By Jesenko Tesan

Architecture and war are not incompatible. Architecture is war. War is architecture. I am at war with my time, with history, with all authority that resides in fixed and frightened forms.

—Lebbeus Woods

War destroys the home and family. Without the home there is not much left of the family. Without family one lives in liminal permanence. My grandmother used to say, to paraphrase her, that “the kitchen is the centre of past, present and future.” All of that – environment, house, things in the house and we – exists entangled into a poetic single form to design familiar experience or what is called: home. Yet, what is home? Is it just architecture or that familiar experience that used to dwell in those “old” houses? What does it mean for the social body? Experience, is it the feeling of home where you have already been and you are familiar with? Is it a point of return at any time you desire? Or is it perhaps a pure imagination? (E)motion that dwells in my mind as I climb the wooden stairs which creak below my feet whilst hearing my babushka’s velvety voice: “wear slippers, floors are cold” (see image 1). Can architecture describe and/or (re)present the single moment when war impacts both humans and environments? It seems that in the certain systems of architecture, as Lebbeus Woods presents, lies an infectious impulse? — a powerful antidote against the destructions caused by wars.

image source: http://www.balkanarchitecture.org/bosnia/bosnia.php

War and Architecture

The term vernacular mindset, or vernacular architecture, I define as part of a large experience of a space that feels lived in. If one looks at the typical Balkan vernacular architecture, the same way Le Corbusier did in his first book, The Journey to the East, one can detect following era: the family house as a threshold of time frozen in space. Inside there is warmth and most of the time very frugal charm, but reassuring space where familiar experience dwells.

As a boy and young man, I grew up in one of those vernacular dwellings. I ate and drunk out of those primitive art objects Jeanneret (Le Corbusier) describes in his book and are on display in Heidi House in The Pavilion Le Corbusier in Zurich (see photo 2). This experience to me was like having two eyes, mouth and a nose on human face. Nothing special about it. But my babushka (grandmother) thought of them very differently. These objects, things, staff, just like the house, according to her, were not just static objects scattered about the house. They were part of living mind entangled in constant relations to-all-of-us. She used to greet the house and talk to those vases. The flowers in the house were always happy. Sometimes even the vases seemed to smile. But I could never fully understand what she was seeing in those objects, or what kind of mind or “growth metabolism” was in them?

Le Corbusier Pavilion , Zurich image credit: Roland zh

Wars and/or other major (natural) catastrophes leave behind ruins. In 2003 I returned to Sarajevo, and visited other parts of the former Yugoslavia republics. What I witnessed was that both infrastructure and the society were on the brink of collapse, decaying or unloved. The kitchens were destroyed and families were separated. The cloud of liminality and apathy was everywhere and still today in 2020 it persists in the majority of the Balkan peninsula. Understandably the apathy and decline are attributable to the massive destructions during the ‘90s war (see photo 3). Yet, post-conflict architecture, art and design may play a crucial role in the healing processes. Physical liminal spaces, as the ruin of Mostar bridge, are concomitant with spaces of liminality in our mental states.

ruins of the original Mostar bridge image credit: Npatm

Yet, what is liminality and why is it important for this work? Liminality in this context means in-between or transitional moment that has been incarnated into the architecture for the purposes of healing process. Liminality can be both a part of mind-state but also a particular space/place or experience. Intellectuals emphasise liminality as transitory experience (Van Gennep Arnold. The Rites of Passage. (2013, 20-21). However, liminality as experience, physical and non-physical liminal state, can be perceived also as the real-life moments (Horvath, 2015; Szakolczai, 2009; Tesan, 2017, 2018; Thomassen, 2012; Turner,1967). The importance is that this work presents the intersection of the term liminality with sociology, architecture and art in the context of combating war (e)motions.

Liminality which normally would stop its spinning wheel once society, or individual, exits the period of transition, but that is not always the case. As I argued in my other works, in some post conflict regions war seems to have transformed into the institutionalized “permanent liminality.” Permanent liminality, a concept associated most notably with Agnes Horvath and Szakolczai Arpad, but as I argue when applied in the case of post-conflict transformative experiences it seems to show that in a certain place it always increases, thus inevitably reducing individual’s and societal order. This paradox of liminal permanence is a force that is shaping both post-war individuals’ behaviour, societies, its architecture, and the infrastructures. Yet, can specific architecture and/or art depict the liminal non-physical mental state in order to help recognise and heal torment of, for instance, forcefully leaving behind a house or loved ones? To what extent do Lebbeus Woods’s “beautiful scars” – liminal ruins – serve as an antidote to catastrophic events? The shortest answer would be: Yes.

As sociologist, I see architecture, art and design in the same way architect Lebbeus Woods does; namely, as an important healing technology which one cannot ignore. One needs to acknowledge it and argue that careful urban space (infrastructure) planning would lead to the healing permanence. Structures, like those presented by Lebbeus Woods, have critical dimension in which architecture grows and is responsive to healing processes thence architecture is actor and acts as medicine: an antidote against liminal machine.

Post-war scars

Arguing post-war buildings in Sarajevo, and in other parts of the Balkans, as scarred ruins is not a popular trend. Acknowledging the existence of the very scar would be already positive step towards the healing process. That some war damaged buildings and spaces will always move towards higher notion of apathy and liminality also means architecture and design could harvest this “scar” (e)motion in order to produce healing structures.

Tapping into the very notion of liminality, Lebbeus Woods’s structures are a necessary sequence in the process of understanding the becoming of medicine-like-structure (see photo 4, 5). Structure that entangles interactions between its micro and macro surrounding thus affecting and effecting liminal transformative experiences both in individual’s war-learned-behaviour and the growing social realm.

In addition to the common conflict resolution mechanism such as federalism, asymmetric federalism, consociation, and bitter secession, Woods’s architecture and designs offer a balancing antidote to the destructions caused by the wars (see movie Sarajevo 1993 Bullets dancing about my head). Sarajevo city project, in particular so called Marijin Dvor zone, was Woods’s attempt to help design the lasting healing process. Transformation of the scarred city in which the architecture and design in unison represents a powerful healing machine. Healing (space) method as Woods argues would offer an organic and critical imperative towards conflict resolution (see photos 7 and 9). His works are meant to be used in everyday life as healing and “living machines,” to tap in Le Corbusier’s vocabulary. Thus, from a sociological point of view Woods’s method transforms war (e)motions into healing functions. In his words there are certain “guiding principles” towards balancing act thence healing spaces:

“ (t)he First Principle: Restore what has been lost to its pre-war condition. The idea is to restore ‘normalcy,’ where the normal is the way of living lost as a result of the war. The idea considers the war as only an interruption of an ongoing flow of the normal. The Second Principle: Demolish the damaged and destroyed buildings and build something entirely new. This ‘new’ could be something radically different from what existed before, or only an updated version of the lost pre-war normal. Its application is very expensive financially, at the least (…) Third Principle: The post-war city must create the new from the damaged old. Many of the buildings in the war-damaged city are relatively salvageable, and because the finances of individuals and remaining institutions have been depleted by war and its privations, that salvageable building stock must be used to build the ‘new’ city. And because the new ways of living will not be the same as the old, the reconstruction of old buildings must enable new ways and ideas of living. The familiar old must be transformed, by conscious intention and design, into the unfamiliar new” (see War and Architecture: Three Principles)

Woods exposes the scars in order to create the short, but powerful, infectious interaction almost like koan whilst designing for endless healing possibilities. The onus is on designer’s (re-reconstructive) principle or as he says: “the familiar old must be transformed, by conscious intention and design, into the unfamiliar new.” Woods was not concerned in healing process via masking the scars. His idea comes very close to Chinese and Japanese Taoists way in dealing with the language problem; namely, “koan.” Koan is system of nonsensical riddles used by Zen masters to transmit teachings. (Due to the practical constrains of this work the koan system is left for the next study.) Like Haiku poems koans system aims to shock the reader’s mind, in this case the observer is arrested by Woods’s healing architecture in order to open up his/hers mind into “unfamiliar new.”

Although his works (only) appear inflexible, static, mechanic and inadaptive, they are very sustainable and responsive vehicles. Woods’s structures, almost like koan system and DaDa art, surrealist, “make-no-sense” but in it lies an information or “infections” element offering respect to scars. The responsiveness in Woods’s vehicles is clearly vivid in the designs that willingly aim to change not just human behaviour but the environment as well. The very presence of Woods’s koan design, in my view, in the buildings is actually its enormous potential. Abused, scarred and unloved places can be re-reused for the purposes of harvesting the healing and again loving places.

Beginning from the end rather than starting de nuovo.

Thinking in terms of (im)permanence, scars and starting from the very end in mind it might actually be a better way for the post-war ruins to liberate themselves from the grip of permanent liminality in the architecture. This is why I argue that hasty rebuilding of the old Mostar bridge was a mistake (see photo 8). The reconstruction should have been incremental and part of healing dispositional processes. Unlike the ruin of the old bridge (see photo 3), the new bridge is weak in the historic trauma necessary for the Promethean impulse to arise for the healing of the scars.

It is precisely this infectious work of art that is staring into once face via preserved scars. It delivers kenosis for the injured souls and society. This is why his structures should be built on small but also on the large scale in post-conflict spaces.

Combating the (e)motions of war

Going back to the beginning of the text and the questions concerning architecture as constructed forms and its healing impact on the humans and environment. Looking at these forms through Woods’s specs one can argue that these structures are manmade forms and as such possess hidden dynamic and transitory energy. In his proposal for the transformation of Sarajevo city there is something in his architecture’s form that is not yet manifested. The active potential – in-formation – comes into being only when these structures are used. They are like unfolding algorithms which lead to a solution whilst cannot be separated from the space surrounding them. (Similar to this approach can be found in Keller Easterling’s notion on “medium design” though her argument lacking the aspects on combating war (e)motions via architecture/design.) Woods’s architecture contains in itself necessary information for the healing process and as such determines the structure of the space (see photo 10). They are not isolated edifice, but should be regarded as condensed information-flow-system in a continues healing space.

The transformation of war-torn Sarajevo city, and other post-war regions, according to his vision, would have caused a very interesting phenomenon. Phenomenon in which wounded souls and scarred bodies would be reminded of the grotesque war. Yet art, design and architecture as medicine would disposition war (e)motions whilst helping transition into healing experiences, something what Le Corbusier touched upon in his “Modular” concept, though from a sociological point of view, fundamentally different from Woods’s outcome. That connection gives the option to transform and change from inflicting pain to nourishing and respecting the scars.

The scar for Woods, and I concur, is an important caesura on every building as they are on human’s flesh and bones. Scars demand respect and constant involvement via non-binary relationship: “I” and “My scar” and “You” and “Our” surrounding that is society. Scars remind there has been a breakdown in the relationship between “Us.” The true work of art, as Lev Tolstoy would argue, is infectious. By inviting for human contact true architecture should be infectious. The infectious movement is from a state of inflicting pain to “You” to the respect and harmony between “Us.” Because of scars not despite them single “I” can change into simple respect of “We” thence combat the permanence of (e)-motions of war.

Endnotes

Lebbeus Woods, War and Architecture (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1993)
Lebbeus Woods, “Centricity,” Places, Vol. 5, No. 3 (Summer 1988)
Lebbeus Woods, Radical Reconstruction (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1997)

TRANSFORMATIVE ARCHITECTURE: COMBATING THE (E)MOTIONS OF WAR

FAUSTIAN BARGAIN