as the categories that are mapped or the words assigned to the map’s legend. The relationship between meaning and action has been examined by many philosophers, but one of the first to describe this relation was Ludwig Wittgenstein in his in 1958 Philosophical Investigations (2009). In this later work, Wittgenstein turned his attention to the philosophy of language and the nature of meaning where he developed a model of language not as an outward expression of inward mental states (which is a more positivist view that characterises his earlier work), but as an activity. According to Wittgenstein, it is language as an action that gives it meaning. Therefore, he proposed a philosophical concept called language-games with which he sought to demonstrate that independently of use, a word or sentence does not yet ‘say’ anything, it only acquires significance if we fix it within some context of use, in the actions into which the language is woven.

Where a word acquires significance through context of use, data acquires meaning through the action of mapping. Psychologist Karl Weick (1993) was one of the first to introduce the term sense-making in relation to mapping. Weick refers to it as the process by which people give meaning to their collective experience; the ability to make sense of the world and its events, the way in which people, places, and events are connected. Here, Weick compares the process of cognitive sense-making to cartography. When some of the earliest cartographers rendered maps, two representations of the same area may have looked different depending on factors the individual map-maker chose to focus on, as well as what they experienced. Cartography and sense-making are, therefore, both acts of creativity and analysis; identifying and interpreting facts amongst a continuous stream of data.

In map-making, there are different attributes through which meaning-making occurs.

In traditional/analogue map-making, the cartographer is the one who, by default, defines the categories to be mapped (or the words for the legend) and determines what to include and exclude in regard to the frame and the scale that is applied. Furthermore, data is interpreted, categorised, and materialised by the cartographer, which in effect, is to be regarded as a practice of meaning-making that, in traditional cartography, is performed mostly and solely by the cartographer. When it comes to reading those maps, relations are drawn between the different categories which again can be regarded as a process of meaning-making in which case the map reader is involved.

With maps being digitised, the relation between map-maker and map reader has radically altered. The practice of meaning-making, in digital maps, constitutes a continuous interaction between map-maker, map reader and the map interface that is interacted with. To reflect on this changed relation with maps and describe the (added) value of my map apps for society, I use theories from both computer science (and more specifically the fields of HCI and interaction design) and humanities. A well-known scholar who operates at the intersection of computer science and social science is Paul Dourish. In the field of HCI, Dourish (1999) seeks to demonstrate the linkages between action and meaning by defining the relationship between the two (action and meaning) through ‘intentionality’ and ‘coupling’. With intentionality Dourish refers to “a referential relationship between two entities” (p. 12), something that tells something about…words, ideas and maps, for example, are intentional phenomena since they tell something about the world. What Dourish seeks to examine with embodied interaction is how intentional phenomena relates to human action and thus, how coupling takes place.

With coupling96 Dourish refers to the degree of coordination of elements and how that coordination is maintained. To give an example in the field of HCI; when I use a mouse with my hand, the cursor on the screen moves directly with the mouse, so that there is an effective coupling of hand, mouse, and cursor.

In my own map app designs, I seek to construct linkages between action and meaning while including multiple actors in this practice. For example, in Mapping Invisibility, intentionality lies in the way the map’s legend is constructed prior to the workshop as it tells something about how the participants view the undocumented. However, the words acquire significance within the context of use, that is, within the practice of collec-

96 Elsewhere this is also called perception-action coupling.

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tive mapping. Coupling happens in this stage, in the workshop between guide and guest, between the different cartographers and the map (guided by the legend), and between the cartographers and their environment. Meaning then arises from the way in which these two (intentionality and coupling) are coordinated. To illustrate: an emotion of the legend will be coupled to the undocumented connotation with the word that is mapped, the place the cartographers pass by, and the conversation that the two are having. This is not a smooth process like the earlier described example of mouse and cursor, but one that entails hesitation, stumbling, and faltering. It is in this ‘porous’ space that coordination between intentionality and coupling takes place and is constantly revised. Revising makes the experience (of meaning-making) interesting from a societal perspective.

The rearrangement would sometimes result in the introduction of new words that were better equipped to describe the meaning that the undocumented assigned to the emotion, or words that were able to create a better understanding between host and guest. Important here is that meaning-making is intertwined with actions and coordination and that it takes place in public space. It is through those actions in this context that the legend (as map attribute) acquires societal significance.

In What Moves You, intentionality lies in the way that the legend was predefined by fellow researchers prior to the Dutch Design Week event as it tells something about how these participants view the event. As in Mapping Invisibility, the words/categories acquire significance within the context of use, that is, within the practice of collective mapping during the event. Different to Mapping Invisibility, though, the words of the legend were not discussed, but they were given context (and colour) through pictures that were uploaded by the participants. The words could mean different things to different people. This is the stage where coupling takes place. The diverse interpretations of the legend would become embedded in the map as the mapping evolved. The way in which intentionality and coupling are then coordinated is the process of meaning-making. The meaning-making process, in this case study, was more of a collective process rather than a collaborative one (participants did not collaborate directly, but the map was indeed generated collectively over time). Furthermore, co-creation in this case also took place in the definition of the map’s frame with which participants could choose what parts of the map to include under the denominator of Dutch Design Week.

This process of collective framing (also coupling) unfolds as the mapping evolves. This is relevant for the societal domain because it enables to continuously include diverse and new participants in the practice of meaning-making.

In Co-creating Reality, words for the legend are not examined and refined but arise from collaborative actions in the field. We can say that the intentionality lies in the way the map’s legend is co-created and constructed by the cartographers in the walk. In this case, the words that are proposed to describe practices of informal use of space say something about how the participants view their environment. Coupling also happens in the walk, but in this case, between the participants/cartographers and between the participants experience of their surrounding in relation to the incoming words. Meaning arises from the way in which intentionality and coupling are coordinated. Here, coordination entails that the environment is observed as new every time new words are introduced to describe that environment. In this case, meaning-making is intertwined with the actions of walking, observing, communicating, and revising. It is through those actions that the words of the legend (as map attribute) acquire significance. Participatory sense-making thus, looks at how people, with their bodies in the immediate

moment of interacting with other people and with the map interface (and its attributes), attune and couple to each other in interaction. The relevance for the societal domain is that it enables participants to attain new perspectives on an issue and interrogate own (ingrained) perspectives.

6.1.2 Inter-facing as a practice of (ex)changing and aligning To determine how Digital Performative Mapping can engage people in public (space) issues, it is imperative to examine the map’s mediating interfaces. After all, in today’s digital cartographies, the interface (more so than the map) is the mediator in the process of meaning-making. Although I contend that the participatory qualities of digital mapping lie in the iterative process of (re)making maps, the interfaces’ underlying mechanisms play a pivotal role in the more political questions that concern map design, such as who participates and in what direction participation is steered. With this PhD —where I use design research while looking at participation, digital maps, and public (space) issues— I address those political dimensions in the case studies where I seek to make a societal domain. Therefore, I not only look at the mediating interfaces, but also turn my attention to the people who participate and how relevant new forms of participation can be incorporated into the map apps.

Inter-facing is presented as a practice of Digital Performative Mapping that has the potential to (re)connect with the proverbial ‘other’, which we can also think of it as a practice of perspective taking. Edith Ackermann (1996) contends that perspective taking involves “both differentiation and coordination of viewpoints” (p. 4), e.g., to transmit another individual’s viewpoint and thus foster values related to empathy (Schaper, 2018). For this to happen, however, the listener first has to be triggered and confronted with his/her own (preconceived) ideas. In the case of Mapping Invisibility, perspective-taking starts prior to the phase where the legend is discussed in the walk, to be precise a week before the workshop when the participants are asked to imagine the position of the undocumented and come up with words that they consider relevant to describe their feelings. It is here where they start the work on taking the perspective of ‘the other’. During the workshop, in the walk, they are then confronted with their choices and are able to revise those in dialogue/conjunction with the undocumented.

The creation of the map depended on the dialogue between host and guest with which the map could take new directions. Mapping in this context is to be approached as a practice that is performed by multiple actors and the ways in which they engage with one another; one that involves inter-facing (in this case between the undocumented migrant and the participant). I introduced/invented this term ‘inter-facing’ because it is a practice that is afforded by the digital map interface, but rather than focusing on the map interface as an object or graphical representation my focus goes out to what it does. Here, I set off from Alexander Galloway’s (2012) notion of the interface as a form of relationship with technology; the interface is not something —some kind of technological object or boundary point— but rather produces something. Branden Hookway, in a similar vein, contends that “interfaces are sites of contestation between human and machine, the material and the social, the political and the technological; they are encounters with and through technology” (2014, p.9). Interfaces should, therefore, be seen as processes, as inter-facings.

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What is important in the case study Mapping Invisibility is that meaning was given to the words of the legend through dialogue while walking. A number of participants mentioned to be mostly present in the conversation. In this conversation, they would sometimes lose track of time and place. Thus, mapping in this approach does not necessarily take place in time and space, but is also capable of constituting both. As a landscape architect, James Corner (1999) once stated —and what I underlined with this case study— that “the agency of mapping lies in neither reproduction nor imposition but rather in uncovering realities previously unseen or unimagined, even across seemingly exhausted grounds. Thus, mapping unfolds potential; it remakes territory over and over again, each time with new and diverse consequences.” (p. 213). This was also clearly illustrated by some of the participants who stated that known places in the city were approached anew, or that these places were given a new meaning to them due to the mapping.

Furthermore, in Mapping Invisibility the user (the story-listener) of the map app in the third time-frame (see Figure 6.1) has to align with the undocumented for the story to unfold. The map reader is literally inter-facing between the audio and his/her environment, trying to make sense of it by what he/she hears and through his/her movement in public space. His/her direction and pace of walking determine how much of the map is presented to him/her with which listening involves bodily action. With this active way of listening, the map readers temporarily align with the undocumented. At the same time, the map app affords the undocumented to partake in the public domain through the ability to share their stories with this new public. In the next section, I will elaborate more on this.

Figure 6.1 Mapping Invisibility represented in three time-frames (this diagram was also used in chapter 3). Produced by author.

6.1.3 Performing as a practice of making public Where I examine performing as affordance of Digital Performative Mapping, I look at how the user in his/her way of enacting the map is able to generate new publics. Thus, performing is presented as a practice of making an issue public and by doing so it looks at its potential to include others in (discussing) the issue.

In Mapping Invisibility, for example, the story-listener has to engage with the other (the undocumented) through his/her way of moving in public space. Certain actions are necessary to unlock knowledge that lies enclosed in the map. What parts of the map are unlocked depends on where one is and one’s willingness to engage. In Mapping Invisibility, the potential to include new publics is achieved by unsettling the map reader (in the way in which uncertainty is built in the app) - the story listener never knows if (s) he takes a step in the right direction; the only way to find out is by actively listening and coordinating one’s movements to the story that is listened to. This results in, amongst others, unexpected movements, sudden turns, contemplations in public space where it is least expected, etc. This, in turn, triggers curiosity with passers-by and potentially creates an opening for them to ask and engage with the issue.

In Mapping Invisibility, this form of engaging was still implicit. A way in which the public is engaged in a more explicit way is in What Moves You. In this case, the map is projected on buildings that participate in the Dutch Design Week event. While walking around with a measuring wheel and mobile projector, I project the map and the pictures on buildings with which I am able to reach a broader public. At the same time, it enables to include the background of the map (the city) in the debate. The building where the map is projected is equally important in the discussion about what the map represents and who this representation belongs to. Here, I am a mediator between the map that is created (and constantly updated) by the visitors of the event and the public viewing the map. Together with the public (the viewers), I navigate this map; I discuss which parts of the map we want to see and what pictures we want to zoom-in. The performative approach (which I describe as performing as affordance of digital mapping) in this practice was a prerequisite to make the issue public and expend the notion of the public.

6.2 Contribution of Digital Performative Mapping to design driven ethnography In serving research, the PhD looks at design as condition for mapping to enable multiple participants engage in the practice of meaning-making. In chapter 4 of this book, I focus on participatory and mobile methods in ethnography for research purpose. Next, I look at practices (co-creating, inter-facing, and performing) that are afforded by Digital Performative Mapping in the way in which they promote: 1. Participatory ethnography. Here, I look at co-creation in data collection and data representation as practice for participatory ethnography with a focus on the (added) value of mobile and digital methods for research.

2. Juxtaposing positions. Here, I look at inter-facing as a practice of Digital Performative Mapping to juxtapose views or perspectives —such as juxtaposing formal and informal, or top-down and bottom-up perspectives on city related issues— for ethnographic research.

3. En-acting in mobility. Here, I look at how knowledge is en-acted through performing as a practice of Digital Performative Mapping. The focus in this approach is on embodied walking and the (added) value of the real-time component in research methods.

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6.2.1 Co-creating as a practice of participatory ethnography There are two phases in which I examine co-creation as practice of Digital Performative Mapping in participatory ethnography. Firstly, I look at co-creation in data-collection and secondly, I look at co-creation in data-representation. Important in the presented approach is the way in which mapping takes place in real time and in mobility. Next, I describe the added value of these components for participatory ethnography.

Where it concerns data collection, I look at how participants can have a say in the categories that data is collected for as a means to engage them in the process of meaning-making. Where attributes such as the frame, scale, and legend belong to the semiotics (or the language) of cartography, it is according to Kainz (2020), in the way in which these attributes are modelled —how the map’s categories for the legend are defined— and how these attributes create a spatio-temporal relation —how the chosen categories are linked to geo-coordinates—, that meaning is conveyed. In the case studies of chapter 4, I have given examples of map apps that enable the cartographers to negotiate how the attributes are modelled and how they create a spatio-temporal relation, with which the presented map apps enable to convey meaning in a collective manner. In this section, where the PhD focuses on its contribution to research, I look at the value of the real-time and mobile component of this mapping for the practice of sense-making. I contend that it is predominantly due to the affordance of the map app to co-create certain map attributes (such as the legend) in combination with the technology used (the mobile and real time component), that mapping is relevant for this domain as a collective endeavour of meaning-making.

In most of the case studies where I perform participatory ethnography the map is updated in real time (for example, in Mapping Invisibility, Between Realities, What Moves You, and Walk Away). The benefits of having a direct input from one’s actions is that one’s actions can be adjusted accordingly, but also that the map can become an incentive for participation. For example, in What Moves You the presentations of the real-time mapping could inform visitors about the experience of Dutch Design Week according to the public. Projecting those ‘opinions’ on the event itself is a form of contrasting or adjoining what the participating institution wants to communicate (in line with Lefebvre’s notion of conceived space) and what the event actually communicates according to the public (in line with Lefebvre’s notion of perceived and lived space). The map here, functions as the interface and becomes a conversation piece to discuss the discrepancies between conceived , perceived, and lived experiences.

Digital Performative Mapping in mobility and in real time should not be compared to traditional mapping due to a variety of factors. One of them is that the communicational value of the map (as it is conceptualised in traditional cartography) decreases due to the fact that the map is updated in real time. If we look at Co-creating Reality, for example, the map’s legend is continuously updated with which new categories are added to the map while the map is constructed collectively. The previously walked areas do not include those new added categories with which the map fails to generate an equal comparison of each category over the map’s geographical coordinates.97 Instead of comparing

97 This is a problem that traditional/analogue maps encounter to a lesser extent due to the fact that data interpretation usually happens after data collection.

analogue with digital maps it is, therefore, more productive to focus on the benefits and newly added values of the real-time and mobile component of digital mapping and appropriate mapping for different purposes. For example, the experiential aspect of doing field based research becomes leading in this approach. Also, the words assigned to categories, and the different media types that can be added (pictures or videos that are taken and uploaded while mapping) become relevant to convey a specific message, as I have shown in many of my case studies.

For example, in Co-creating Reality, the map’s legend was more important than the map, and in Between Realities, the tensions between the different performers in the square became vividly clear in the pictures and videos that were uploaded while the GPS inscription was only able to communicate those tensions to a certain extent. In Mapping Invisibility, in turn, the pictures and dialogues were able to communicate a very subjective relation to certain places and link them to emotions. Although the media types I include vary (depending on the participants I work with and the effects/affects I seek for) the map as spatial representation is only a part of the story. It is a vehicle through which to gain new insights (thus serving research), but never an end in itself. Therefore, the focus is not on the map as a representation, but on factors such as who is involved in data collection and data representation and in what way, what kind of data/media can be uploaded to the map and how this is productive in communicating certain insights.

This practice is particularly interesting for design research as design researchers are accustomed to working with different media types, they seek for a thick description and/ or often work with multiple actors or in multi and trans-disciplinary settings. Furthermore, design researchers are often more interested in looking for new possibilities rather than focusing on finding explanations of the existing.

In the case studies where I apply participatory ethnographic research, I was particularly interested in how emotions (in relation to public space) could be mapped collectively.

The reason for this interest is that, over the last decades, the work on affect has made a noticeable emergence in cartography and human geography in which the notion was adopted that affect is central to the life of cities (Thrift, 2004). This affective turn challenges cartesian notions of cartography where emotions are rarely considered relevant in academic research and practice. Emotional geographies, on the other hand, encompass a growing collaboration between disciplines, such as geography, gender studies, cultural studies, psychology, sociology, anthropology, and other disciplines to understand how the world is mediated by feelings (Thien, 2005). In the case studies where I work with emotions, I use theories from psychology to inform my research practice while looking at other examples of design research where emotions (in relation to public space) are mapped collectively to point out where the innovative aspects of my map apps lie.

In my practice, I am inspired and informed by Lisa Feldman Barrett’s (2006) theory on emotions as this theory is relevant for my earlier described approach in data collection in how the map’s categories should not be approached as an end in themselves, but rather a point of departure to scrutinise those very categories. Barrett is an academic in the field of psychology who has studied emotions for over four decades and who conceptu-

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alises emotions as social constructs.98 Barrett argues that to comprehend the complex world of emotions, they should not be perceived as the answer to why people do certain things —such as people’s reaction to a certain emotion— but emotions should rather be approached as “the question - the things whose perception needs to be explained.” (p. 46). Looking at examples of design research where emotions are mapped, I could mostly find research on how emotional reactions are mapped (such as Christian Nold’s Bio Mapping project) or how people assign emotions to certain geo-coordinates (such as Jiří Pánek’s web app Emotional Maps) without unpacking the words that are assigned to the emotion in the first place.

To illustrate: In Christian Nold’s Bio Mapping (2009), individuals make use of the information they gather about their own bodies to plot a map that highlights points of high and low arousal in relation to places in the city. The Bio Mapping tool allows a wearer to record his/her Galvanic Skin Response (GSR), which is a simple indicator of emotional arousal in conjunction with his/her geographical location (see Figure 6.2). According to Nold, citizens can, this way, construct maps that visualise where they feel stressed or relaxed (see Figure 6.3).

Figure 6.2 (left) & Figure 6.3 (right)

Note: On the left the Bio Mapping device: GPS, finger-cuffs, and data logger. On the right a visualisation of Bio Mapping data plotted on Google Earth. The height of the track indicates the physiological arousal at that point.

Reprinted from “Introduction: Emotional Cartography. Technologies of the Self”, by C. Nold, 2009, pp. 2 - 13.

Emotional Cartography (http://emotionalcartography.net/EmotionalCartography.pdf). CC 3.0 License.

Another example: In Jiří Pánek’s Mapping Citizens’ Emotions, data was collected from citizens via paper-based questionnaires in the streets of the city Olomuc (Czech Republic) and an online web-map questionnaire. Interviewers were scattered around the city of Olomouc with the idea to interact with people on the street, while the online web-map surveys could reach people who are less mobile. The way the surveyors could respond to the questions was by drawing points, lines, and polygons. This way, they could demarcate the areas and borders on the map that would correspond to answering the

98 The idea of emotions as social constructs is derived from Lisa Feldman Barrett’s article Are Emotions Natural Kinds? (2006) in which she states that emotions are often seen as things that happen to us while, according to her, they are actually constructed by us through various processes in the brain that have to do with predictions, concepts, and social reality. Social reality provides the collective agreement and language that make the perception of emotion possible among people who share a culture.

As for predictions, Barrett uses the following example to explain the conceptual act model: “if someone’s brain predicts the presence of a snake as well as the unpleasant affect that would result upon encountering a snake, that brain might categorise and construct an experience of “fear.” This process takes place before any actual sensory input of a snake reaches conscious awareness. In contrast, a “basic emotions” researcher would say that the person first sees the snake, and this sensory input triggers a dedicated “fear circuit” in the brain.”

questions of the survey. Looking at some of the questions of this questionnaire —when do you feel unsafe here?, why do you feel unsafe here?, and what is the intensity of your fear? (see Figure 6.4)— we can observe that the feelings of ‘fear’ and ‘unsafety’ are used interchangeably, and that the emotions are conceived as clearly defined words that this research seeks to pinpoint to geo-coordinates (see Figure 6.5), with which then, aims to relate the reactions and the intensity of these words to these same geo-coordinates and the times of the day they occurred on those locations.

Figure 6.4

Note: Overview of the features collected in each question in web app Emotional Maps. Reprinted from “Mapping citizens’ emotions: participatory planning support system in Olomouc, Czech Republic”, by J. Pánek, 2018, Journal of Maps, 15(1), p.10. (https://doi.org/10.1080/17445647.2018.1546624). Copyright 2018 Jiří Pánek.

Figure 6.5

Note: Overview of the features collected in each question in web app Emotional Maps. Reprinted from “Mapping citizens’ emotions: participatory planning support system in Olomouc, Czech Republic”, by J. Pánek, 2018, Journal of Maps, 15(1), p.9. (https://doi.org/10.1080/17445647.2018.1546624). Copyright 2018 Jiří Pánek.

In Nold’s case, it is stress that he is interested in, and that he seeks to measure through skin response in conjunction with geographical locations, while in Pánek’s case it is people’s reaction to fear that he is interested in, and that he seeks to pin down to geographical locations. Although the technique that is used in these examples is different, in both cases the emotion is being isolated through the geo-tag. According to Barrett’s conceptual-act model, when it comes to working with emotions, these approaches, and many other comparable approaches in research, are too narrow if we want to understand the complex world of emotions. Barrett (2006) contends that decision-making that is based on research performed in this way/ through this approach can even be erroneous and 223

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misleading.

Particularly for design research, Barrett’s theory on emotions is interesting because it deals with unpacking emotions rather than pinning them down. For design researchers this unpacking —which can also be referred to as creating a thick description— is particularly relevant. As design researchers are focused on designing tools and methods, they are able to produce new/complementary insights that other/classical research methods are less focused on or capable of producing. In Mapping Invisibility, I have sought to do precisely that. In this case study, the mapping was performed by participants from different cultures and socio-economic classes. As words were the point of departure for the mapping, it was important to take into consideration how language is structured and conveyed differently across cultures. Being aware of the importance that the word choice has for mapping as a participatory practice, I thought to unpack the words rather than pin them down. Through interrogating the word that is assigned to a certain emotion, the case deals with questions such as how an emotion is defined and interpreted across cultures or through subjective experiences, whether if it is even possible to have one word or the right word choice for all surveyors (and thus, if it is useful to place it under the same category), and if one emotion can be isolated from other feelings.

Where in Mapping Invisibility, time and dialogue were essential to unpack the emotions, in other case studies the map’s categories were unpacked through the use of photos or videos. A good example of this was the case study What Moves You. Here, the mapped emotions were not co-constructed in the walk (like with Mapping Invisibility), but rather given meaning and context through the use of pictures. It is by assigning those pictures to certain geo-coordinates that participants were able to give the emotions context and meaning. This is relevant in ethnographic research (amongst others for the field of service design) as ethnography stands for qualitative research that aims to understand people’s everyday life practices, motivations, concerns, etc. By having this input, designers are better equipped to make informed and human-centred decisions in their designs (van Dijk, 2010).

Projecting those maps and pictures on the urban fabric is another level that I introduce in this mapping practice, which involves the phase of data representation. With the projections, the meaning that was given to those places by the participating public could be discussed again with a new public. In this regard, digital mapping offers the opportunity to work with different kinds of publics and different levels of engagement.

Where it concerns co-creating for data representation, I look at how a collectively created map is given back to people in a meaningful way, which is important for the participatory action research approach that I use. What is relevant is that the map is never simply a representation of a phenomenon but has an active element of shaping it, with which representations have a feedback loop back into reality. To illustrate: the Covid-19 crisis demonstrates how maps and diagrams that are shown on a daily basis steer people’s behaviour regarding what they find acceptable, for instance, in how they help them judge about the severity of a situation to agree on wearing face-masks. If they had not been shown those maps and diagrams, they might have had different ideas about the use of those masks. How we see the world in the representations, influences what we do which again, influences the data that gets back into the map; a process that is also referred to as a double feedback loop (Jelle van Dijk, 2020, 35:40–38:00)

In my own case studies, where I give the map back to people, I am aware of the fact that I am partly influencing the data. However, an important factor for the participatory approach in my PhD is how those maps are returned. The maps that are produced in my PhD with participatory ethnography, are not produced with the idea to prove something about the reality (an approach where the map is more prone to become detached from the reality it seeks to understand), they are rather presented as a snapshot of a reality that the participants seek to engage with, thus the map attaches itself to the phenomenon it seeks to understand and, in turn, influences this phenomenon. Therefore, the way maps are given back to the public in my case studies can be regarded as a phenomenological approach of data representation.

For example, in What Moves You, the map is given back to the DDW public by projecting the collectively created map onto buildings that participated in the event, and the fact that the map is presented in real time is crucial for this approach. The real-time component enables the map to continuously include the input of new publics. Furthermore, the projected map has to be navigated by me in collaboration with the interested (new) public. I have to negotiate with this new public what parts of the map we are interested in viewing after which we discuss what we see. Thus, the map becomes a conversation piece that invites to discuss the findings, and the method with which the findings are presented. The conversations with the public, enabled by the map, are equally important to include in the data of this ethnographic research approach.

6.2.2 Inter-facing as a practice of juxtaposing Mapping as a relational practice enables to juxtapose phenomena, a practice that I propose to be particularly relevant for design research. A map that is created as a collective endeavour enables to shed light on a topic from different angles. Especially when dealing with complex issues that do not have one answer (an area design researchers are accustomed to working on), a participatory mapping approach can help gain other/ new insights. In the following example, I illustrate why especially the use of digital technologies are interesting in this context.

In Mapping Invisible Makers, participants direct their gaze on informal practices of making in the city. It is through the digital map interface that linkages could be made between formal and informal settings in which the makers operate. In this case, the digital map affords multiple participants (students in this case) to engage in this public (space) issue simultaneously through using the same map interface. Juxtaposing happens in different ways/on different levels: 1) The map that is created by the students can be compared to other maps, such as city branding maps from the municipality or market parties with which the top-down and the bottom-up notions of ‘makers’ can be juxtaposed; 2) The maker practices that the students research and upload to the collective map are juxtaposed (this is afforded by the digital map interface). For instance, a group of four students of every class does research into a maker collective (a word of the map’s legend), but each group will approach this category differently and shed light on this community from a different angle. In the digital map, these different perspectives come together with which they can be juxtaposed through use of the interface; 3) Different degrees of (in)formality in which a ‘maker community’ operates can be juxtaposed (this is afforded by the transparencies that can be assigned to the data points).

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Potentially there is a fourth way in which juxtaposing can take place, that is, by building on the same map over time. This practice would enable to juxtapose maker practices in different time-frames, demonstrating how they change over time or how they are viewed differently across time. This was not worked out in this case study, but it could be an interesting track for future research.

In Co-creating Reality, participants also use an identical map interface, but they perform the mapping while moving in different parts of the city. Their gaze is not only directed at informal uses of space through own observations, but also through incoming messages from other cartographers who are in different locations. This entails a practice of juxtaposing perspectives on an issue that is addressed (a word of the legend that is proposed to include in the map). Here also, the (informal) map that is created by the students can be compared to other (formal) maps but most importantly, own observations can be juxtaposed with other people›s observations.

In most of my case studies that were performed in this context, participants mentioned to feel confused in the process of mapping, for instance, due to the fact that a category from the legend was approached from different angles by different participants. In their experience, it made the category less clearly defined. Firstly, I argue that it is precisely this confusion, that is built in the practice, that helps participants better understand the complexity of a problem/issue. Entering into that domain of confusion is helpful because it makes the participants humble; it helps understand that there is not one answer to a problem and that there are different forms of action necessary to understand and tackle an issue. Secondly, a multi-vocal and multi-focal mapping approach enables to challenge preconceived ideas, and engage multiple and new participants in mapping with which new/other kinds of problems within an issue can be voiced and addressed.

To illustrate; mapping communities such as OSM99 or GIS are still overwhelmingly performed by male cartographers, meaning that women’s needs, interests, and experiences are often not (enough) reflected in those maps. As an ethnographic research approach, it is not only valuable to have input from diverse actors, such as women, to enrich own understandings of an issue, but it can also contribute to decision-making that is able to address those issues and empower those actors, such as proposing changes in local policies, plans, and budgets (Moloney, 2020).

Digital mapping is especially relevant when it comes to mapping as a relational practice due to the fact that it enables to include more divergent or even conflicting points of view in the practice. Performing these types of maps can, therefore, be experienced as complex and confusing. However, it is precisely in this stage of confusion where different perspectives can be juxtaposed.

6.2.3 Performing as a practice of enacting in mobility Enactivism focuses on sense-making as an embodied and situated practice (Verheggen & Baerveldt, 2012). In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to research, I look at how knowledge is enacted, that is, how knowledge is performed in a way that involves embodied interactions with the map and its attributes. Here, I specifically look 99 There are no reliable figures on the number of women contributors on OSM, as users sign up to the free open-source platform anonymously and do not need to give their gender, name or age. Research published in GeoJournal last year estimated women account for 13% of all OSM contributors (Moloney, 2020)

at embodied walking with digital technologies.

Martin Dodge, Rob Kitchin, and Chris Perkins (2009) present approaches to do mapping, providing an insightful commentary on new ontological and epistemological thinking with respect to cartography. Their discourse —originating from social sciences and situated in human geography— is a quest to relegate map-making from an introspective intellectual practice to one that is more performative and dialogical. Their view is interesting for the design field considering the design field’s aesthetic dimension, and its ability to construct forms of (non-discursive) mediation that can help balance power relations (e.g., in voicing less dominant actors). It also assumes a more activist approach of the design researcher to understand mapping practices as politically significant. In this line of thought, Perkins (2009) is interested in the cultural uses of mapping, where the making as well as the reading of the map can mean different things. Perkins’ idea resonates with Judith Butler’s notion of performativity (2006), in which, she contends, one’s gender is not predefined but a continuous process that comes into being through actions and interactions. In this PhD research, I also prescribe a performative approach to map-making and map reading. In this approach, knowledge is continuously made and transferred through (inter)actions100 between map-makers, and between map-maker(s) and map reader(s).

The performative approach that I present is aided by walking in urban context. Here, I am inspired by Situationist International ideology of walking as a means to (re)appropriate and (re)experience the city. The Situationist International developed walking techniques to follow one’s instinct and sensorial input (sometimes aided by mind-expanding herbs) as a means to (re)connect with the city and as a political act, that is, critiquing the commodification of the city starting in the 1950’s. While I seek to scrutinise the abstracted and decontextualised representations of space that I encounter in many traditional maps, I problematise these notions through embodied interaction with the map by walking the territory on and in the map.

Furthermore, the case studies described in this dissertation build on the premise that walking in urban context is a means to knowledge acquisition. Although walking has been described extensively in literature as a link between the perceived self and perceptible culture and environment (Wylie, 2005), today’s walking is very different to that of the Situationists International or other critical cartographers of the past. Walking today, by default takes place with a mobile phone in one’s hand, is steered by digital technologies (hardware), and is mediated by apps (software) installed on those technologies.

The consequences of this development were problematised in the introduction of this book. The question that is relevant to ask for my PhD research and from a performative 100 To further explain what I mean with ‘actions’, I borrow the term ‘tactics’ from Michel de Certeau (1984). De Certeau distinguishes between tactics and strategies. He links strategies to institutions and structures of power who are the “producers” (like the traditional map), while tactics, according to De Certeau are the actions of individuals who are moving in environments that are defined by strategies. De Certeau characterises tactics as the scope of influence of the non-powerful. He understands tactics not as a subset of a strategy, but as an adaptation to the environment which was created strategically by the powerful.

In contrast to strategies, tactics do not capitalise on space and do not subordinate time to space. Thus, tactics do not yield to an abstract model for space, for movement, for practice, for social behaviour, etc. Tactics are time-dependent and therefore relevant when talking of performativity. After all, performativity can only be pragmatically possible when we see things in their becoming (in mapping), rather than in a framed snapshot (in maps). In the previous chapters, the term ‘tactics’ was therefore frequently used, rather than ‘actions’. It was mentioned in various occasions throughout the dissertation as a performative means to knowledge transfer between the map and the user.

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perspective is how walking practices that are mediated by the digital map interface can become productive as a way of doing critical cartography. Through analysing the attributes of the self-designed map apps (frame, legend, time, and navigation), I have looked at the affordances of mobile mapping, that is, walking combined with the digital map interface.

Looking at Mapping Invisibility, for example, I focus on the embodied interaction with the map, making an attempt to move away from contemplative modes of thought and action to those based in practice. In this case, I am interested in how an encounter or confrontation with the proverbial ‘other’ can take place. I conceptualise ‘the other’ as other peoples’ perspectives on public (space) issues, other ways of viewing the world, or ways of perceiving it. The eventual aim is to become aware of one’s own (often ingrained) perspectives on public (space) issues and to be incentivised to listen to or engage with new perspectives. Questions of ‘where one has been, where one is now, and where one is going next’ —questions that are inherent to digital maps— become linked to questions regarding the presence of preconceived ideas and how new knowledge can be attained Looking at Figure 6.1 depicting the three time-frames of the Mapping Invisibility tool, we can say that in the third time-frame (in the reading of the map) the host (story teller) and the guest (story listener) engage in knowledge transfer in an embodied way. The guest in this time-frame experiences public space through the mediation of the map. It is important for the perceiver to be properly tuned in and only then will (s)he be able to hear the undocumented story. This experience is more than just an interaction with the app. Looking at the actions that the user in the third time-frame has to take and what makes these actions different than simply playing the mp3 from behind a desktop, I contend that the difference lies in the intensity of the experience and the way the story is conveyed. The actor, who plays the story as an mp3 from behind a desktop, is to be defined primarily in terms of what (s)he does to/with the interface, while the user in the third time-frame, as presented in Figure 6.1, is to be defined as a perceiver/experiencer.

Everything (s)he does to/with the interface matters in so far as (s)he is well tuned in. This does not suggest to overlook the role of technology in this experience —were it not for the mobile phone, the code, and the online infrastructures, this experience would have remained unattainable— but it emphasises the importance of the actions of the user in how the story is perceived and how knowledge is co-constructed between story-teller and listener. Thus, the story is enacted and performed by the listener with which (s)he is able to relate to this story, not in a merely cognitive but in an embodied way.

Estelle Barrett and Barbara Bolt (2013) examine the notion of ‘performativity’ as a new materialist practice and as a critique on science. They state that social science and humanities research is shifting from distant modes of production of ‘truths’ or knowledge about the world towards a mode of discovery and learning that is more ethnographic, personal, and in line with art and design research. This mode of knowledge production is less reliant on hierarchy and acknowledges that the production of knowledge is potentially a transformative act; that is to say, that the production of knowledge is experiential and performative. Barrett & Bolt suggest that in such an approach, distanced observation is replaced with aesthetic awareness and that knowledge occurs as a material process through interaction and action. In this line of thought, I conceptualise performativity in my PhD as an affordance to produce and transfer knowledge

in a processual manner through actions and through embodied interaction. Knowledge here is understood as experience that is actively and continuously (re)constructed through (inter)actions with the map, the surrounding, and with others.

6.3 Contribution of Digital Performative Mapping to situated and collective approaches to learning In serving education, the PhD’s focus is on digital mapping as a practice of learning, and more specifically embodied and situated approaches to learning. The case studies that are presented in chapter 5 predominantly focus on the educational context. Next, I look at practices (co-creating, playing, inter-facing, and performing) that are afforded by Digital Performative Mapping in the way in which they promote: 1. Situated learning. Here, I look at co-creating as a practice of Digital Performative Mapping for location-based learning.

2. Critical thinking. Here, I look at how playing as practice of Digital Performative Mapping affords to critically examine cartography as a cartesian project. I propose ways to subvert the (ingrained) cartesian logic so as to demonstrate or even change categories of thought with which playful mapping becomes a practice for critical thinking.

3. De-familiarising. Here, I look at inter-facing as a practice of Digital Performative Mapping that enables the user —through his/her actions— to discompose/ disarrange a situation so as to (unsettle and) eventually come to a closer understanding of it.

4. Embodied learning. Here, I look at performing as a practice of Digital Performative Mapping to incarnation and actualisation as a form of learning. This approach analyses the link between bodily actions (within digital mapping) and knowledge acquisition.

6.3.1 Co-creating as a practice of situated learning In the area of participatory design, the terms co-design and co-creation are

often used interchangeable. Elizabeth Sanders & Pieter Jan Stappers (2008) distinguish between co-creation and co-design by framing co-creation as the umbrella under which co-design can be placed. They state that the act of co-creating is one of collective creativity shared by two or more people while co-design is applied across the whole span of a design process in which people who are not trained as designers work together with designers in the design development process. In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to education, I am especially interested in co-creating as

collective creativity shared by two or more people as a means to situated learning.

In line with the ideas expressed by ’situated cognition’ scholars who state that in order to know, one has to relate (Ackerman, 1996), I seek to create conditions with which mapping is performed as a relational practice in the context of public space, thus encouraging situated learning. There is a growing domain in educational methods

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in various fields that seek to incorporate situated learning.101 While children possess a natural ability to learn in a situated way (Schaper, 2018), it is often when they start formal education that they lose this ability or that they lean towards cognition only.

Increasingly more research demonstrates the problems that are associated with this disconnect (Eddy & Moradian, 2020).102 In the case studies where I examine situated learning, I elaborate on the value of this kind of learning within educational context when it is done collectively.

In this section, I point to the added value of working with digital technologies. One of those is the ability to construct meaning through the use of different channels and media types. In Co-creating Reality, for example, meaning was given to the words of the legend through a real-time digital exchange about what the ‘cartographers on tour’ encountered in the field. This way, their views were continuously revised by other participants observations. Mapping in this context is not about finding proof for the map’s categories through data-collection, but rather about negotiating and scrutinising those very categories in the phase of data-collection. The type of communication channel that was made available to the cartographers turned out to be important for the way in which meaning could be conveyed. For instance, in Co-creating Reality, the discussion was not as abundant as in the Near Games due to the fact that in the former, practical limitations were encountered in the use of this chosen communication. We could also see that in enabling the ‘cartographers on tour’ to use different types of media —such as photos or videos in Between Realities, What Moves You and the Near Games— provided the subject of research with much more context and enabled the participants to contribute in the mapping in diverse/new ways. This is particularly relevant when working with trans-and multidisciplinary teams where participants focus, needs, interests, and skills are often different. For instance, designers might be more accustomed to using images or videos in communicating interpretations and associations with the mapped categories. Relevant for the educational purpose is that the different media types become equally important in conveying a message, and they can complement each other. This, in turn, can contribute to new/diverse insights.

Another added value of applying digital technologies for collective situated learning is the ability to make use of the scenography of public space. In both Mapping Invisibility and Performative Mapping Game, what enriches the experience of map reading is the fact that the listener finds him/herself in public space. The scenography of public space plays a pivotal role in the content that is being transmitted as it relates to this space (thus, the story becomes situated). At the same time, the story listener in Performative Mapping Game will never experience the story the same way twice because of the constantly changing scenography. These various factors make the experience interesting from the listeners point of view and incentivises to stay engaged, curious, and tuned in.

What makes the above mentioned digital mapping technologies particularly relevant for educational context is how the map user engages in this practice. I not only look at the learning experience of the map user, but also how (s)he is ‘designing’ the interaction by anticipating on how his/her proposed action will be performed. In Walk Away, the users

101 The Reggio Emilia approach is an example of this.

102 Martha Eddy & Ann Moradian (2020) discuss the problems that are associated with the mind-body disconnect in educational setting. However, there are many more scholars who discuss the problems with this disconnect.

are able to adapt the map with which they anticipate on the experience of future users of the map and their experience of the city. Where in Walk Away this is done in different time-frames, in Near Games the players continuously anticipate each other’s moves in game play and adapt the collective map accordingly. Mapping thus, not only comprises tuning-in and adapting to other players movements, but also pro-actively engaging in strategies to anticipate on how others (will) interact with the map. It engages the map users in the design of the interface, and makes them participate in how the map interface as a digital spatial medium is actively shaping and mediating knowledge.

6.3.2 Playing as a practice of critical thinking Lammes (2015) contends that the participatory turn in map creation and map use is based on the premise that, due to the digitisation of maps, users can have a continuous influence on maps as they have become personalised and are being transformed while navigating with and through them. Thus, map apps can be approached as artefacts to be experienced and played with. Consequently, their design does not only/necessarily depend on cartographers but (increasingly more) on interaction designers. As this PhD is situated in critical cartography, I contend that although map apps might invite to play with them, there is an important distinction that should be made between play that contributes to critical thinking and other (jolly) game play practices that do not make such contribution.

Looking at examples where map apps are used in public spaces, I have found many games that involve the use of a digital map interface —such as Figurerunning (2011), Geocaching (2013) or Chromaroma (De Boer, 2011)— and a few examples of locative media games that make use of a map interface (such as Pokémon Go). The playful approach of those apps might be interesting from the perspective of accessibility and easy-to-use tools (with which these apps respond to UX and UI design challenges), but do not engage players in critical thinking. Here, it is interesting to consider the underlying mechanisms of those apps, such as how the map app is made, by whom, and for what purpose. I could clearly distinguish between games that contribute in seeking to democratise public spaces (such is the case with Mapping Invisibility), and games that seek to capitalises/privatise on public spaces (such as the case with Pokémon Go).

Taking into consideration that most map apps are developed by market parties, we can understand the lack of focus on criticality. However, the fact that map apps are barely used or developed by educational institutions, also indicates that the value of map apps as educational tools is not enough acknowledged. As I see great potentials for map app use in educational context (amongst others as a means to engage critically with spatial theories), I have created those apps myself and I have tested them with students at various universities over the course of four years.

What is important to point out is that with the games in chapter 5, I predominantly seek to make a contribution to education and not so much serving a societal purpose.

Mary Flanagan (2010) —artist, academic, and writer specialising in digital art and game design— states that game designers lack an understanding of the political dimension of location based mobile games. This becomes even more prominent if we consider the conception and use of public spaces of disadvantaged communities.

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In major cities through the world, the homeless, prostitutes, and domestic workers possess the streets in a way that speaks to economic and social disempowerment.

Their ‘drift’ is not one of exploration or privilege, but a search for place to sleep or for labour. In the digital age, with economic, intellectual, and cultural divides both effective and prevalent, some artists and theorists may have grave doubts about following in the footsteps of creators of an urban game or locative media event whose premise of “interventionist” work actually manifests as an entertainment spectacle for an advantaged audience. While individual freedom and rights can construct subjectivity from looking and experience, some participants still emerge more empowered than others. Few location-based art projects are nuanced enough to address these kinds of issues.

Flanagan, p. 206

The common critique on the Situationist International of representing a white, male, educated, and privileged middle class figure who has the time and means to explore his city —“the majority of nineteenth-century workers made their way on foot over long roads” (ibid, p. 196)— could also be asked for participants who play the city in locative media games, which according to Flanagan (2010) are often more privileged communities. The question then is for whom it is relevant to participate. Different to the case studies in chapter 3 and 4 (all situated in public space and addressing public (space) issues), the case studies in chapter 5 do no focus on this political question. Although the games all take place in public space and make use of GPS technology —with which they are inherently political— the focus is not on the political dimension, but rather on the examination of the map apps as educational tools to have students engage in critical thinking.

In purposing play as a means to promote critical thinking, I look at how a certain logic or stereotypical norm can be subverted in mapping. Here, I am also inspired by The Situationist International encounters with the city, that encouraged urbanites in the 1950s and 1960s to take part in playful acts of, amongst others, mapping that sought to subvert the controlled modernist idea for the city (Perkins, 2009). However, “it is

not enough to present a simple subversion of a stereotypical norm rather, it is only through changing the logic of traditional relationships and categories —in Butler’s specific case, categories such as gender— that larger systematic changes can be effected.” (Butler in Flanagan, pp. 221-222). Inspired by, amongst others, the philosophy of Butler, I have sought to do precisely that. With Walk Away, for example, I scrutinise the cartesian logic of mapping while with Co-creating Reality and Mapping Invisibility, I have sought to interrogate the map’s legend. Here, I seek to present the questioning of the proposed categories as an embodied and grounded practice of mapping. The idea is that it enables the participants to critically interrogate mapping as a cartesian project.

I contend that the playful mapping practices that are presented in this book are especially interesting within educational context. In the first place, taking playful mapping practices outside and situating those practices in public space makes of them a valuable learning experience. This is due to the fact that location-based mobile games (all the map apps in chapter 5 are location based mobile games) enable a continuous exchange between physical and virtual game space. In Walk Away, for example, I have demonstrated how players experience the changed perception of physical space as they progress in virtual game space (as the map becomes more erased). Where in the beginning, for most

participants, the city is projected and experienced as a conceived space it increasingly moves into a lived space as openings are created in the map. Here, it is especially relevant to observe how the exchange between physical and virtual (game) space is able to change the player’s perception of public space. In these cases, I continuously challenge categories that are imbedded in the practice of cartography, and I propose ways to subvert this logic so as to demonstrate or even change categories of thought with which mapping indeed becomes a practice of critical thinking.

In the second place, inter-action with peers is implemented in the design of the apps (especially after iterations in the Near Games) with which peer learning is encouraged during game play. For instance, moving forward in the We Are Near and We Are Nearer could only be achieved through collaboration, as navigating the map depends on actions and communication between players in the same game space.

In the third place, some of the map apps (especially Near Games) are presented as a way to enable students to contribute to their design and development with which participants can potentially tailor the method that is applied to examine their research question. Through the use of open-source software and presenting very little rules in the apps, I wanted to see if/how rules were added or adapted by the players during and after game play, and if indeed, students continued developing the games to tailor the method to their research. Here I am interested in having the participants engage in reflection-in action (Schön, 1983); reflecting on what one is doing while one is doing it.

Observations regarding how rules were changed or adapted during game play made me aware on what iterations would be relevant to make. However, when it comes to proposing changes in design or further developing the games, the university students were much more held back. I had stated repeatedly throughout the different courses that the apps were prototype tools, and that students were able to experiment with the apps and propose changes in the design and development that they considered relevant for their research questions. However, little initiative came from the students in this regard. I believe this has to do with various factors. Firstly, from within the institution (the university in this case) students took a more classic approach to research, they were not incentivised to continue building the games or proposing adjustments for it as a form of reflection and critique. Instead, the students used an auto-ethnographic research approach and their reflection eventually accumulated in a classical/ theoretical writing. Those essays were very useful for my PhD to find out how the apps were experienced by the different users, but it did not necessarily contribute to students reflection-in-action. Different to design students —who tend to take a more interventionist approach to learning— the university students took more the role of observers and reflected on the tool as if it was a finished research tool to reflect on.

In some of the essays, the university students reflected on the value of the approach for learning. They would describe how the proposed playful mapping approach enables them to engage with the theory ‘better’; they would hold the playful approach against a more classical/theoretical approach to learning and describe its added value for learning. It was stated that the continuous exchange between physical and virtual game space enabled them to engage with the theories in a more critical and autonomous way.

For example, in engaging with Lefebvre’s concepts of social space (in which he distin-

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guishes between the conceived, perceived, and lived space), virtual game space is a new layer that has contributed to new conceptions on those spatial theories. Students mentioned that through playing and moving between virtual and physical game space they were better equipped to (re)think and build on those theories.

Action research theory as developed by Chris Argyris and Donald Schön, distinguishes between three levels of learning: single-loop, double-loop, and triple-loop. Singleloop learning is an educational concept that consists in adapting to one’s surroundings through action while double-loop learning is an educational concept and process that involves a rethinking of own assumptions and beliefs. Triple-loop learning, on the other hand, emphasises the possibility of ‘learning about learning’ (Barbat et al., 2011).

Through playing in both physical and virtual games space, the students did not only take in the theories, but they could place them, probe them, and (re)evaluate them in action. In manoeuvring between the physical and the virtual, existing conventions of public space are able to change during game play. Furthermore, engaging with theories through playing has proven to make a valuable contribution to the way in which the students were able to (re)examine those theories, an approach that is still rather novel for the academic community. We can thus state that engaging in playful action in the games of chapter 5 (especially the Near Games) contributed to triple-loop learning.

6.3.3 Inter-facing as a practice of de-familiarising In the case studies where I seek to make a contribution to education, I am inspired by Jaques Ranciére’s (2011) idea of ‘the emancipated spectator’. With this idea, he proposes that all actors are on equal ground and that knowledge emerges through actions/interactions. In my map apps that are used in educational context, this has consequences for how knowledge is exchanged among students and between teachers and students (comprising a more horizontal transfer of knowledge exchange). In order to create this kind of knowledge exchange, the spectator has to be activated in Ranciére’s view with the idea to have him/her understand a phenomenon not only on a cognitive level, but also through bodily movement and through situating the body in the environment where the issue is linked to.

In the relation that I seek for with my research participants (where I aim to make a contribution to education), I find it useful to look at how theatre practitioner Bertolt Brecht seeks to activate his public through estrangement, a technique that he specifically developed for this purpose. Bertolt Brecht was a German theatre practitioner who lived in the Weimar Republic, before fleeing Nazi Germany. In one of his early works —A Respectable Wedding (1919)— Brecht sought to ridicule the apparent perfection, false morality, sentimentality, and commonness of the bourgeoisie at a time that in the Weimar Republic there was not much more than Opera and Operetta. The spectator did not have to do anything other than listen, take it in, and occasionally become emotional. Emotions were seen as logical consequences of the performances of the singers/players, comparable to an average musical entertainment of today where the spectator is served after having paid a lot of money. Stepping foot out of the theatre everything was forgotten again. Brecht had little interest in this form of entertainment, but was rather more interested in making the spectator think. Therefore, he introduced a technique with which he did not let the spectator identify with the player. Brecht would create the play this way that the spectator would feel as if (s)he is left out. As it is in the

nature of the spectator to want to be affected, someone who is left out will do his/her best to connect, to try and understand, to catch some of the words/lines in order to make something out of it that (s)he can understand. For this to happen, the spectator has to experience that (s)he is not being served. This often resulted in frustration or anger (in some of Brecht’s plays the audience would throw things at the actors, protest, or leave the theatre altogether).

According to Brecht, emotions had to be encountered in the situation itself. For this, the actor in his/her script, should not convey emotions (through interpretation/intonation/ feeling) from the outside, but rather pronounce the text as purely and precisely as possible.103 The ‘spoiled’ public does not recognise an emotion if it doesn’t know it (a spectator likes to see something (s)he knows him/herself). For Brecht, the spectator should not be sitting back in his/her chair but has to lean forward; (s)he has to make an effort; (s)he has to take action. To stay as far away as possible from the viewer, Brecht introduced a technique that he called Verfremdung (also referred to as distancing effect or estrangement).104 He had actors write their texts on message boards or carry words on their costumes, he would make actors stand with their backs to the audience, whisper, elaborate on situations that the audience could not easily follow, cut and distribute a monologue in three parts through the piece, but also the costumes and light were used as deterrent.105 Brecht —who was very critical about the commodification of art— has gained renewed interest in the digital age where a number of scholars examine digital technology’s function in the commodification of art (Zazzali, 2013).

I find Brecht’s technique inspiring for the case studies where I also strive for an activation of the user/research participant. The context where I use it is very different though, not in theatre and through drama, but in public space and through digital performative mapping. In my case, the stage (with its attributes) is not the inter-face, but it is the map (with its attributes). Also, where Brecht seeks a more active preposition of the spectators to engage with the play or with the actors, in my doctoral research I seek an activation of the participants or players to engage with an issue that is addressed in the mapping practice. While Brecht talks of spectators, I refer to participants (in the case studies of chapter 3 and 4) and players (in the case studies of chapter 5). Where Brecht talks about work that has to be done by the spectator, I refer to (inter)actions that have to be taken by the participants.106 The way in which I seek for an activation of the user in the case studies that serve education is by incorporating uncertainty or confusion in the map apps. I refer to this

103 This is derived from an email-exchange with Alexandra van Marken (2020). Van Marken is a Dutch singer, actress and theatre practitioner who has worked with Brecht’s idea of estrangement in her theatre productions.

104 Brecht’s idea or Verfremdung originated in the Russian formalists’ concept of “De-familiarisation”, proposed by Viktor Shklovsky (1990) in his 1917 essay “Art as Technique”, which was later translated and interpreted by, amongst others, Alexandra Berlina (2015) as “Art, as Device”. Shklovsky refers to the literary device whereby language is used in such a way that ordinary and familiar objects are made to look different. Thus, literary language is ordinary language deformed and made strange. This technique was deployed in drama by Brecht (in his Epic Theatre) as the “alienation effect” to disrupt the passive complacency of the audience and force them into a critical analysis of art as well as the world.

105 Brecht’s works originated from a dislike for the elite/bourgeoisie and his wish for the working class to have more power.

106 Participants, in my doctoral research, are people who take part in the self-designed map apps while players are people who engage in (locative media) games that I designed for this purpose. This distinction is important for my own reflection on the apps because it assumes a different attitude of the research participant and it involves a different reading of the practice of performing.

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as defamiliarising; I seek to defamiliarise players or participants with a situation as a means to have them change their view on a certain topic, to eventually come to a closer understanding of it or to gain new insights. Here, the confrontation is between one’s conventions/existing ideas (for instance, derived from a theory that is read or existing conventions regarding a public (space) issue) and new perspectives on those theories or ideas that are brought into being through the proposed practice.

In Walk Away, for example, I have demonstrated how through walking and erasing the map, the idea of a map as conceived space, could gradually change in the experience of the participants. Differently, in Mapping Invisibility, I have demonstrated how one’s actions and direction of walking while using the map app can potentially change one’s perspective on a public issue (in this case, of the presence of undocumented migrants).

In both cases, I have demonstrated how participants were defamiliarised with old/ ingrained ideas or perspectives that momentarily unbalanced or even unsettled them.

In Performative Mapping Game, the interaction between map-maker (task creator) and map reader (task performer) became especially interesting in occasions where the performer became confused so as to where the task was produced, and if it included the private or parochial sphere of the city (defamiliarising); for instance, when commercial sites were appropriated to include them in the spatial stories of the players. The game space and the meaning that certain places hold were, this way, constantly negotiated between task maker and task performer. This is precisely what I was aiming for with the map interface, to imagine through interactions what other uses or meanings places can hold.

When it comes to representations that are made collectively, I found it interesting to note that some map apps gave people an uncomfortable feeling due to the fact that the app did not clearly indicate their contribution in the representation. For example, this was the case in Walk Away. Van Dijk (Jelle van Dijk, 2020, 39:10–41:27) points out that representations are always part of a social practice which is also about people and their interrelations (‘micropolitics’). In some of my case studies, the apps would not allow for old patterns of interrelations to emerge which curiously was experienced as uncomfortable by some and liberating by others. The value of changing those patterns of interrelations is that it enables to give each individual equal ground for participation rather than dealing with micropolitics, something that often tends to occur in group sessions and that can, therefore, be of special value in educational context.

In this PhD, inter-facing means different things and contributes in different ways to knowledge exchange and knowledge transfer depending on the domain the case study seeks to make a contribution to. In Mapping Invisibility, for example, inter-facing entails both actions that have to do with exchanging and aligning perspectives (pre-workshop and post-workshop) while inter-facing is also a practice of juxtaposing the visible and the invisible. In chapter 4, inter-facing consists of juxtaposing perspectives on city related issues (of the formal and informal, down and bottom-up, etc.). Inter-facing in the games of chapter 5, in turn, entails actions that have to do with defamiliarising to eventually come to a closer understanding of an issue. What these practices all have in common is that they seek to change one’s perspective through an activation of the user, and the activation is a pre-requisite to gain new insights.

6.3.4 Performing as a practice of embodied learning As explained in chapter 2, this PhD departs from the premise that cognition is fundamentally embodied in nature and therefore it uses a phenomenological approach to learning. An embodied approach to learning is also referred to as ‘thinking through making’, however; I prefer to use the term ‘thinking through doing’.107 The phenomenological approach looks at how people, as part of their ongoing interactions with their surroundings, constantly seek to ‘make sense’ of the world they inhabit (De Jaegher & Di Paolo, 2007). This, however, does not necessarily imply they are conscious and deliberate about it. Becoming more conscious about how embodied action is indeed a practice of sense-making, and making this practice explicit together with participants is precisely what I aim for in the case studies that seek to make a contribution to education.

Cognitive scientists who follow the phenomenology perspective, look at the relation between action and sense-making, but mostly from a theoretical angle. In academia, the focus has mostly been on theorising on how sense-making in cartography has become more interactive due to digital attributes that the map can be performed with. However, there are rarely proposals made for (novel) forms of interacting and moving with maps while reflecting on the opportunities this generates for learning. Looking at the fields of art and design, differently, there are many examples of performative mapping practices, but in these fields there is often no(t enough) reflection on what this approach can contribute to knowledge acquisition and knowledge transfer. The fact that there are very few examples of map app uses in universities and design schools demonstrates that its value for learning is not enough underscored for this context. This is precisely what I sought to do with the map apps that are presented in chapter 5.

In studying the relation between actions and embodied learning, I look at embodied interaction with the map. Embodied Interaction108 is a subfield of interaction design and is concerned with how technology enables body movement and physical actions in space to acquire meaning. Embodied interaction challenged a number of traditional notions about cartography with which a critical inquiry regarding the nature and use of conventional map attributes has become all the more urgent. Differently to the pre-digital era, cartography as a field now includes various disciplines, amongst others, that of interaction design (where the word ‘embodied interaction’ is borrowed from). However, the language used in cartography has not been updated (enough) to these developments; we still often talk of cartography and reading maps while we should actually speak of mapping and interacting, playing, performing, etc., with maps. In this PhD, I have conceptualised map attributes anew and introduce affordances of Digital Performative Mapping to contribute in a change in the language used to describe cartography.

Performing is one of those affordances. In chapter 5, I examine how performing can be conceptualised as a way to interact with the map and with others via the map with a focus on embodied mobile methods. To do this, I will first explain how in this PhD, I differentiate between embodied and disembodied mobile methods.

107 Thinking through making is a term that is typically used in design and by designers, but I think it should be broadened. By adapting the word ‘doing‘ I indicate that you don’t have to be a ‘maker’ to use this approach. This way, I want to avoid creating a false dichotomy between thinkers (so-called academics) and makers ( supposedly the designers), and emphasise that this PhD is not only directed at makers (as in designers), but that it is also directed at the academic community.

108 Other names for embodied interaction are also Full body Interaction or Whole body interaction.

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In this doctoral research, I look at Andrea Philips’ (2005) notion of walking as a mobile method. Philips distinguishes between embodied and disembodied walking, arguing that embodied walking can be characterised as walking in order to experience an external place while disembodied walking can be characterised as undertaking internal contemplation. Mapping Invisibility comprised a combination of embodied and disembodied walking in the second time-frame (see Figure 6.1). Although the places that were chosen to go to were guided by emotions, and the cartographer-duos were incentivised to take pictures of the triggers of those emotions, the dialogue between guide and guest tended to take the overhand which in the second time-frame (see Figure 6.1) often resulted in internal contemplation rather than an experience of the place. In the third time-frame, however, the walk became more embodied. This was due to the fact that the listener had to follow a track in which the experience of the external place was mingled with the undocumented migrant’s story and way of moving. Differently, in Mapping Invisible Makers, the walk as a mobile method was only purposed at the beginning of the mapping. Here, the aim was to be perceptive of the environment and allow to experience it by using the body as a sensor. This comprises a more embodied way of walking.

In this case study, mobile methods were not used further on in the mapping with which this case differs from the other case studies in this dissertation.

In the case studies Walk Away and Near Games of chapter 5, mobile methods mostly comprise embodied walking. In most of my map app designs in this chapter, the cartographer as user who interacts with the map and his/her environment is on an equal footing as the cartographer (in this case me as designer of the app), as (s)he can steer the map in new directions with his/her actions. For example, in Walk Away the cartographer as user of the map can steer the map design with his/her movements and thus influence the map and the city that other/new users (will) interact with. Thus, as designer of this app, I create conditions for others to co-define how the map is interacted with.

Important is that I make the users complicit in this practice in an embodied way. After all, it is with their bodies in combination with the map (interface) that the users can decide what the map represents. We can say that intentionality lies in the way the map is presented to them when starting the mapping, and coupling happens in the action/walk when they consciously choose to erase certain parts and leave other parts on the map.

Where in Walk Away meaning arises through coordinating intentionality (the map representation at the time of starting the mapping) and coupling (the adjustments that are proposed to the map through embodied walking), Near Games (and specifically We Are Near and We Are Nearer) focus on the way in which meaning can be assigned to public spaces by creating spatial stories. Here, students are incentivised to critically engage with spatial theories. As progressing in the virtual game space depends on collective forms of navigation, the map becomes a digital spatial medium through which users seek to make sense of their surroundings or give it new meanings, a practice that involves creating spatial stories. Although the students had learned about spatial theories from reading literature about it, experiencing those and creating spatial stories yourself is a completely different way of engaging with the theory. The most important difference lies in the way in which public space and own experiences are incorporated in the phase of coupling.

In Performative Mapping Game, I go a step further in the phase of coupling. This case not only focuses on having users experience spatial stories, but also having other players/

users act on those. As designer of the map app, I create conditions for users to define site specific tasks and perform site specific tasks. We can say that intentionality lies in the way the map is presented to the user when starting the mapping, and coupling happens in two different ways: the way in which the user creates a site specific task and in the way in which the user performs a site specific task. In creating tasks, the user becomes (to a certain extend) a designer of the experience as (s)he has to formulate a task to perform as a means to engage with a specific site. The task creator has to think of a place where (s)he wants to have a task performed and link it to an action (to convey the story) that another user has to perform there. In this case, coupling happens between the place, the map, the task maker (the map-maker), and the task performer (the map user). However, the task performer engages with the site in a different way; through an action that is proposed there. In this case, coupling happens between the place and the task performer (the map user). What characterises Performative Mapping Game is that the one who is involved in creating tasks engages with public space more consciously with which places can be given new or subjective meanings, but the engagement with the place gets actualised in the way in which the tasks are performed. The spatial story of a place, this way, becomes an interaction between place, map, task maker, and task performer. The embodied way of engaging with sites in this case study enables participants to continuously link action to meaning both in designing a task as well as in performing it.

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7. CONCLUSION In the previous chapter, I have answered the research questions while proposing directions for use of map apps with which this doctorate seeks to make a contribution to three domains: society, research, and education. Where the PhD serves the societal domain, the map app design was focused on creating conditions for people to engage in the public domain. Where the PhD serves the research community, the map apps design was focused on performing ethnographic (design) research. Lastly, where the PhD serves education, the map apps design was focused on the way in which (inter) actions with the map as digital spatial medium afford embodied, situated, and collective learning. In this concluding chapter, I give a short summary, discuss the limitations of this PhD, and propose directions for future research.

7.1 Positioning This PhD research is situated in the field of critical cartography. In the dissertation, I have looked at the potentials of Digital Performative Mapping as a participatory approach for public space research and research in the context of the public domain. Using a case study methodology and a pre-theoretical framework —where I use theories from the humanities and Human-Computer Interaction (HCI)— I present ten self-designed map apps. The apps are prototype tools with which I seek to answer my research questions.

The apps have been used in various (research) settings and with different (research) participants, with which I explore the research questions and reflect on them. Therefore, the apps have to be contextualised to understand their value. In chapter 3, 4, and 5 of this book, the eight case studies are discussed. For each case study there are two sections. The actants involved in each case study have been described for contextualisation in a descriptive section. An analytical framework —consisting of attributes and affordances— was used to examine the potentials of Digital Performative Mapping for the aforementioned domains in the analytical section. Lastly, in chapter 6, relations between the case studies are drawn by reflecting on how the map apps and digital mapping praxis can contribute to knowledge acquisitions and knowledge transfer; the interpretive section of the book.

Besides the three levels of reflection (descriptive, analytical, and interpretive), in order to aid my reflection on the complex case studies that are presented in this book, I work with categorisations involving areas/domains, attributes, and affordances. Although I have classified each case study according to the area/domain it serves, elements of a case study may also be interesting for other areas than that it is categorised under.

Therefore, the domains should not be regarded as strictly delimited categories, but as areas where a case study may be specifically relevant.

When it comes to the attributes, I departed from a classical categorisation of attributes within cartography consisting of ‘frame, legend, scale, and orientation’. In my analysis, I use map attributes as analytical lenses, and I look at the added value of the digital mapping interface with which new emerging and overlapping features are presented within these attributes. Hence, I changed the classical attributes to ‘frame, legend, time, and navigation’, so to include also digital technologies in the attributes categorisation.

This enables me to point out where the (added) value of digital mapping lies as opposed to traditional (analogue) map-making. When it comes to the affordances, I build on the concept of affordance as presented by Gibson, Norman, and Gaver. I focus on four affordances of map apps for knowledge acquisitions and knowledge transfer. Those affordances are ‘co-creating, inter-facing, playing, and performing’.

7.2 Contribution to the societal domain Where the doctoral research seeks to make a contribution to the societal domain, I examine how mapping applications can empower disadvantaged communities.

Furthermore, I explore how map apps can help increase participation in/for public space and how new publics can be incentivised to participate in the public domain.

Particularly relevant to this field has been the consideration of mapping applications in how they enable co-creation, inter-facing, and performing. Co-creating in this context is conceptualised as an affordance of the map app and as a practice that involves participatory sense-making. While I seek to voice or empower disadvantaged communities, I look at how meaning can be constructed collectively (around this public issue).

Inter-facing, in this context, is conceptualised as an affordance of the map app and as a practice to align with other people’s views and lived experiences. In my analysis I have demonstrated how certain map attributes such as co-creating the legend, navigation as a way of aligning with ‘the other’, and taking time to encounter the proverbial other, have all contributed to making Digital Performative Mapping an interesting approach for the societal domain. Lastly, performing is conceptualised as a practice of making an issue public and thus including new publics.

Figure 7.1 is a schematic overview and summary of the affordances and attributes (sometimes linked, sometimes not) that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the societal domain. Moreover, it demonstrates the practices that the map apps in this context entail.

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Figure 7.1 Diagram of the affordances, attributes, and practices that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the societal domain. Produced by author.

7.3 Contribution to research Where the doctoral research seeks to make a contribution to the field of research, I look at mapping applications as a prerequisite for research participants to map a public (space) issue collectively and in real time. This practice consists of allowing multiple participants to engage simultaneously in the practice of meaning-making. Particularly relevant for this field has been the consideration of mapping applications in how they enable co-creation, inter-facing, and performing. Co-creating in this context is conceptualised as an affordance of the map app and as a practice that involves collective data-aggregation in participatory ethnographic research. Inter-facing, in this context, is conceptualised as an affordance of the map app and as a practice to juxtapose perspectives on city related issues, such as juxtaposing formal and informal perspectives on a public issue. Lastly, performing in this context is conceptualised as an affordance of the map app and as a practice to enact knowledge while in mobility. Emphasis is placed on how mapping in motion (while walking) allows participants to interact with knowledge (embedded in the map) in a more incarnated/embodied way than other approaches of mapping would enable.

In my analysis I have demonstrated how certain map attributes in Digital Performative

Mapping are particularly interesting for the domain of research. For example, in co-creating the map’s legend (in Co-Creating Reality, for instance), I look at the value of mobile methods and digital technologies for peer-learning, that is, learning from other cartographers readings of public space and its traces. In this regard, co-creating the legend in mobility is conceptualised as a relational practice (rather than viewing the map as a relational representation). Here, I am inspired by ideas that are expressed by ‘situated cognition’ scholars who state that in order to know, one has to relate (Ackerman, 1996).

In my approach of Digital Performative Mapping, I seek to create conditions with which mapping is performed as a relational practice in the context of public space, thus encouraging situated learning. In a similar vein, I have given examples of how (in What Moves You, for example), the map’s frame could be constructed collectively and in real time to allow, this way, participants to determine which locations should be covered by the issue or event that is mapped, and how this can include new publics as the event unfolds.

When it comes to the attribute time, I have demonstrated how Digital Performative Mapping enables the participating cartographers to gain new insights when deploying the attribute. As standing at a certain location for a longer period of time leaves a dot on the map and this dot becomes thicker with time passing, the place that one occupies in public space, one’s movements, and one’s pace of walking is transcribed into the map. In Between Realities, the different thicknesses of the lines could tell us something about how, through reading their movements, different collectives relate to one another in time and over time. Furthermore, when it comes to the map’s attribute navigation, following someone’s footsteps (in Between Realities and Mapping Invisibility, for example) requires from the cartographer to adjust his/her pace of walking to the person that (s)he is following. In the case of Mapping Invisibility (serving society), this is conceptualised as an embodied way of aligning with the other, while in Between Realities (serving research) it is conceptualised as enacting. This can result in seeing things that one would normally not see or walking in places that one would not normally go to, which in turn can contribute to gaining new insights that are relevant for performing ethnographic research.

Figure 7.2 is a schematic overview and summary of the affordances and attributes (sometimes linked, sometimes not) that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the domain of research. Furthermore, it demonstrates the practices that the map apps in this context entail.

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Figure 7.2 Diagram of the affordances, attributes, and practices that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the domain of research. Produced by author.

7.4 Contribution to education Where the doctoral research seeks to make a contribution to education, I look at what a playful mapping approach can contribute to this field. More specifically, I look at location-based mobile games that make use of a digital map interface as a means to collectively play with the map. Next, I look at how play can contribute to forms of critical thinking and collective learning. For instance, the map attribute navigation in the games is designed in a way that it contributes to a playful state of mind. In Walk Away, this entails navigating an erased map of the city, while in the Near Games, this entails the use of tactics to navigate the grey area of the map collectively in order to find one’s position in the map.

What makes the map apps that involve game play particularly interesting from an educational perspective is that moving forward in the games requires (inter)actions and a continuous alignment between the physical, the virtual, and the spatial, which is conceptualised as inter-facing. In these cases, I explore how inter-facing can contribute to de-familiarising from preconceived ideas or spatial theories. Movements between the physical, virtual, and spatial dimension entails temporarily taking a distance from old

conceptions through continuously experiencing changed relations/tensions between those spheres while playing the games. This practice contributes in moving cartography from a conceived space — typically the way space is represented, such as in maps— to that of a lived space. The latter being a space of frictions between the perceived space and the conceived space; a space inhabited by users who combine their subjective experiences of perceived space with those of imposed conceived space, producing a space full of conflicts between meanings and strategies (Chesher, 2012).

Furthermore, the practice enables to rethink how these spheres (conceived, perceived, and lived space) come into being through certain (inter)actions. Here, I depart from the premise that space is a social construct and that mapping actions give a space meaning and can produce, maintain, or change certain relations. Inter-facing is, therefore, an affordance of the map app to enable the participants to experience and critically examine spatial theories and re-conceptualise cartographic praxis.

Where in Walk Away and in the You Are Near this critical examination happens predominantly at individual level, in the last two iterations of Near Games I introduced mechanisms in the game that enabled players to communicate and learn from each another.

This was achieved, amongst others, by enabling the players to construct meaning through using different channels and media types, and through collectively constructing spatial stories. In chapter 5, this is conceptualised as an affordance of the map app to co-create. In order to advance in the virtual game space, players must co-create spatial stories as they make their moves in physical space. Here, I am interested in how reconciling/juxtaposing/confronting different perspectives on an issue enables to convey the different meanings that a same place can hold for different people. The type of communication channel that was made available to the cartographers was important for the way in which meaning could be conveyed collectively. For example, in the cases where images or videos could be included, more context could be added to the category that was mapped.

In Performative Mapping Game, I go a step further in having players perform each other’s spatial stories. Here, performing is conceptualised as an affordance of the map app and as an embodied way of conveying site specific knowledge. The ability to include the scenography of public space in conveying a story which included a time element (which was both done in Performative Mapping Game and in Mapping Invisibility) has demonstrated to be particularly interesting when reading the map. It requires of the listener to move through geographical locations in which (s)he experiences the story in different time-frames. The effect of the spatial dimension is that the listener is confronted with different meanings that are assigned to a same geographical location, but the listener also has to reconcile these with his/her own position in space at the moment of listening.

Figure 7.3 is a schematic overview and summary of the affordances and attributes (sometimes linked, sometimes not) that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the domain of education. Furthermore, it demonstrates the practices that the map apps in this context entail.

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Figure 7.3 Diagram of the affordances, attributes, and practices that have been examined in the case studies that make a contribution to the domain of education. Produced by author.

7.5 Critical notes, limitations, and future research 7.5.1 Design at the intersection of the physical, the technological, and the sociopolitical In the case studies looking to contribute to society, I work with disadvantaged communities. In these case studies, my PhD is more political and my role can be more activist.

There are numerous examples of participatory design projects in the context of public space where the role of the designer is intertwined with activism. However, there is also an emerging trend in which the role of designers and design researchers changes to that of a social worker. In these examples, the designer/design researcher typically remains engaged in a project for a longer period. Another development that I have encountered in this field (that often goes hand in hand with the activist role of the designer) is that design takes a doctrinal standpoint or aspires to become social activism. I am critical of these developments and propose that there are some mechanisms that designers and design researchers can apply to their practice to counter this emerging trend.

In my own PhD, I have sought to counter these developments by staying focused on my contribution as design researcher while examining the role that the designed tools play in this context. Although there are many examples to be found of mapping tools and software that are interesting for their empowering potentials, actually using them and knowing how to use them is a completely different story. Earlier, I gave examples of how certain mapping software is used primarily by digitally educated people, which in the case of Open Street Maps coincides with the often male part of society. Therefore, I argued that it is not enough to have mapping tools and software (freely) available and expect people of all genders, ages, and socio-economic classes to actually use them (critically) and/or understand their value, keeping in mind that mapping tools and software are often too complex for ‘the average’ person to understand or work with. I have demonstrated how the design researcher can play a relevant mediating role by making the complex tools and software accessible and interesting to use for specific communities. This can entail designing own mapping tools, but it can also entail adapting existing mapping tools and software to the specific needs and wishes of certain communities.

In my case studies, I have mainly focused on designing own (contextually designed) mapping tools while making use of open-source (mapping) software. The reason for not choosing to adapt existing map apps is because I did not want to be limited by prior designs or constrained by the interests109 or programs for which the apps had been developed. Furthermore, it would have required more coding experience and precisely this technological aspect of building apps is not what I was focusing on. Instead, I turned my attention to the role of design researchers in the use of map apps. Designing the tools myself and testing them with certain communities enabled me to grasp the complexity of mapping tools and software while, at the same time, learning what my relevant contribution as a design researcher (and those of future design researchers) could be in this setting and at the intersection of the physical, technological, and sociopolitical.

7.5.2 New hybrid classifications In my PhD, I have only touched the surface when it comes to demonstrating the value of map apps for design research while working in public space context. While the classification that I used has yielded analytically interesting insights, I propose there are new bundles/packages of elements possible for further research. Therefore, I would like to discuss new (hybrid) classifications, with more refined terms than the characterisation of the three domains, for new research and with a focus on other groups in society.

The classification ‘society, research, and education’ has been guided in part by the TRADERS research program in which I undertook this doctoral research. In serving society, I have mainly looked at map app use to empower disadvantaged communities.

However, the kind of knowledge that is generated with the map app use in this context is not only of value for design researchers, but could be equally relevant for other domains and stakeholders such as architects, urbanists, or policy makers. For architects or urbanists, mapping qualitative data that involves the perception, feelings, and (informal) use of public space could help them make informed decisions in their designs. This could be equally relevant for policy makers when it comes to decisions that concern urban

109 In chapter 4, I described some of these interests in the research that I had performed on civic apps.

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regeneration and in the presentation of plans for sustainable or smart city policy. As we could see in the example of Barcelona, (where the ‘maker community’ as represented by the municipality or other (market-led) parties does not include the ‘informal makers’ that the students had encountered in their ethnographic research), in order to reach a broad social consensus on urban regeneration plans, it is important what discourse is used and to consider who is included in the data and maps on which decisions are based upon. A relevant track for future research could be to focus on the hybrid society-research through examining the value of map apps for specific fields and sub-domains such as the ones mentioned above.

Where it concerns map app use in educational context, I have focused on the value of the games for embodied interaction and peer-learning with maps. Although I have looked at the methodological contributions of map apps in this context, I did not focus on what map apps can contribute to the relation educator-learner and how this adds into (new) education models in which the relationship between learners and educators is more horizontal than hierarchical. Therefore, a relevant track for future research could be to focus on the relation learner-educator through examining the value of map apps for educators and within educational models.

7.5.3 Bridging the gap between theory and practice In the presented map apps of chapters 4 and 5, I see great potential for map app use in educational setting to contribute in bridging the gap between theory and practice.

Throughout my PhD, I have continuously sought to build bridges between the different knowledge worlds, a task that turned out to be more challenging than I had initially anticipated.

On the one hand, my expectations about the use of map apps with design students did not always coincide with theirs, which can be attributed in part to the problematic relation between design research and the use of digital technologies that I had already experienced earlier on in my PhD (and even with colleagues within my own TRADERS research program and the institute (Design Academy Eindhoven) where I did my research initially). This discovery not only underscored the relevance of my doctoral research for this community, it has also led to many misunderstandings. The designers, as participants in my research, did not view the kinds of problems that arise when working with these technologies as interesting from a research perspective or they expected the technologies to work smoothly and found many unforeseen problems in their use that demotivated them to continue. Most of the frictions that I have experienced with this group can be attributed to the fact that I work with pre-configured tools while using an exploratory approach. The digital component of this PhD research demands considerably more preparation and rigour in the setting up and conducting of workshop experiments than analogue tools would require, as changes or adaptations could not be made ad hoc or on the go. Throughout the PhD, I found that within the design community this kind of preparation and rigour in co-design sessions is seldom. I also discovered that design students, in general, are not used to working with digital technologies in a critical or research oriented way. Consequently, problems that occurred in workshop sessions —that I saw as interesting to reflect or iterate on from a research perspective— were not always approached as such by the participating students. Furthermore, I needed to develop an own framework to

reflect on my apps and findings as I did not find a similar analysis of map apps as research method in other design research practices. In the analytical section of this book, I have described many of the problems that I had encountered and proposed iterations with which I sought to further analyse the apps. The way in which I reflect on the apps —both through iterations as well as through the analytical framework that was proposed in this book— is a track that future design researchers could follow up on. On the one hand, this contribution focuses on the critical use of digital technologies and, on the other hand, it demonstrates how to analyse the tools and inform the design for research purpose.

On the other hand, using the apps with university students (at University of Utrecht amongst others) resulted in another set of challenges. Although the university students did view the kind of problems that come from working with digital technologies as interesting from a research perspective and were able to reflect on the use of the map apps from a theoretical perspective, proposing changes to the design as a form of critical practice was not something that these students felt comfortable with.

What the games in chapter 5 did not contribute enough to is in engaging the university students in reflection-in action (the students were rather engaged in reflection-on-action). The benefit of reflection-in-action is that it gives the participants the chance to redesign what is being done while it is being done and thus engage further in methodological critique. For example, when it comes to the way in which emotions were mapped in the apps that involve ethnographic research, it would be interesting to bring the design research approach that I propose in the study on emotions (where I use Barrett’s theory) back to the academic community to see what new insights in the study of emotions can be generated with the use of these apps, and how the relation between emotions and geo-coordinates could be further unpacked.

Design students or design researchers could be more (theoretically) informed about their research practice, while university students could benefit from the contextually (re-)designed tools that design researchers are accustomed to working with as a way to engage in the research in a more interventionist way and understand design as methodological critique. Therefore, I see great potential for these different approaches/ disciplines to collaborate more in future research.

This doctoral research has conceptualised the public domain as mental-physical-technological, a view of the public domain that has necessitated rethinking the (traditional) public space and spatial theories while also administering new meanings to maps as spatial representations and to mapping as a spatial practice. Therefore, this dissertation has a focus on the participatory potentials of mapping through embodied interaction, in regards to both interaction between individuals and the map, and interaction between participants themselves via the map. An interactive, collective, and embodied perspective has been taken up in order to study (and incorporate aspects of) the radical turn that has taken place in relation to cartography. The digitisation of maps combined with the public appropriation of digital tools (applications and software that allow people to (re)make maps) has made the clear-cut line between map-maker and map user, blurry and contested. These developments have not only given agency to people in the choice of data to map, they have also contributed to people participating in novel ways in the practice of meaning-making, a practice

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inherent in cartography. In the book, I outlined the ramifications of these developments and the opportunities that exist for researchers and educators in working with map apps as a participatory research method. Through case study examples, I have demonstrated how Digital Performative Mapping can be understood as a relational practice for makers and users, diverse students, diverse professionals, and experts; and how Digital Performative Mapping enables citizens to engage collectively in the practice of meaning-making, ultimately positioning Digital Performative Mapping as a means of mediating and exchanging different perspectives and knowledge worlds.

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LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS API - Application Programming Interface An API is a software intermediary that allows two applications to talk to each other. When using an application on one’s mobile phone, the application connects to the Internet and sends data to a server. The server then retrieves that data, interprets it, and sends it back to one’s phone, presenting the information in a readable way.

APPS - Applications GIS - Geographic Information System GIS is a system that creates, manages, and analyses data by connecting data to a map. GIS integrates location data (where things are) with descriptive information (what things are like there) and helps users understand patterns, relationships, and geographic context. GIS applications provide a foundation for mapping and analysis that is used in science and industry.

GPS - Global Positioning System GPS is a satellite-based radionavigation system that provides geolocation and time information to a GPS receiver anywhere on Earth where there is an unobstructed line of sight to four or more GPS satellites.

HCI - Human-Computer Interaction HCI is research in the design and the use of computer technology, which focuses on the interfaces between people and computers.

ICT - Information and Communication Technologies ICT stands for the use of computers and other electronic equipment and systems to collect, store, use, and send data digitally.

LBMG - Location-Based Mobile Game A LBMG is a type of pervasive game in which the gameplay evolves and progresses via a player’s location.

OSM - Open Street Maps OSM is a collaborative project to create a free editable geographic database of the world. Anyone who registers can participate, the input and adjustment of the data relies entirely on volunteers. OSM was founded partly out of critique on the high costs that commercial map companies charge for their products.

PAR - Participatory Action Research PAR is an approach to action research emphasising participation and action by members of communities affected by that research. It seeks to understand the world by trying to change it, collaboratively and following reflection.

PHP - Hypertext Preprocessor PHP is a widely-used open source general-purpose scripting language that is especially suited for web development.

PPGIS - Public Participation Geographic Information System PPGIS is a participatory approach to spatial planning and spatial information, which combines Participatory Learning and Action methods with geographic information systems.

RtD- Research through Design SMS - Short Message Service SMS is a service to send and receive short messages using a mobile phone.

VGI - Voluntary Geographic Information.

VGI is the harnessing of tools to create, assemble, and disseminate geographic data provided voluntarily by individuals. VGI is also referred to as user-generated content which allows people to have a more active role in activities such as urban planning and mapping.