Without the senses, we have no perception of this physical world. Our senses are the gateways to the world. We use our senses to anchor ourselves in the world as human beings and thus experience a sense of security and integration. We must learn to structure our sensory impressions and develop more awareness in sensory perception. This is an important basis for our work as architects and designers. After all, our senses are the organs with which we perceive architecture. I would like to show a way to develop more awareness – and also more precise concepts – for sensory perception. What we experience in perception as a complex unit must be differentiated and structured. For the multi-layered areas of sensory perception, we have the most diverse organs of perception that we need to know. Only in this way we´ll be able to categorize and evaluate our perceptions in a fruitful way. Every perception always involves several senses working together, with one sense having the leading function. This guiding function is closely linked to our intentions, to what we focus our senses on, what they are attracted to. Physiology today speaks of around eight to ten senses, but these are not very differentiated and delineated. Rudolf Steiner developed a conclusive concept of twelve senses between 1909 and 1924 and assigned them to the human being’s essential elements (body-soul-spirit). On this basis, there were many in-depth studies, e.g. by Willi Aeppli in his book “Sinnesorganismus, Sinnesverlust Sinnespflege” (Willi Aeppli: Sinnesorganismus Sinnesverlust Sinnespflege. Rudolf Steiner’s theory of the senses in its significance for education, Stuttgart 1979) in connection with educational issues. Hans Jürgen Scheuerle made a significant contribution to the relationship towards architecture in his work on the overall organization of the senses (Jürgen Scheurle: Die Gesamtsinnesorganisation, Stuttgart 1984) and to the concretization of the modalities. For me, this approach is an essential basis for consciously dealing with the senses and their relationship to the elements of architecture. The twelve senses are the sense of touch, the sense of life, the sense of movement, the sense of balance, the sense of taste, the sense of smell, the sense of sight, the sense of warmth, the sense of hearing, the sense of speech, the sense of thought and the sense of self. In the following I can only give examples of individual senses. These twelve senses are divided into three groups or modalities: the physical senses, the spatial senses and the temporal senses.

The body senses

We can call the first four senses the bodily senses. They give us information about how we relate to the world with our physical body. They are the senses of self-perception or body perception (the red part of the diagram). Let’s do a little exercise here. Pick out a small object, e.g. a small stone. Feel what you experience: Pressure on the skin, pointy or smooth – this is a tactile experience. For the tactile experience, you must constantly move the object, i.e. activate your sense of movement. But you also experience something else, the heaviness, the weight of the stone. You experience this with the sense of life. And you also experience the temperature: is the stone cold or warm, is the sun shining on it? This is where we experience the sense of warmth. You can see how varied this little tactile exercise is and how we also activate the other senses involuntarily. The sense of balance tells us the position of our body in relation to the spatial directions: left, right, front, back, up, down. The sense of movement provides us with information about the position of our body and limbs and registers changes in position. We perceive external movements by following them internally in our body. We find the organ of the sense of movement in our musculature, in the shortening and lengthening of the muscles. This is how we perceive movements and forms outside ourselves through the muscles in our eyes.

The spatial senses (green marked)

The next group out of those twelve are the sensory or spatial senses: the sense of taste, the sense of smell, the sense of sight and the sense of warmth. They convey mental impressions to us. The sense of smell, for example, tells us what is in the air. In a room, for example, it warns us if we smell a burning smell. The sense of smell is always active, but we only become aware of it when there is a change in the environment. Nevertheless, it is very present when we enter a house, for example, and are confronted with a certain smell. A smell that we know from another situation, e.g. from our childhood, from our grandparents. If we now follow this perception, we find ourselves in our grandmother’s house with all the emotional sensations of that time. The olfactory experience is strongly linked to the room and place and our earlier experiences. This emerges from the semi-conscious, our consciousness has no direct access to it. Our sense of sight is our guiding sense, especially in today’s visually influenced culture. We perceive colors, light, bright and dark, contrasts, but also shapes and formats. We have a clear sense organ, but it conveys more to us than just the visual. We can see how complex the subject is and that “seeing” is not just limited to the optics of the eye. We have visual perceptions that immediately evoke sensations. With this group of senses – sense of taste, sense of smell, sense of sight and sense of warmth – we open up space. We leave our body. We feel ourselves in space, we actively connect with our surroundings. We can also call them the spatial senses.

The senses of time (yellow marked)

The next group of senses are the senses that extend beyond space, the senses of time. Their qualities can only be experienced in time. These senses are closely related to the volitional senses of our bodily or self-perception. They require the abilities of the bodily senses, but the direction of perception is directed outwards through our consciousness towards our fellow human beings, towards the animated and essential. Against this background, we can also refer to this group as the social senses. It includes the sense of hearing, which forms the transition from the feeling-oriented to the thinking-oriented senses, the sense of speech, the sense of thought and the sense of self. A piece of music or a conversation cannot be captured, it develops on the timeline. We have therefore become familiar with three sensory or modal areas: the physical senses, the spatial senses and the temporal senses.

Senses and the relationship to architecture

In the following, the references to architectural perception and architectural elements will be briefly outlined. As a rule, we remain completely unaware of our bodily senses. They anchor us in the world and allow us to experience the qualities of architecture directly in our own bodies (see diagram). If everything is harmonious and nothing throws us off balance, we are usually not aware of it. We move safely in the space, but have no conscious experience of our bodies. The architectural references to these senses are the spatial directions, the construction and statics, supports and loads, the dynamics in the space, the materiality, the natural, structured material, the surfaces. The following examples illustrate this well: If we are in a room with vertical windows, we can feel these verticals in our back and in our spine. We are straightened up. If the room has “horizontal” windows, we can feel the need in our body to move into a horizontal position. If we look at sloping pillars, an activity is generated in us to bring ourselves upright against this slant. We experience the need to restore the vertical. We are usually not aware of these perceptions, but they have an effect on us. As the example of the sense of smell shows, we are only half aware of our perception of the spatial senses. They only enter our consciousness when we direct our attention to them, but they still create an indirect, unconscious impression. For example, we perceive odors as described above when they create a great difference and discrepancy to our expectations. So there is something unexpected. The sense of temperature or warmth also only comes into our consciousness when we feel cold or too warm. We are only partially aware of the activity of our sense of sight. For example, when we are driving a car, we perceive very few things consciously. Who can say afterwards the color of the house that we drove past if it didn’t catch our attention? We can assign special architectural perceptions to this sensory area. Smells, colors, light and shadow, room temperature and mood are the elements in architecture with which we experience the atmosphere, the perception of space. Let us illustrate this with an example. Imagine entering a room painted in vivid terracotta, where the light falls in through a window and the window bars draw shadows on the blue-grey terrazzo floor. We feel the protection and warmth of the walls and the coolness of the floor – color and light make us feel cheerful. “Our hearts open up.” Our attention is usually required to perceive the senses of time. These are the senses that are only active with awareness. We use these senses to perceive the following architectural qualities: the sound of the room, the proportions, the shape and form, the idea of the room and even the essence of the building. When we allow the impressions of the previous senses to take effect on us, the room speaks to us. Through our own speaking or singing in the room, the room responds through its acoustics, its reverberation or its acoustic dullness. We experience the regularity of its proportions and we sense the shape of the room.

Awareness in perception

If we want to practise this deeper perception of architecture, we need to develop more awareness, especially for the perception of the physical and spatial senses. After all, they also form the basis for the higher senses of time. Without awareness of our own bodily perception, we cannot classify our sensory experiences. We lack the basis for understanding how space affects us. However, this is the basis for consciously using architectural qualities when designing architecture. In the visual perception exercise, we have seen that we are initially drawn out towards the object, but are then thrown back into ourselves. We compare the image with our earlier perceptions, the concepts we developed from them and our ideas. We then project these back into the world. If we want to develop our perception further, we should proceed with the following intention. Let us extend our visual process, leave behind our intentional gaze for individual details and move around the room with an expanded vision, trying first to sense and then to raise our awareness of what the other senses are showing us. It will be an exercise to remain completely in perception, to expand the pure process of perception. For example, when seeing, to observe exactly what is happening, which other senses are involved. Where do resonances arise in our body, in our sensations, in our cognitive life? If we try to stay in the space with our perception for as long as possible, we can experience that new things also emerge, as our ideas do not immediately close off the perceptual space. We must practice expanding our perception, immersing ourselves in our perception, controlling our flow of thoughts and protecting ourselves from quick judgment and concepts, increasing our consciousness, our awareness. It is a simultaneous experience on three levels. Through the body-related senses I have the perception “I am within myself”, through the space-related senses the perception “I am in the world, in space” and through the time-related senses “I am in the flow, stream of thoughts, in the presence of mind”. If we manage to keep our sensory attention in space with full awareness and endure the tension, we will be able to observe that something is coming towards us from the future, the timeless space of thought, that something is opening up. In architecture, the building idea, the essential, can reveal itself as the essence of architecture.

Further reading:

– Wulf Schneider: Sinn und Un-Sinn – Umwelt sinn-

in architecture and design,

Wiesbaden / Berlin 1987.

– Rudolf Steiner: Themes from the Complete Works 3,

On the theory of the senses, Stuttgart 1981.

– Arthur Zajonc: The shared history of

Light and Consciousness, Hamburg, 1997.

Thirty spokes support the hub,
But the emptiness makes the wheel usable.
The potter moulds clay into vessels,
the emptiness inside makes the vessel.
Windows and doors are broken into walls,
the emptiness inside makes the dwelling.
Thus the visible forms the shape of a work,
and the invisible makes it valuable.
Lao Tzu ¹

1. Laotse, Tao te king, Spruch 11.

In architecture, there is a mysterious overlapping of space, sensations and consciousness. Spaces can create moods in us through their design and atmosphere and steer our consciousness in a certain direction. This is a mysterious phenomenon, because the spatial is actually something invisible. How is this possible and what triggers such sensations? Most of the time it happens largely unconsciously, but is it possible to make such sensations conscious and how do you do that? The weekend seminar ‘Space – Sensation – Design’, which took place from 8-10 March 2024 at Alanus University near Bonn, was dedicated to these questions. It was organised by the Section for Fine Arts at the Goetheanum in collaboration with the IFMA (International Forum for Man and Architecture) and the architecture department of the Alanus University of Arts and Social Sciences. The programme was divided into three parts. First there were three introductions with exercises on different types of spatial perception, then we tried them out on three special buildings in Cologne, and finally we analysed and deepened our experiences.

Introductions to spatial perception
Three architects began by presenting their different methods of exploring space. The first to speak was Luigi Fiumara, Chairman of the IFMA, on the perception of architectural space in one’s own body. He referred to a statement by Rudolf Steiner in which he describes architecture as projecting the laws of the human body into space(2). If it is indeed the case that we project the laws of our own bodies into architecture, then surely we should also be able to feel the architectural design on our own bodies? To investigate this, different spatial forms were created using large sheets of corrugated cardboard. Some participants stood inside and tried to feel the qualities of the different spatial forms on their own bodies. They started with a triangular room. This triggered a feeling of restlessness in everyone. The room draws attention to the sharp corners and doesn’t allow you to calm down. This changes immediately when this triangular room is transformed into a hexagon. A calming effect is created immediately, and if this spatial form still has a tendency towards movement, it does not draw you outwards, but invites you to move in circles. In this way, each spatial form has its own character, which we can feel in ourselves as physical and emotional stimuli when we live in it and feel it inwardly. But how do we perceive these qualities? The contribution by architect Martin Riker was dedicated to this question. He used Rudolf Steiner’s theory of the senses with its twelve senses to help us understand the complexity, but also the holistic nature of spatial experience (3). He used a series of projected images of tables to illustrate the fact that the senses are not separate from each other and can also interact with each other. We were therefore not looking at actual tables, but only at projected images of them. All the impressions that these images aroused in us were therefore channelled through the sense of sight. Nevertheless, we were able to perceive qualities such as statics, dynamics, balance, warmth, texture, form, mood, etc. Willem-Jan Beeren, Professor of Art and Architecture at Alanus University, offered a completely different approach to spatial perception with his contribution on space as an experience of sound. Hearing is one of the higher senses and, in contrast to seeing, takes place in time. In hearing, we do not extend ourselves beyond the space, but allow it to enter us (4). This was also made tangible with experiments. We heard fragments of sound that made us involuntarily visualise certain spaces, such as a canteen or cafeteria. We also moved around the room speaking, trying to observe the transition from sounds to speech and from speech to mental meaning. Equipped with these different exercises and approaches, we ventured out the next day to look at three monumental buildings in Cologne.

An unintentional experience of depth
The aim of our excursion was to see three highlights of sacred architecture in Cologne. However, it began with an unintentional visit to four underground spaces. Our electric car needed a charging point and, hoping to find one there, we drove into the multi-storey car park at the cathedral. We crossed the car park but couldn’t find a charging station, so we drove out again after a few minutes. Fortunately, there was a second car park nearby, which we also drove into, searched and left again without success. Right next door was a third car park, which we drove into again, searched and had to leave again within a few minutes without success. That was when it started to get funny and we realised the connection to the subject of the excursion. We had travelled to Cologne to see three highlights of sacred architecture, but we had passed through various underground spaces in the city. We usually ignore such experiences. However, the fact that we had to pass through four buildings of this type one after the other suddenly made us realise the special character of these places. They were all low and dark, with no pretence of design that went beyond purely functional purpose fulfilment. Their narrowness, lowliness and dirtiness gave them all a somewhat eerie atmosphere. You would never think of staying there, but would want to leave the space as soon as the car was parked and only return when you wanted to drive out. Once we were up there in the sunshine and the cathedral was shining brightly in front of us, we breathed a sigh of relief and realised how beneficial the fresh air and warm sunlight were. However, it was an interesting preparation for our excursion to realise how rooms can be ‘deprived’ and ‘enriched’ by natural elements such as daylight and spiritual qualities.

Up into the light
Cologne Cathedral is visible from afar and shows travellers where the centre of the city is located. As you get closer, the surrounding buildings soon obscure the view of the cathedral until, when you get very close, it suddenly reappears in its towering grandeur. As you enter, you are involuntarily enveloped by a kind of concentrated silence. The mighty height, the rhythmic bundles of pillars, the coloured windows – they lend the room a grandeur that almost everyone can sense and that casts a spell over everyone. However, we intended to consciously explore the space. To do this, we split into three groups, who looked at the room from the angles we had practised the previous evening. One group focussed on the acoustics of the room, the second let the room affect all the senses and the third tried to feel the effect of the room on their own bodies. After half an hour, we exchanged our experiences and switched to the other group. One of the first fruits of this approach was that we became aware of our usual way of perceiving space. Instead of letting your gaze wander at will, you had to concentrate on a specific aspect. However, you were constantly distracted by interesting details or other visitors. All these visual impressions prevent you from paying attention to the sound of a room, for example. But if you try to do so, a new world opens up. Even with your eyes closed, you can sense that you are in a very high, structured room. If you move around listening, you will notice how different the sound is in the nave, the side aisles and the crypt. Above all, however, this crypt has a completely different sound and atmosphere to the underground car parks you have just visited. What was particularly noticeable was the uplifting power of the space, especially in the central nave. The mighty bundles of pillars appealed to our own verticality, whereby the threefold structure of the wall in the choir resonated with the threefold structure in our own body: the coloured windows in the upper area with the head and chest area, the middle zone with the stomach area and the lower area with its continuous pillars with our own legs. What leads up to the light when looking towards the east, above the altar, works in the opposite direction towards the west. There, before leaving the cathedral, the mighty bundles of pillars bring visitors back down to earth with their two legs.

An ambivalent space
In the afternoon, we visited St Gertrud’s Church in Cologne’s Neustadt district. It was designed by the architect Gottfried Böhm in 1960 and built between 1962 and 1965. Unlike Cologne Cathedral, it is not a free-standing church, but one that is embedded in the surrounding buildings. The two buildings are also very different inside. On entering St Gertrud’s Church, the eye first has to get used to the darkness. Then an asymmetrical, open-plan space becomes visible. Although the entrance is opposite the chancel, the spatial effect is not axial, but rather rounded. There is no clear spatial direction, as we experienced in the cathedral. As a result, we needed some time to orientate ourselves in the room. We tried to do this from several different places, but without any success. After a while, we realised that this probably had to do with the fact that the functional direction of the room, which is clearly oriented towards the altar and the crucifix hanging above it, and the architectural direction of the room, which runs more in the transverse direction, contradict each other. The mighty, crystalline folds in the dark concrete roof cross the orientation towards the altar and rather convey a transverse spatial direction. At the top left, the roof rises above three crystalline windows, while on the right it rests on a flatter wall that serves for two confessionals made of raw concrete. If you look up from these confessionals to the windows, the room has a harmonious effect, but the altar area is ignored. So we struggled to understand this independent and expressive space, but did not succeed well. Did the confessionals perhaps have a much greater significance in the post-war period than they do today? We felt our way in, but couldn’t find the key. Just before we were about to leave, our eyes fell on a poster with a quote from the architect: ‘I didn’t actually want to build a sacred space at that time after the war […] I was a believer, but I was completely against this sacred atmosphere, I rejected it. Strangely enough, it is now the case that although people have stronger doubts and resistance to faith, they tend to recognise the value of the sacred again.’ Was this perhaps the inner reason for the ambivalence of the room that we felt here? However, we were puzzled as to how it is possible for such an inner attitude to be reflected in the architectural design and still be experienced decades later and cause problems for visitors. In the meantime, as posters testify, the church management is also looking for an extended purpose for the church as a cultural space.

Golden doctrines in the domed room
There was no sign of such ambivalence at the DiTiB central mosque in Cologne-Ehrenfeld, which we visited at the end of the afternoon. Completed in 2017 to a design by Paul Böhm, the son of Gottfried Böhm, the building appears lively and seems to fully fulfil its intended purpose. The mosque is located on a thoroughfare and is visible from afar with its 35 metre high dome and 55 metre high minarets. The mosque is part of a larger building complex with an underground car park, a shopping centre, offices, cafeteria and ritual washrooms. The above-ground functions are grouped around an elevated inner courtyard, which is accessible via two wide staircases. The design of the surrounding courtyard buildings is rectangular and simple, with the actual mosque clearly standing out due to its rounded shapes. It consists of six domed segments rising towards the centre with glass strips in between, which let in daylight and contain the entrances. Although the mosque is freely accessible, it can only be visited by groups on a guided tour. This was provided by a student who informed us about the design of the building as well as its religious background. He told us that the two central tenets of Islam: ‘There is no god but Allah and Mohammed is his prophet’ are inscribed in elegant calligraphic script on the two wooden entrance doors and thus mark the entrance to the true faith. Inside, the walls of the prayer room are also decorated with golden letters using calligraphic texts from the Koran and the names of the arch-fathers. Otherwise, there are only geometric decorations and, unlike the cathedral and St Gertrude’s Church, the room is free of pictorial representations. Another contrast to these two buildings is that the building envelope of the mosque consists of rounded building elements. These have curved edges, as if they had been loosely cut out of the domes. If you try to feel the whole thing in your own body, you will feel it most strongly in the head area. The doctrines that surround the believer in golden letters also appeal to the head. They are revealed and traditional beliefs that are constantly visualised. At the very top, at the zenith of the dome, there is a round light opening with a ten-pointed star in it, which represents Allah and is intended to make it possible to experience how his presence is always close at hand. The soft, light blue carpet, which covers the entire interior and gives it the character of a huge, communal living room, is particularly evocative. Shoes must therefore be removed before entering the room. The carpet lifts the room from the everyday into an elevated sphere and at the same time makes it more comfortable to prostrate oneself on the ground in prayer. This ‘throwing oneself on the ground for Allah’ is the central gesture of prayer and the architecture supports this gesture with its formal language. It guides the curves of the domed segments down to the earth in a flowing movement, just as the worshippers themselves bend towards the earth. In other words, a harmonious combination of inner attitude, ritual action and architectural gesture.

Organisation and religious feeling
The next morning, we looked back on our experiences of the previous days. Firstly, we tried to draw the three buildings we had visited from memory. Of course, this was only possible to a very limited extent, but each participant nevertheless managed to capture some characteristic design elements. The overall result was amazing, however, because despite a lack of memory and drawing skills, very clear, unmistakable features emerged. The buildings visited could be characterised with a few slanted or curved lines. Apparently, we recognise buildings by such features and sense their character from them. During the conversation, we realised topics that we had just tried to ignore the day before. We had concentrated on the spatiality of the buildings and not allowed ourselves to be distracted by other visitors. In reality, however, they were there and we were well aware of them. They coloured the memories and added an essential element. In retrospect, I realised that the use of the three buildings was very different. Although there were many visitors to the cathedral, they were mostly tourists who had come less for the church service than for the impressive architecture. When we entered St Gertrude’s Church, it was initially completely empty. We were the only visitors for quite some time. After a while, a couple of people looked cautiously around the corner, apparently saw nothing of interest and disappeared again. The mosque was the only one that functioned as intended. It was also the newest building and had only been completed seven years ago. What this observation taught us was that even if a room design is initially seamlessly adapted to its intended use, the religious sentiment behind it can change and the context can become detached as a result. This does not necessarily mean that the building loses its value. It can also be transformed. The cathedral still forms the centrepiece of the city and can still convey very valuable experiences, even if the religious experience has changed. Indeed, it is even a special quality of architecture to capture such past religious feelings and ideas in stone, allowing us to relive them centuries later.

Design and identity
For many architects, it is a high goal to create spatial forms that are functionally and sensitively suited to their use. In the buildings we visited, this was currently most strongly the case with the mosque. Nevertheless, I felt a certain inner reservation. Although some of my architectural ideals were fulfilled, I couldn’t quite identify with them. Where did this come from and how did I know for sure? It had nothing to do with judgement, I just felt that it wasn’t my way. Apparently we can feel the character of external forms and their relatedness or strangeness in relation to our own identity. This experience has little to do with an aesthetic judgement. I can find something beautiful, but it can still be alien to me. It can be an artistic masterpiece and yet it is possible that I cannot identify with it. Apparently, there is a kind of ‘sense of identity’ that allows us to perceive both the character of visible objects such as buildings and our own, completely invisible identity. It was an unexpected and fascinating experience that we realised in these buildings.

Unexpected shifts and new insights
Were these the most important fruits of this weekend seminar? They were certainly valuable, but probably even more important was the experience that it is possible to deepen one’s own spontaneous experience of space and become aware of it. Usually a large part of it passes us by unnoticed. By becoming aware of them and sharing them, unexpected layers and insights opened up. What at first glance appeared to be subjective impressions usually turned out to be shared perceptions. Although people experience things individually, this does not mean that the experiences are only subjective. One’s own perception can obviously be developed into a kind of organ of perception. This requires practice, both in perception and in the articulation of what has been experienced, but is evidently an accessible and very enriching path. The disadvantage is perhaps that the experience is not objective in the usual scientific sense. The advantage, however, is that you educate yourself in this way. Where else would an architect draw inspiration from when designing? And how can you create sensitively harmonised spaces for your client if you haven’t developed a feel for them yourself beforehand? So the seminar was above all a confirmation of the importance of developing new organs for perceiving and sensing spaces and an incentive to practise on this path. How these skills can be put into practice when designing, how working behind the computer affects these skills and what new skills this design work requires of us are questions for the next weekend seminar.

2 Rudolf Steiner: Kunst im Lichte der Mysterienweisheit, GA 275, Dornach 1980, S. 43.

3 Rudolf Steiner: Zur Sinneslehre, Stuttgart 1980.

4 Juhani Pallasmaa: The Eyes of the Skin, Architecture and the senses, New Jersey 1996.

The building is located in the city of Berlin, very close to the train station of Gesundbrunnen in Wedding. It overlooks a quiet street on one side and the S-Bahn railways on the other side. The architect Arno Brandlhuber and Muck Petzet built this commercial and residential five-story building, named Terrassenhaus, between 2014 and 2018. The name Terrassenhaus would be translated into English as „Terrace House“.

A friend of the editorial board Nathalia Kharkova and I visited the site and collected observations.

When we first walked down the street and saw the building, we noticed that it paticularly stands out because of its geometrical shape: the monotone gray facade is not aligned with the other ones. The floors increasingly recede from the frontfacades of the street, leaving room for a square below, to be used by pedestrians as well. The house is attached only on its left side to the neighbouring house and it is independent on the right side. 

The raw concrete structure is extremely clear and the glass windows on every floor allow people to look through the building. There is almost no opaque surface that blocks your curious eye from seeing what is going on inside and in the courtyard behind.

As we further walked down the street, we saw that the other side of the house, which is sitting in a trapezoidal piece of land, has an opposite character. This front is totally blind: a rough concrete wall folded like paper and a very thin staircase on top are the only visible things. In such a way the building is only open towards the north-south axis and locked on the east-west axis. What at first seemed to be an amorphous composition turns out to be more similar to an irregular mineral.

The shape of the building cannot still be fully understood before having a look at the backside. From this inner courtyard the system of the whole project becomes clear: every floor has a single horizontal glass facade and a wide six-meter-deep non-overlapping terrace, which is shared by the two apartments on every floor. 

Furthermore from south to north a staircase runs on both sides of the perimeter of the building. In such a way all the terraces are accessible from the east as well as from the west side and everyone is free to step on every corner of the property. In such a manner the private and and the public spaces are connected to a point where they are no longer distinguishable. 

After having briefly described the overall shape, I would like to point out a couple of objective-subjective observations starting from the backside.

When we now focus on these terraces and their proportions and how they were „sculpted“, some elements stand out over others. These volumes and its surfaces confluence into particular directions which may suggest a certain quality of movement. 

We notice that the concrete slabs and the metal handrails are strong elements that create a firm and tight horizontal, rythmic succession. This „tempo“, increased by the incident perspective lines that the staircases on both sides of the building convey (the building has trapezoidal plan), favours an accelerated and troubled look over the terraces. This movement the eye is driven to stops suddenly reaching the common roof top and then the sky. This interrupted climax is caused by the lack of a clear end or, as I like to call it „head of the building“. The shape suggests actually that the structure or pattern slab-handrail could be reproduced endlessly. The project suggests a process suddenly stopped.

The only element that tries to unify the ensemble is the staircase which encloses the perimeter. Such circular, boundary-less circulation brings a fundamental sence of playfullness and lightness to the project, even if in a fragile and bare way. That manages to elevate the mass of the whole built body.

The dynamic just mentioned, rules indeed the whole north-south axis and can be experienced also from the outside. 

On this axis the profile given on one side by the retractive facade and the ziggurat like on the other side marks a clear diagonal. It seems if the entire building could stretch and reach out over the street. However, as noticed before, the direction the eye instinctively follows is leading into nowhere. The whole ensemble looks like the base of a bridge which has not been built to an end, and could actually still grow and extend, suggesting a sence of firminess that it is not yet to be fulfilled.

The quality of the architecture that generally preveys is the overall layout strongly determining the life of the residents and challenging our current living manner. Though the project recreates a small ecosystem that embodies a global world without boundaries, provides a generous space, where meeting people and exercising a communal life is possible which is a crucial part for our individual well-being and development.

Nevertheless the few aspects mentioned in the text also affect the outcome of the project, even if they are less tangible, but still have a strong impact on the human being. 

The architecture expresses a severe, cool and gloomy language which, on our way home, reminded me of the colour „The Cursed Poets“ used in their poems.

Dear friends,

Here are some news about our past events and others to come:

TRAINING

“The human dimension of architecture”

The last training session we organised in Chatou from 8 to 13 April was a resounding success, generating a great deal of enthusiasm among participants and instructors alike.

The aim was to design a personal residence, taking into account the elements of the site, the climate and the needs of the individual, in order to create a living space that is in harmony with people and nature.

Everyone left with their drawings and models, happy to have gone through a process of creation and self-building.

The course, which was open to everyone – architects, designers, specialists and ordinary residents keen to take part in this kind of construction – was enjoyed by all.

Some of them were able to receive funding from a training fund.

We’re looking into the possibility of building more in-depth training programm modules that could be spread over weekends.

EDUCATING PEOPLE ABOUT ARCHITECTURE

“For a pedagogy of living and inhabiting”.

This year, there will be no summer academy at Cantercel, but we plan to meet in small groups to share our experiences and reflect together on the theme of education in architecture.

We also want to establish contacts with teachers or former teachers from architecture schools to enrich our thinking and forge links and even partnerships.

The first meeting will take place in Cantercel on the 21 and 22 of August 2024.

The second will take place in Paris on 10th November. This will provide an opportunity to invite other speakers who are closer to the Paris region.

SYMPOSIUM ON IMRE MAKOVECZ

Saturday 9 November 2024 at the Phare Lighthouse – Paris

We have invited Nathalie Grekofski from Budapest to talk to us about the great Hungarian architect Makovecz, whom she had the good fortune to meet during the last years of his life.

For this event, we invite you to book the day, which will be devoted to a workshop, a presentation and discussion.

It will take place at the Phare Lighthouse, 11 Rue Neuve Popincourt 75011 Paris.

BACK – SYMPOSIUM ON RICARDO PORRO

On Saturday the 06 April, Isabelle Val de Flor presented several works from the Cuban architect, sculptor and painter Ricardo PORRO. A rhythmic slide show took us on a tour of the architect’s works in the Paris region.

This was followed by an excellent open discussion with the participation of Katherine Fiumani and Gilles Jacquemot, who knew him well. Véronique Lours shared her experience as a architect student with the man she describes as the ‘Diva of architecture’.

A colourful, sometimes exuberant character, Porro, the Cuban exile who ‘succeeded in emancipating himself from the rigours of teaching’, expressed his intention to ‘give a poetic framework to architecture’.