Feeling the spaces

When I was in architecture school, lo these many years ago, we would often try to focus on the feeling of a space. Some spaces are bright and inviting, others moody and oppressive. Some spaces have high content value, seeming to pack a full sensory overload into every vista. Others are simple, clean, and unadorned. Some spaces only make sense in context. Other spaces are so completely dominated by a particular feature that it becomes the Thing - that One Thing that exists in the space. Spaces can be an embrace, pulling you in, making you comfortable, and inducing you to stay. Others are all about movement, drawing you onward and through, while at the same time repelling you.

Truly, the only wasted space is that which is neglected. But even those can have a kind of beauty.

I recently read this article:

http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20140130-can-buildings-be-emotional

It's an interesting read, so I'll recommend you actually follow the link if you're so inclined. The images really lend credence to the story, and I don't have the ability to add those images here.

The question is intriguing. Some spaces are imbued with a mystical sense of grandeur because they are unique, powerful, or have features that make them awe inspiring. The Chinese and other Asian cultures try to quantify this power of space or geography and call it Feng Shui. They use a series of natural features that exist in a landscape or space to try to tap into the natural energy of the site, locating and orienting the buildings such that this energy is maximized and harnessed. Having spent some time in Asia and experiencing this first-hand, it is very difficult to pass it off as a pseudo science or random chance. It's lovely and powerful and real, if nebulous and inexplicable.

Maybe that's a limitation of our language, more than a lack of understanding. A problem with the tongue not being able to express what is in the soul, in the heart and in the mind. This does happen.

In the West, we tend to be more concerned about things that can be controlled, manipulating our spaces and making each experience into a kind of stage setting that produces an artificial construct. It is effective, but it feels a cheap imitation of what nature can do with a site.

This is why I like spaces that are designed with a balance of these disparate elements in mind. We work to make spaces lovely and beautiful, understanding the context in which they're set without suborning the existing feel of the land. Indeed, architecture is best when it touches as lightly as possible the land on which it rests.

Building spaces is an artificial and necessarily initially destructive process. We scrape off earth to expose the bedrock below, drive piles deep to provide security and stability, and create level spaces that conform to human needs and desires. This is not an inherently bad thing, but it is something that should be considered with care and patience and respect.

In this way, one can retain the feel of a place. And that's really the vital, essential part of space creation.