Sunday, March 28, 2010

Shadows and Light

It was difficult separating my interest in architecture from Arnheim’s chapter of Light, since light and shadows play such a significant part in the experience of architecture. And I find it interesting that Arnheim distinctly notes that while light is prominent in causes of visual perception, light is “more than just the physical cause of what we see…it is the most fundamental and powerful of human experiences.” And this is precisely where light fits into architecture—it is not simply an object, although the unveiling aspect of light does reveal a surfacing of texture, depth, and form of a space, but foremost it is towards an experience. It is fascinating how the energy of a space can become diminished or sustained through the blending of light and shadows and we feel it perhaps most poignantly in our childhood homes. For example, the light which marks the interior of the home is simultaneously cozy and remote which is in part due to the contrasting darkness. Void and presence, interior and exterior, become part of the bodily experience and through this blending of light, a room is transformed into an embodied, sensory place. Demonstrating quite clearly this ‘phenomenon’ is the opening pages of Proust’s Swann’s Way, in which the narrator is desperately trying to fall asleep against the disorientating effects of shadows, “ But my sadness was only increased by this since the mere change in lighting destroyed the familiarity which my bedroom had acquired for me (9).” The lighting of homes offers profound experiences and I find it truly uncanny walking in residential neighborhoods at night when rooms becomes visible through illumination. Not only do you see the depth and texture of a room but you see where the shadows creep and fall.

But what happens when we lose our confidence in the mystery and depth of shadows? Like the sculpture Arnheim noted in the modern museum galleries, architectural spaces also become “murdered” by a flooding of illumination. Depth created by shadows projects a qualitative dimensionality to space, which establishes itself as distinct from the geometry of a given place. In turn, the converging of geometrical properties and lighting create an environment, which affects the entire body experience. However, in spaces that are flooded by light, for example office cubicles and classrooms, the play of depth and texture become paralyzed and erased of all diversity. In work places such as these, shadows are deemed inefficient to the atmosphere of production. It is no wonder that people working in such places are unhappy! As Arnheim noted, light gives form but in aggressively lighted spaces, appearances are forced without form. Without form, without texture, and without shadows which lead us into place, the site disembodies and disturbs the relation between body and architectural space.

1 comment:

  1. While Arnheim is discussing gradients he mentions that set designers in theatre will often color a set piece with a subtle gradient to either enhance or diminish the gradient effect caused by stage lighting. And that the wall containing windows of a room may be painted a slightly lighter color to appear more similar to the other walls which will have light cast upon them. This section of the chapter in conjunction with this post got me thinking about the ways in which architecture can be used to receive light. Architectural features can either fight or embrace light. While light has an effect on every object it touches, if an object is created with full consciousness of the possible effects that can be created they can be manipulated create nearly any sort of reality. The reception of light can be neutralized and enhanced, but it could also, potentially, be made to do new, exciting things that it may not be naturally inclined to. It is an interaction that is ripe for subversion.

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