IDENTITY, INTIMACY AND

DOMICILE
Notes on the phenomenology of home

JUHANI PALLASMAA

The architect and the concept of home

Architecture vs. home
The essence of home
Poetics of home - refuge and terror
The home of the memory
The image of home
Nostalgia of home
Home and identity
Intimacy and home
Ingredients of human life
The poetry of the wardrope
Hearth and fire
Functions of the table
Dilution of images of home
Lack of concreteness
Architecture of tolerance
The virtue of idealization
Feasibility of a homecoming

PICTURE SOURCES 1
REFERENCES

Architecture and home

1 The architect's house: Peter Eisenman, House
IV
(Frank House), Cornwall, Connecticut, 1972-73.
2 The painter's house. Edward Hopper,
High Noon, 1949, Ohio, The Dayton Art Institute. 2

The architect and the concept of home

We architects are concerned with designing dwellings as architectural

manifestations of space, structure and order, but we seem unable tO
touch upon the more subtle, emotional and diffuse aspects of home. In
the schools of architecture we are taught to design houses and
dwellings, not homes. Yet it is the capacity of the dwelling to provide
domicile in the world that matters to the individual dweller. The dwelling
has its psyche and soul in addition to its formal and quantifiable
qualities.

The titles of architeCtural books invariably use the notion of 'house'- 'The
Modern House', 'GA-Houses', 'California Houses", ete. - whereas books
and magazines that deal with interior decoration and celebrities prefer
the notion of 'home' - 'Celebrity Homes', 'Artist Homes', etc.. Needless to
say that the publications of the latter type are considered sentimental
entertainment and kitsch by the professional architect.
 Our concept of architecture is based on the idea of the perfectly
articulated architectural object. The famous court case between Mies van
der Rohe and his client, Dr. Edith Farnsworth, concerning the Farnsworth
House, is an example of the contradiction between architecture and
home. As we all know, Mies had designed one of the most important and
aesthetically appealing houses of our century, but his client did not find
it satisfactory as a home. The court, incidentally, decided in Mies's
favour. I am not underrating Mies's architecture; I am simply pointing
out the distancing from life and a deliberate reduction of the spectrum of
life. When we compare designs of Modernity with those of today's avant-
garde, we immediately observe a loss of empathy for the dweller.
Instead of being motivated by the architect's social vision, or view of life,
architecture has become self-referential and autistic.

Many of us architects seem to have developed a kind of split personality:

as designers and as dwellers we apply different sets of values to the
environment. In our role as architects we aspire for a meticulously
articulated and temporally onedimensional environment, whereas as
dwellers ourselves, we prefer a more layered, ambiguous and
aesthetically less coherent environment; the instinctual dwellcr emerges
through the role values of the professional.

3 4
Architecture and home
3 Vincent van Gogh: Vincent's room in 4 Marcel Breuer: dining room of the
Arles, 1888. Piscator House, Berlin, 1926.

Architecture vs. home

The question arises: can a home be an architectural expression? Home is

not, perhaps, at all a notion of architecture, but of psychology,
psychoanalysis and sociology.

Home is an individualized dwelling, and the means of this subtle

personalization seem to be outside our notion of architecture. Dwelling, a
house, is the container, the shell for home. The substance of home is
secreted, as it were, upon the framework of the dwelling by the dweller.

Home is an expression of personality and family and their very unique

patterns of life. Consequently, the essence of home is eloser to life itself
than to artefact.
 The architectural dimension of the house and the personal and private
dimension of life have become totally fused in our time of excessive
specialization only in certain cases, such as Alvar Aalto's Villa Mairea,
which is a product of an exceptional friendship and interaction betwcen
the arehitect and his client, an opus con amore, as Aalto himself has
confessed 1. Equally important, it is the expression of a mutually shared
utopian vision of a better and more humane world.

Villa Mairea is archaic and modern, rustic and elegant, regional and
universal at the same time. It refers simultaneously to the past and the
future, it is abundant in its imagery and, consequently, provides ample
soil for individual psychie attachement. In his book 'Poeties of Space' 2,
which deals with the psyche of space, Gaston Bachelard deliberates on
the essence of the oneiric house, the house of the mind. He is undecided
about the number of floors of this archetypal house; it has either three
or four floors. But the existence of an attic and a cellar are essential,
because the attic is the symbolic storage place for pleasant memories
that the dweller wants to return to, whereas the cellar is the hiding place
for unpleasant memories; both are needed for our mental well-being.

It is evident that the charaeteristics of the Oneiric house are culturally

conditional but, on the other hand, the image seems to rcflect universal
constants of the human mind. Modern architecture has forcefully
attempted to avoid or eliminate this oneiric image. Consequently, it is
not surprising that Modern Man's rejection of history has been
accompanied by the rejection of psychic memory attaehed to primal
images. The obsession with newness, the non-traditional and the
unforeseen has wiped away the image of the house from our soul.

We build dwellings that, perhaps, satisfy most of our physical needs, but
which do not house our mind.

5 6
Home and the inhabitant's identity
5 John Wayne's living room. 6 John Wayne.

The essence of home

 It is evident that home is not an object, a building, but a diffuse and
complex condition that integrates memories and images, desires and
fears, the past and the present. A home is also a set of rituals, personal
rhythms and routines of everyday life. Home cannot he produced all at
once; it has its time dimension and continuum and is a gradual product
of the family's and individual's adaptation to the world. A home cannot,
thus, become a marketable product. Current advertisements of furniture
shops offering a chance 'to renew one's home at one go' are absurd -
they amount to a psychologist's advertisement to renew the mental
contents of the patient's mind at one go.

Reflection on the essence of home takes us away from the physical

properties of a house into the psychic territory of the mind. It engages
us with issues of identity and memory, consciousness and the
unconscious, biologically motivated behavioural remnants as well as
culturally conditioned reactions and values.

7 8
Home and fear
7 Rene Magritte: The Tomb of a Wrestler, 1960. 8 Alfred Hitchcock: The Rear Window 1954.
Collection Harry Torezyner, New York City.

Poetics of home - refuge and terror

The description of home seems to belong more to the .realms of poetry,

the novel, film and painting more than to architecture.

'Poets and painters are born phenomenologists', as J.H. van den Berg
has remarked 3. And so, in my view, are novelists, photographers and
film directors. That is why the essence of home, its function as a mirror
and support of the inhabitant's psyche is often more revealingly pictured
in these art forms than in architecture. In the recent Berlage Papers
(January 1994) the filmmaker Jan Vrijman makes this thought-provoking
remark: '... why is it that architecture and architects, unlike film and
filmmakers, are so little interested in people during the design process?
Why are they so theoretical, so distant from life in general?'

The artist is not concerned with the principles and intentions of the
discipline of architecture and, consequently, he approaches the mental
significance of images of the house and the home directly. Thus,
artworks dealing with space, light, buildings and dwelling, provide
valuable lessons to architects on the very essence of architecture itself.
 Jean-Paul Sartre has written perceptively about the authenticity of the
artist's house: '(The painter) makes them (houses), that is, he creates
an imaginary house on the canvas and not a sign of a house. And the
house, which thus appears preserves all the ambiguity of real houses'. 4

As well as being a symbol of protection and order, home can, in negative

life situations, become a concretization of human misery: of loneliness,
rejection, exploitation and violence.

In the opening chapter of 'Crime and Punishment', Raskolnikov visits the

home of the old usurer woman, his future victim, and Dostojevsky gives
a laconic but haunting description of the home, which eventually turns
into the scene of the murder. Home turns from a symbol of security to a
symbol of threat and violence.

The home interiors of Balthus reflect strange sexual tensions - the home
has become eroticized - whereas Hitchcock charges the most ordinary
home with extraordinary threat, as in the films 'The Rear Window',
'Marnie' and 'The Rope'. Home is an intra-psychic and multidimensional
experience that is difficult to describe objectively. Thus an introspective
and phenomenological survey of images, emotions, experiences and
recollections of home seems to be a fruitful approach in analysing this
notion that we all constantly use, but rarely stop to analyse.

9 10
The painful memory of home
9 Andrey Tarkovsky: The Mirror, 1975. 10 Andrey Tarkovsky: Nostalgia, 1983.

The home of the memory

The word home makes us suddenly and simultaneously remember all the
warmth, protection and love of our entire childhood. Perhaps, our homes
of adulthood are only an unconscious search for the lost home of
childhood.

But, the memory of home also awakens all the distress and fear that we
may have experienced in our childhood.

'A house constitutes a body of images that give mankind proofs or

illusions of stability 5, and, 'It is an instrument with which to confront
the cosmos' 6, Bachelard writes. And he is speaking about the home, a
house filled with the essence of personal life. Home is a collection and
concretization of personal images of protection and intimacy that help us
recognize and remember who we are.

Home is a staging of personal memory. It functions as a two-way

mediator - personal space expresses the personality to the outside
world, but, equally important, it strengthens the dweller's self-image and
concretizes his world order. Home is also a mediator between intimacy
and public life. In their influential book 'Community and Privacy 7 of
1963, Christopher Alexander and Serge Chermayeff identified six spatial
mechanisms between the polarities of private and public.

The image of home

Before I reached high-school age, my family moved several times due to

my father's job and, consequently, I lived in seven different houses
during my childhood. In addition, I spent my childhood summers and
most of the war in my farmer grandfather's house. Regardless of having
lived in eight houses, I have only had one experiential home in my
childhood; my experiential home seems to have travelled with me and
been constantly transformed to new physical shapes as we moved.

I cannot recall the exact architectural shape or layout of any of the eight
houses. But I do recall vividly the sense of home, the feeling of returning
home from a skiing trip in the darkness of a cold winter evening. The
experienee of home is never stronger than when seeing the windows of
the house lit in the dark winter landscape and sensing the invitation of
warmth warming your frozen limbs. 'Light in the window of the home is a
waiting light' 8, as Bachelard has observed. The home has a soul. I
cannot recall the shape of the front door of my grandfather's house
either, but I can still sense the warmth and odour of air flowing against
my face as I open the door.

In an essay entitled 'The Geometry of Feeling' (1985) 9, I have dealt

with the properties of lived space as compared to common notions of
architecture. It seems to me that emotions deriving from built form and
space arise from distinct confrontations between man and space. The
emotional impact is related to an act, not an object or a visual or figural
element. The phenomenology of arehitecture is founded on verbs rather
than nouns. The approaching of the house, not the facade, the act of
entering, not the door; the act of looking out of the window, not the
window itself; or the act of gathering around rather than the hearth or
the table as such seem to trigger our strongest emotions.

Nostalgia of home

I also remember the sadness and secret threat of leaving the home as
we moved to another town. The greatest tragedy was the fear of facing
an unknown future and losing one's childhood friends.

It is clear that the experience of home consists of and integrates an

incredible array of mental dimensions from that of nationality and being
subject to a specific culture to those of unconscious desires and fears.
No wonder sociologists have found out that the sorrow for a lost home
among slum residents is very similar to the mourning a lost relative.
There is a strange melancholy in an abandoned home or a demolished
apartment house that reveals traces and scars of intimate lives to the
public gaze on its crumbling walls. It is touching to come across the
remains of foundations or the hearth of a ruined or burnt house, half
buried in the forest grass. The tenderness of the experienee results from
the fact that we do not imagine the house, but the home, life and faith of
its members.

Andrej Tarkovsky's film 'Nostalgia' is a touching record of the loss of and

grievance for home 10. It is a film about the nostalgia for an absent
home that is typical of Russian sentiment from the times of Dostojevsky
and Gogol to Tarkovsky. Throughout the film the central figure, the poet
Andrej Gorchakov, keeps fingering the keys to his home in Russia in the
pocket of his overcoat as an unconscious reflection of his longing for
home. All of Tarkovsky's films, in fact, seem to deal with nostalgia for
the absent domicile 11.

In the Communist state, home turned from a refuge into a place of

surveillance, a concentration camp. And home turned into a mystical
dream that many Russian artists have described in their works.

Home and identity

The interdependence of identity and context is so strong that

psychologists speak of a 'situational personality'. The notion has been
conceived on the basis of the observation that the behaviour of an
individual varies more under different conditions than the behaviour of
different individuals under the same conditions.

The psycho-linguistic studies of the Norwegian born Finn, Frode

Strömnes, have disclosed out further dimensions in the interdependence
of psyche and context. In his research on imagery as the basis of
linguistic operations, he has revealed that even language conditions our
conception and utilization of space 12. Consequently our concept of
home is founded in language; our first home is in the domicile of our
mother tongue. And language is strongly tied up with our bodily
existence, the unconscious geometry of our language articulates our
being in the world.

Home is a projection and basis of identity, not only of an individual but

also of the family. But homes, the mere secrecy of private lives
concealed from the public eye, also structure social life. Homes delineate
the realms of intimacy and public life. It is frustrating to he forced to live
in a space that we cannot recognize or mark as our personal territory.
An anonymous hotel room is immediately personalized and taken into
possession by subtly marking the territory -laying out clothes, books,
objects, opening the bed, ete. The minimum home of the child or a
primitive is the mascot or the personal idol that gives a sense of safety
and normality. My five-year-old daughter cannot go anywhere without
her scratching pillow, my American architect assistant travelled to
Finland with four books (Joyce's Ulysses, T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets and
two books on American poetry, by the way), while an American architect
woman friend travels with her set of kitchen knives, which are her
magical instruments for recreating a sense of home.
 11 12
The intimacy of home
11 René Magritte: The Month of the Grape 12 Edward Hopper: Eleven A.M., 1926.
Harvest, 1959, Private Collection, Paris. Hirschhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden,
Smithsonian Institute, Washington, D.C.

Intimacy and home

We have private and social personalities and home is the realm of the
former. Home is the place where we hide our secrets and express our
private selves. Home is our place of resting and dreaming in safety. More
precisely, the role of home as delineator or mediator between the realms
of public and private, the transparency of the home as it were, varies
greatly. There are ways of life in which home has become a public
showcase and the public gaze penetrates the secrecy of home.

Generally, however, the intimacy of home is almost a taboo in our

culture. We have a feeling of guilt and embarrassment if we, for some
reason, are obliged to enter someone's home uninvited when the
occupant is not at home. To see an unattended home is the same as
seeing its dweller naked or in his most intimate situation.

In his Notebooks of'Malte Laurids Brigge', Rainer Maria Rilke gives a

powerful description of the marks of intimacy, the lives in a house that
had already been demolished but which could still he seen in traces left
on the wall of its neighbouring building. These traces of life enabled
Brigge to recreate his own past. Rilke describes with staggering force
how life penetrates dead matter; the history of life can he traced in the
minutest fragment of the dwelling.

"But the walls themselves were the most unforgettable. The stubborn life
of these rooms had not allowed itself to be trampled out. It was still
there; it clung to the nails that had been left in the walls; it found a
resting-place on the remaining handbreadth of flooring; it squatted
beneath the corner beams where a little bit of space remained. One
could see it in the colours which it had slowly changed, year by year:
blue into a mouldy green, green into grey, and yellow into a stale, drab,
weary white. But it was also in the places that had kept fresher, behind
the mirrors, the pictures, and the wardrobes; for it bad outlined their
contours over and over again, and had been with cobwebs and dust even
in these hidden retreats that now lay uncovered. It was in every bare,
flayed streak of surface, it was in the blisters the dampness had raised
at the edges of the wallpapers; it floated in the torn-off shreds, and
sweated out of the long-standing spots of filth. And from these walls
once blue, and green and yellow, framed by the tracks of the disturbed
partitions, the breath of these lives came forth - the clammy, stuggish,
fusty breath, which no wind had yet scattered. There were the midday
meals and the sicknesses and the exhalations and the smoke of years,
and the stale breath of mouths, and the oily odour of perspiring feet.
There were the pungent tang of urine and the stench of burning soot and
the grey reek on potatoes, and the heavy, sickly fumes of rancid grease.
The sweetish, lingering smell of neglected infants was there, and the
smell of frightened children who go to school, and the stuffiness of the
beds of nubile youths. 13

I apologize for the lengthy quote, but I wanted to point out how life
penetrates verbal images of a great poem as compared to the sterilized
images of contemporary architecture.

In its emotional power, Rilke's description reminds one of Heidegger's

famous description of the epic message of van Gogh's Peasant's shoes.
14 The later questioning of the relevance of Heidegger's interpretation
by Meyer Shapiro does not diminish the poetic power of his description:
he has pointed out ihat van Gogh actually painted his own shoes and,
besides, he did the painting during his short stay in Paris. What is
important, however, is the artist's extraordinary dense imagery that
reflects an authentic form of life.

In the intimate polarity, Bachelard points out a bodily experience of the

home: 'Indeed, in our houses we have nooks and corners in which we
like to curl up comfortably. To curl up belongs to the phenomenology of
the verb to inhabit, and only those who have learned to do so can
inhabit with intensity' 15.

The fascination of the world of personal intimacy is so great that I recall

the AD Magazine in the late 1960s having reported on a minute theatre
in New York where the audience was watching through a one-directional
mirror the daily life of a normal American farnily living in a rented flat
unaware of being on stage. The theatre was open 24 hours a day and
continuously sold out until it was closed by the authorities as inhuman.

The recent four-volume book entitled 'A History of Private life 16 traces
the evolution of the private realm from pagan Rome to the Great War on
its nearly 2800 pages and makes the reader understand the cultural
relativism of even the most personal and intimate life. Not much can he
taken as given in human reality.

Ingredients of human life

Home seems to consist of three types of mental or symbolic element:

elements which have their foundation in the deep unconscious bio-
cultural level (entry, hearth) elements that are related to the inhabitant's
personal life and identity (memorabilia, inherited objects of the family);
and social symbols intended to give certain images and messages to
outsiders (signs of wealth, education, social identity, etc.).

It should be clear by now that the structuring of home as a lived-in

institution differs from the principles of architecture. The house is
composed by the architect as a system of spatial hierarchies and
dynamics, structure, light, colour, etc., whereas home is structured
around a few foci consisting of distinct functions and objects. The
following types of elements may function as foci of behaviour and
symbolization: front (front yard, facade, the urban setup), entry,
window, hearth, stove, table, cupboard, bath, bookcase, television,
furniture, family treasures, memorabilia.

The poetry of the wardrope

The meaning of each element can be phenomenologically analysed.

Bachelard's analysis of the essential task of drawers, tupboards and
wardrobes in our mental imagery sets an inspiring example. He gives
these objects - rarely considered as having architectural significance - an
impressive role in the world of fantasy and daydream. 'In the wardrobe
there exists a center of order that protects the entire house against
uncurbed disorder', he writes 17.

Wardrobes, cupboards and drawers represent the functions of putting

away and taking out, storing and remembering. The inside of a cupboard
is an intimate and secret space, and it is not supposed to he opened by
just anybody. Little boxes and caskets are hiding places for intimate
secrets and as such are of significance for our imagination. Our
imagination fills out compartments of rooms and buildings with
memories and turns them into our own personal territories. We have just
as great a need to keep secrets as we have to reveal, know and
understand them. One of the reasons why contemporary houses and
cities are so alienating is that they do not contain secrets; their structure
and contents are conceived at a single glance. Just compare the
labyrinthine secrets of an old medieval town or any old house, which
stimulate our imagination and fill it with expectation and excitement,
with the transparent emptiness of our new cityscape and blocks of flats.

In his book 'One-Dirnensional Man 18, Herbert Marcuse considers that

buildings of our time are unerotic compared with tbe erotic imagery
conjured up by an environment of nature or traditional buildings. One
can compare, for instance, the fantasies provoked by a meadow outside
ancient town walls or an old attic with the numbing noman's-land of a
new housing area or the anonymity of a flat cramped between concreto
walls and floors. Marcuse believes that the flagrant and violent sexuality
of our time is a result of the growing lack of erotic imagery in the
environment.

13 14
 The space and image of fire
13 Teun Hocks: Untitled (Man at Fire), 1990. 14 Antonio Gaudi: Casa Baltiló 1904-06.

Hearth and fire

The significance of hearth or stove for the sense of home is self-evident.

The image of fire in the home combines the most arehaic with the most
present. The power of the symbolism of the hearth is based on its
capacity to fuse archaic images of the life-supporting fire of the
primitive, experiences of personal comfort and symbols of togetherness
and social status.

Maurice Vlaminck, the Fauve painter, has written: 'The well-being I feel,
seated in front of my fire, while bad weather rages out-of-doors, is
entirely animal. A rat in its hole, a rabbit in its burrow, cows in the
stable, must all feel the same contentment that I feel. 19

The fireplace is a bourgeois symbol of the separation of fire for pleasure

from the fire for preparing food, whereas the symbolisrn of the stove has
peasantlike connotations. Having spent my childhood in a farmer's
home, I can still vividly recall the role of the stove in structuring family
life, in marking the rhythm of the day and in defining the male and
female roles.

The power of the image of fire is so vivid that hearths are often built as
sole symbols in the form of mere mantles without any possibility of
actual fire. The image of the hearth also has immediate erotic
connotations. No wonder that Lewis Mumford discusses the influence of
the invention of the oven on sexual behaviour in his book 'The Culture of
the City'.

In the modern home the hearth has become flattened to an object with a
distant and decorative lunetion. Fire itself has been tamed and turned
into a framed picture devoid of its essential task to give warmth. We
could speak of a cold fire of the modern home.

15 16
The table in focus
15 The Holy Grail appears to the knights 16 Deric Bouts: Meal at Simon's house
of the round table, 14th century. mid-15th century.
 Functions of the table

The structuring function and symbolic role of the table have also largely
been lost to contemporary architecture. The significance of the table,
however, is powerfully expressed in painting and poetry. Again, I vividly
recall the heavy, unpainted wooden table of my farmer grandfather. The
retdembrance of the table is stronger than that of the room itself.
Everyone had his or her place at the table, my grandfather sitting at the
inner end. The opposite end of the long table, closer to the entrance,
was left empty and was occupied only by the occasional guest. The table
was the stage for eating, sewing, playing, doing homework, socializing
with neighbours and strangers, ete. The table was the organizing centre
of the farmer's house. The table marked the difference between weekday
and Sunday, working day and feast day.

We could similarly and extensively survey other focusing images of the

home, but we do not have the space on time on this occasion.

17 18
The bed as space and as
horisontal element
17 Renaissance heds from Milan about 1540. 18 Unidentified illustration.

Dilution of images of home

I simply want to add a remark on the dilution of the image of bed from a
miniature house, a house within a house, symbolizing privacy to a mere
neutral horizontal plane, a stage of privacy, as it were. This makes one
recall Bachelard's observation that the house, and, consequently, our
lives have lost their vertical dimension and become mere horizontality
20. Again, innumerous images in historical paintings and drawings reveal
the essence of the bed.

A less self-evident but utterly poetic and essential experience of home is

the window and, in particular, the act of looking out of the window of the
home at the yard or the garden. Home is particularly strongly felt when
you look out from its enclosed privacy.

The tendency of contemporary architecture to use glass walls eliminates

the window as a framing and rationing device and weakens the essential
tension between the home and the world.
The ontology of the door has been lost in the same way.

Lack of concreteness

I live in an attic flat under a tin roof. The strongest and most pleasurable
experience of home occurs during a heavy storm when rain beats
against the of roof, magnifying the feeling of warmth and protection.

At the same time the beating of rain just a foot away from my skin puts
me in direct contact with primal elements. But these sensations are lost
to the dweller of the standard flat.

Cooking by fire is immensely satisfying because one can experience a

primal causality between the fire and the hearth. Again, this causality is
lost with the electric stove or even more so with the microwave.

In the contemporary home the function of the hearth has been usurped
by television. Both seem to he foci the of social gathering and individual
concentration, but the difference in quality is, however, decisive. The fire
links us to our unconscious memory, to the archaeology of images. Fire
is a primal image, and it the reminds us of the primary causality of the
physical world. At the same time that the flames stimulate meditative
dreaming, they reinforce our sense of reality.

The television alienates us from a sense of causality and transports us

into a dream world which weakens our sense of reality, of ourself and
the ethic essence of togetherness. Instead of promoting togetherness,
television forces isolation and privatization. The most shocking
experience of the negative impact of television was the Gulf War, which
was telecast in real time around the globe as dramatized entertainment.

An analysis of television as a structuring device of the contemporary

home is, of course, essential for the theme of this Symposium, but I do
not have time to elaborate on it. And, I am sure, it will he dealt with in
other presentations.

The overall weakening of the sense of causality threatens modern life.

The menace represented by our brave new world lies in its lack of
concreteness. Even fear is acceptable as long as it has its
understandable cause or it symbolizes something, and as long as it is not
cloaked in apparent order and wellbeing. The irrational fear in our cities
grows out of the meaninglessness of the environment to our reason and
its incomprehensibility to our senses. We are losing the primary causality
in our sensory experience of the world.

'Symptoms (of an illness) are, in fact, degraded symbols, degraded by

the reductive fallacy of the ego. Symptoms are intolerable precisely
because they are meaningless. Almost any difficulty can be borne if we
can discern its meaning. It is meaninglessness which is the greatest
threat to humanity', writes psychologist Edward Edinger 21.

This meaninglessness, a hypnotizing emptiness and absence of locality

and focus, the existential vacuum, has become a recurring motif of
contemporary art. It is alarming, indeed, that the favourite theme of art
today is the total isolation of man disrobed of all signs of individual
identity and human dignity.

Architecture of tolerance

If architecture and home are conflicting notions, as it seems, what then

is the architect's margin of facilitating 'homecoming' that Aldo van Eyck
has so emphatically demanded.

In my view, architecture can either tolerate and encourage

personalization or stifle it. There is an architecture of accommodation
and an architecture of rejection. The first one facilitates reconciliation,
the second attempts to impose by its untouchable order. The first is
based on images that are deeply rooted in our common memory, that is,
in the phenomenologically authentie ground of architecture. The second
manipulates images, striking and fashionable, perhaps, but which do not
incorporate the personal identity, memories and dreams of the
inhabitant. The second attitude may create architecturally more
imposing houses, but the first provides the condition of homecoming.

Furthermore, there is a significant difference in how and to what extent

an architectural design can allow and absorb aesthetic deviation without
resulting in undesirable conflict. The architecture and furniture design of
Alvar Aalto are an encouraging example of design, which has a great
aesthetic tolerance, yet, it is artistically uncompromising.

The virtue of idealization

My acknowledgenient of a conflict between architecture and the intrinsic

requirements of home could, perhaps, be interpreted as support for the
view that the architect should faithfully fulfill the explicit requirements
and desires of the client. I want to say very firmly that I do not believe
in such a populist view. Uncritical acceptance of the client's brief only
leads to sentimental kitsch; the architect's responsibility is to penetrate
the surface of what is most often a commercially, socially and
momentarily conditioned desire.

The authentic artist and architect consciously or unknowingly engage in

an ideal world. Art and exhilarating architecture are lost at the point at
which this vision of and aspiration for an ideal is lost. In my view, only
the architect, who creates his ideal client as he designs can create
houses and homes that give mankind hope and direction instead of mere
bourgeois satisfaction. Without Frank Lloyd Wright's 'Fallingwater', Gerrit
Rietveld's 'Schöder House', Le Corbusier's 'Villa Savoye', Pierre
Chareau's 'Glass House' and Alvar Aalto's 'Villa Mairea' our
understanding of modernity, and of ourselves, would be considerably
weaker than now. it is when these masterpieces concretize the
possibilities of human habitat.
19 20
Coming home
19 Interior of a Shaker-house. 20 Henry Matisse: Goldfish
Hancock, Massachusetts. (Les poissons rouges), 1912.

Feasibility of a homecoming

Authentic architecture is always about life; man's existential expcrience

is the prime subject matter of the art of building. To a certain degree,
great architecture is also always about architecture itself, about the rules
and boundaries of the discipline itself. But today's architecture seems to
have abandoned life entirely and turned into a pure architectural
fabrication.

Authentic architecture represents and reflects a way of life, an image of

life. It is thought provoking that today's buildings appear empty instead;
they do not seem to represent any real and authentic way of life.
Today's architectural avant-garde has delibetately rejected the notion of
home. 'Architecture must dislocate ... without destroying its own being,
while a house today must still shelter, it does not need to symbolize or
romanticize its sheltering function, to the contrary: such symbols are
today meaningless and merely nostalgia, declared Peter Eisenman in an
interview some years ago 22.

Beyond the rejection of issues of domicile, today's avant-garde

architecture has neglected problems of mass-housing, which were a core
issue of the Modern project. Our post-historical era has ended historical
narratives, the notion of progress and a view of future. This loss of
horizon and sense of purpose, and shortening of perspective have turned
architecture away from images of reality and life into an autistic and
self-referential engagement with its own structures. At the same time
architecture has distanced itself from other-sense realms and become a
purely retinal artform.

I may believe in groundless nostalgia, but I still believe in the feasibility

of an architecture of reconciliation, an architecture that can mediate
'man's homecoming'. Architecture can still provide houses that enable us
to live with dignity. And, we still need houses that reinforce our sense of
human reality and the essential hierarchies of life.

The Consept of Home: An Interdiciplinary View -symposium at the

University of Trondheim, 21-23 August 1992.
REFERENCES

1 Alvar Aalto: Band I 1922-1962. Les Editions

d'Architecture Artemis, Zurich 1963, p. 108.

2 Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space. Beacon Press,

Boston 1969, p. 25-26.

3 ibid, p. XXIV

4 Jean-Paul Sartre, What is Literature? Peter Smith,

Gloucester, Mass., 1978, p. 4.

5 Bachelard, op. cit., p. 17.

6 Bachelard, op, cit., p. 46,

7 Christopher Alexander, Serge Chermayeff, Community

and Privacy. Doubleday & Company, Garden City, New
York, 1963.

8 Bachelard, op. cit., p. 34,

9 Juhani Pallasmaa, The Geometry of Feeling: a look at

the phenomenology of architecture. Arkkitehti 3/1985,
Helsinki, pp. 44-49. (English translation, pp. 98-100.)

10 Juhani Pallasmaa, Space and Image in Andrej

Tarkovsky's Hostalghia. Focus Yearbook of the Faculty of
Architecture, Helsinki University of Technology, Helsinki
1992, pp. 13-14,
and; Anders Olofsson, Nostalgia, Tanken på en Hemkonst
(ed. Magnus Bergh & Birgitta Munkhammar), Alfa Beta
Bokförlag, Stockholm 1986, p, 150.

11 Interview of Paola Volkova by Mikael Fränti in

Helsingin Sanomat 9.12.1992, p. D 10.

12 for instance:
Frode Strömnes, A New Physics of Inner Worlds. Institute
of Social Science, University of Tromsö, 1976.
Frode Strömnes, On the Architecture of Thought. Abacus,
Yearbook of the Museum of Finnish Architecture. Helsinki,
1981, pp. 7-29.
Frode Strömnes, The Externalized Image. A study
showing differences correlating with language structure
between pictorial structure in Ural-Altaic and Indo-
European filmed versions of the same plays. Reports from
the Plannign and Research Department, The Finnish
Broadcasting Company, No 21/1982, Helsinki.
13 Quoted in Robert Jan van Pelt, Letter from Koblenz,
The Architectural thesis: Waterloo Journal of Architecture,
Waterloo 1992, pp. 113-114.

14 Martin Heidegger, The Origin of the Work of Art, in

Basic Writings. Harper & Row, New York, 1977, p. 163.

15 Bachelard, op. cit., p. XXXIV

16 A History of Private Life, Volumes I-IV (Phillippe Ariés

and Georges Duby, general editors), Harvard University
Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1987.

17 op. cit., p. 79.

18 Herbert Marcuse, One Dimensional Man. Beacon

Press, Boston, 1964.

19 Bachelard, op, cit., p. 91.

20 Bachelard, op, cit., p. 27.

21 Edward Edinger, Ego and Archetype, Baltimore 1973.

22 Peter Eisenman, En Samtal med Carsten Juel-

Christiansen, Skala 12/1987.

PICTURE SOURCES

1 Peter Gössel, Gabriele Lenthäuser, Architecture in the

Twentieth Century, Taschen, Köln 1991.

2 Rolf Günter Renner, Eduard Hopper 1882-1967.

Benedikt Taschen 1991,

3 Ingo F. Walther / Rainer Metzger, Vincent van Gogh:

L'Oeuvre complete-peinture, Benedikt Taschen, Köln
1990.

4 Bauhaus, Stuttgartin ulkomaisten kulttuurisuhteiden

instituutin julkaisu, Stuttgart 1974.

5 Celebrity Homes II (ed. Paige Rense). The Knapp

Press, Los Angeles 1981.

7 A. M. Hammacher, Magritte. Harry N, Abrams, Inc.

New York 1985.

11 Jacques Meuris, Magritte. Artabras Publishers, New

York 1987.
 12 Robert Hobbs, Edward Hopper, Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
Publishers, New York 1987.

13 Ignasi Solà-Morales, Gaudi. Rizzoli, New York 1983.

14 Art in America, New York, July 1992, p.48.

15 Encyclopedia of World Mythology. Octopus Book,

London 1975.

16 Albert Châtelet, Early Dutch Painting: Painting in the

northern Netherlands in the fifteenth century. Montreaux,
Lausanne 1980.

17 Peter Thornton, The Italian Renaissance Interior

1400-1600. Harry N. Abrams, New York 1991.

19 Amy Stechler Burns & Ken Burns, The Shakers:

Hands to Work, Hearts te God. An Aperture Book, New
York 1987.

20 John Elderfield, Henry Matisse: A Retrospective. The

Museum of Modern Art, New York 1992.

©A R K K I T E H T I -
FINNISH ARCHITECTURAL REVIEW 1 / 1994

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