1 Introduction
The art of architecture creates spatial and material metaphors of our fundamental existential encounters.
(Pallasmaa, 2000, p. 59)
This chapter traces the sparsely researched link in architectural education between first semester students’ experience of liminality and their design work.
Within the research context of TRANSark, a pedagogical forum at the Faculty of Architecture and Design at NTNU, a large volume of empirical data, primarily architectural scale models and drawings, supported by interviews, questionnaires, and student reports, reveal spatial patterns and narrative layers waiting to be explored. Four typical spatial patterns emerge from the material; here named the Path, the Cave, the Tower, and the Centre, which make up a large majority of the projects.
Why do these spatial patterns emerge, and what do they represent? Can they be linked to the experience of the learning process itself, and if so, in what way? Through a process of reflection and research that spans almost twenty years, these questions have been explored in an interplay between a comprehensive empirical data base, various theoretical fields, and focused case studies.
The trajectory from layperson to an identity as architect student is for many a challenging journey of negotiating existential questions and personal transformation (Cuff, 1991; Braaten & Hokstad, 2018; Thompson, 2019). This ambiguous situation of ‘becoming’, typically characterized by states of confusion, frustration, excitement, and revelation, seem to be reflected in the spatial representations of their design work. Acknowledging that liminality is essentially a spatial concept (van Gennep, 1960; Thomassen, 2012), its potential and challenges regarding architectural education has been waiting to be explored.
Preliminary findings suggest that by venturing into new and anxiety-provoking ways of working (Barnett, 2007), the students articulate and give
By presenting four typical cases from the empirical material and discussing them in the context of liminality and liminal space, this chapter will argue for a reconsideration of the way to understand first semester students’ initial attempts in spatial expressions. By this, new perspectives on architectural education and the role of the teacher may emerge.
2 Towards a Pedagogy of Liminality
To qualify for admission to the study of architecture at NTNU requires very good grades from upper secondary school. Therefore, the new students are confident learners, but first and foremost adapted to an educational system based on clear tasks, given answers and linear processes. However, key aspects of architectural education require a high degree of independence, creativity, imagination, and the ability to master open and non-linear processes. The transition between these different paradigms of learning seems for many to create a liminal situation, a challenging in-between state of leaving the known and entering the unknown before new structures of learning are established. This experience of liminality is documented and discussed by several researchers in the field of architectural education (Cuff, 1991; Braaten & Hokstad, 2018; Thompson, 2019; Gullberg, 2021).
Victor Turner, who in the 1960’s rediscovered and reinterpreted van Gennep’s original work on liminality, describes the experience of liminality as an unstructured and radical ambiguous state of being, where:
undoing, dissolution and decomposition is accompanied by growth, transformation, and the reformulation of old elements in new patterns.
(Turner, 1967, p. 99)
Through this state of “un-structure”, liminal situations provide settings in which new symbols, models and paradigms can arise.
The Threshold Concept framework (Schwartzman, 2010; Meyer, Land & Baillie, 2010) represent a perspective on learning where the pedagogical potential of liminality is the point of departure. Discussing the theoretical foundation for this and for the representation of liminality, Leslie Schwartzman proposes:
(Schwartzman, 2010, p. 41, emphasis added)
a phenomenological analysis of a universal human pattern that happens (outside awareness) during encounter with and response to the unknown … This representation of the encounter and its aftermath rests on meaning; it is organized around the process of meaning-making, of interpreting the existentially unfamiliar, the principle of presentation of the unknown to oneself.
3 Spaces Mediating Liminality
Rites of passage constitute transitions of state and mark the initiation of an individual or group into a new status in society (Turner, 1967). According to van Gennep, typical rites of passage are (1) the pre-liminal rites of Separation, when the candidates are isolated from family and society, leaving the known world behind, (2) the liminal rites of Transition, the radical ambiguous state of destruction and death of the old order, initiation and rebirth of a new identity, and finally, (3) the post-liminal rites of Incorporation, the return to society with the new status (Gennep, 1960).
Rites of passage have in pre-modern societies been mediated by corresponding ritual spaces. In The Sacred and the Profane, Mircea Eliade describes how the initiation-process typically starts with the candidate being separated from family and society to stay in a secluded place (Eliade, 1963). This involves a physical movement, a crossing from the known to the unknown, often represented by passing a threshold, a gate, or a bridge. Separated from the ordered and cultivated human society, the path leads the initiand into unstructured, disorienting, maze-like places, representing the pre-Cosmic chaos. This is mirrored in legends, myths, and fairy tales around the world (Campbell, 1949) where the protagonist, like a Pinocchio or a Perceval, leaves the familiarity of home and sets out on a path leading into the unknown.
The secluded ritual space dedicated for the occasion represent the dangerous world of the beyond, where the candidate is symbolically swallowed and imprisoned in “the belly of the whale” (Campbell, 1949, p. 90), often represented by a dark hut, a cave, or a hole in the ground. This is the core of the liminal rites, where the old identity of the candidate dies in the darkness of the “Cosmic Night”. Paradoxically, this dark space also represents the maternal earth womb (Eliade, 1963), the place of rebirth and new beginnings. The mystical rebirth brings a new language; an understanding of the cults basic sacred mysteries and “a mode of being that makes learning, knowledge, possible” (Eliade, 1963, p. 188). In his comment on caves as crucial liminal space
The in-between character of sacred space “with the goal of creating a middle ground, a liminal zone, that mediates between humans and that they seek, revere, fear and worship” is discussed by Thomas Barrie (Barrie, 2010, p. 4). Eliade identifies four aspects characteristic of sacred space. First, it constitutes a break in homogeneous profane space, and second, this break is symbolized by an opening by which transition from one cosmic region to another is made possible. The third aspect is that communication with heaven is expressed by certain images, like a pillar, a tree, a ladder, a tower, or a mountain, all which refer to the axis mundi, the cosmic world pillar. The fourth aspect is the organization of the world around this pillar, as a centre (Eliade, 1963). All four aspects, together or individually, represent a potential in-between space, a liminal space where communication between the cosmic levels and an ontological passage from one mode of being to another is made possible.
The Hadrian Pantheon in Rome represent an archetypal example of sacred central space. On top of the huge space of the dome, the oculus marks an opening to the sky that defines the vertical axis and mediates the connection between the human and divine worlds. This marks the sacred in-between space of heaven and earth (Barrie, 2010). The unicursal labyrinth, found in different places around the world, from prehistoric stone patterns in sub-arctic Scandinavia and Russia, to India and gothic cathedrals in Central-Europe (Chartres and Amiens) represent a combination of the Path motif and the Centre motif. The Norwegian archaeologist Bjørnar Olsen, finding the placement of such structures close to burial grounds in North Norwegian landscapes, suggests seeing them as a material metaphor to conceptualise the transition from life to death, and thus playing a symbolic role in rites of passage (Olsen, 1996).
Within modern and contemporary architecture, the concept of liminality and liminal space have gained interest. In “Rethinking liminality: Built form as threshold-space”, Anda Iona Sfintes explores the conceptualization of museums as threshold-spaces:
We see the threshold-space as built form, which demarcates a breakthrough from everyday life and accommodates a parallel reality, mediating contemporary forms of initiation … In this context, architecture represents a participatory frame and background for interpreting the exhibition and accumulated knowledge. The museum is a blurred space, where different realities are being juxtaposed.
(Sfintes, 2012, p. 1)
4 Spatial Response to Liminality. Empirical Samples
During the years 2002–2004 Braaten was part of a teaching team in an architectural design course for first semester architect students at NTNU in Trondheim, Norway. Each year the course had about 60 students with three full time teachers. During the semester three main assignments were given, the first two as teamwork and the third as an individual design project. For this last assignment, called Space for Invitation, the basic idea was for the students to design a space that invited to an activity or experience that had a special significance to them, in order to develop understanding of the value-based depth aspects of architecture. Considering this, the assignment was not about designing “a house”, but about a space or sequences of space.
Already in the second year it was noticed that some specific elements and patterns of space seemed to recur from the first year that could not immediately be linked to the teaching. This became even more evident by the third year. One teacher expressed frustration that once more had some of his students “dug themselves down”, meaning that they had made spaces underground. Another teacher was particularly puzzled by the recurring pattern of a spiral or circle with a tree in the middle. Among the architectural examples the group of teachers showed the students, this pattern was definitely not a part of the sample collection. Based on pure curiosity, Braaten decided in 2005 to make an overview of all the Space for Invitation projects during the three-year period, with a more detailed exploration of the 2004 cohort. Students from all the three cohorts were asked to answer a questionnaire with some basic information about the project and a response to the process. All the 58 projects from 2004 were systemized in a list showing the title of the project and the keywords the student had used to characterize them, supplemented with a spatial analysis done by Braaten.
The results from this preliminary inquiry showed an almost equal distribution between three basic spatial patterns. The first were projects characterized
The initial question that emerged was simply “What is this?” Where did these spirals with trees in the middle come from and what did they mean? Why all these underground cave-like spaces? Why did so many students seem to be fascinated by mazes instead of a clear and ordered space? In addition to the spatial patterns, there were other aspects with some projects that was intriguing but strange and hard to understand, especially with a conventional architectural perspective. There seemed to be a deeper kind of spatial language present that neither the students themselves nor the teachers were aware of.
A study of the 162 questionnaires from the three cohorts 2002–2004 gave some interesting findings regarding the students experience of the design process. Words that most commonly were mentioned were scary, frightening, diffuse, hard, challenging, exciting, inspiring, fun. The most surprising was that these words more often than not, were found simultaneously. For most of the students the process was neither primarily scary nor fun, but a mixture of seemingly contradictory feelings.
In the beginning everything was diffuse. It was hard to understand what we were supposed to do. Along the way, things got clearer, and it became an exciting task with much exploration. The result was very different and much better than I in the beginning thought it to be. A fun task. (Catalog nr. 138t)
The last project in this first semester was scary, exciting and very fun to do. The most frightening was to trust myself and my own choices … It has been exciting because I have learned a lot about myself, and I believe I have a potential to develop as an architect. (Catalog nr. 308t)
I felt in the start that I was fumbling in the dark and that I did not manage to decide which idea to develop. At the same time as I was fumbling in the dark, I explored several exciting ideas, which I may not have been able to if I just made a decision early on. All in all, I found the assignment challenging, but in the end, I was content with the work I did and what I learned. (Catalog nr. 306t)
(Catalog nr. 086t)
Exciting and frightening. Hard to understand that it may not be any ‘right’ answers, but at the same time still is in a way … To learn a new language. Challenging. Who am I?
The initial exploration of the material from 2002–2004 uncovered aspects of first semester student projects and their experience of the design process, that seemed important to follow up in a systematic and methodical way. A more structured study of the assignment Space for Invitation was therefore initiated for the cohorts 2016–2018 with documentation of about 170 new projects and questionnaires. An addition to the questionnaires had been made, showing a graphical emotional curve during the design process (Figures 9.1 and 9.2). The horizontal axis shows the time factor of the design process, and the vertical axis shows the emotional state (zero in the middle, frustrated in the lower part and excited in the upper part).
Figures 9.1 and 9.2 show two typically different curves. The first with large variations within many short waves and the latter with similar large variations within only one longer wave. What is common for the two is the dramatic curve between emotional highs and lows, and the highlights at the beginning and end of the process.
4.1 The Path
Words often used by the students to describe these projects are exploration, discovery, challenge, contrast, and calmness. Many of the projects of the Path category are mazes that use disorientation and bewilderment as way of invoking excitement and challenging situations, like moving into a dark and dense forest. They typically invite to movement between contrasts, often as a process leading from unrest and turmoil to calmness and inner peace, between darkness and light. Figures 9.3–9.5 show different variations of the Path.
4.1.1 Case: “Meeting Myself, Coming Back” (Figure 9.3)
The student wanted to invite for a mental wandering and reflection. As a reference to the atmosphere of the project is a song called “Happy”. More than just about being happy, it is the feeling of relief when something challenging or troublesome is overcome. Arriving from the campus plateau, a gate marks a threshold for the downward movement into the dense, dark grove. Reaching the ground, a new, magical, and silent world is revealed with subtle light filtered through the branches of the trees, making the yellow carpet of larch needles shine like gold. The contrasting experiences along the path, up and down, through darkness and light, wide views, and secrets spots, is an invitation to a process of healing and recovery. The hardships of sorrow are potentially transformed into joy and happiness mediated by the lifeforces of nature and the guidance of an architectural structure. The path is meant to lead back to where it started, returning to the buzz of the campus plateau. In this way the healing process is fulfilled by a return to everyday life but carrying the memory of a silent spot of golden needles on the ground within you. Meeting yourself, coming back.
The Path pattern is found in multiple versions above the ground, on the ground and underground. Structures as bridges, gates and passages among the trees is common for those above the ground. Tunnels and dark passages, often by students associated with a hidden, magical world, characterize those underground. These versions of the Path are closely connected to the next spatial pattern the Cave.
4.2
Typical for the descriptions of The Cave are contrasts of darkness/light, noise/silence, cold/warm and scary/safe. Meditation, reflection, and introvert activities are most common, supported by an atmosphere of calmness and peace. Very often these projects have a strange, mystical exterior, as a contrast to the soft and calm atmosphere of the interior. This increases the feeling of entering something dark and scary, something unknown. The play of light, the contrast between the dark entrance and the subtle light of the interior space, is in most cave projects the central quality. Other sense aspects, like the smell of earth, the sound of silence and refined or soft surfaces are typically added. Since the exterior visual aspects of the Cave are not the main attraction, the sensory and poetic qualities of the interior become important. Figures 9.6–9.8 show different variations of the Cave pattern.
4.2.1 Case: “The Little Light I have Will Shine Bright” (Figure 9.6)
This project started with a childhood memory of an exploration once done of a bunker from World War II. The student’s associations to this memory and keywords for the architectural design were:
a cave, old, dark, humid, scary, discovery, smell of earth, dripping water, something unknown, claustrophobic, beneath the earth, silence, rays of light.
(Catalog nr. 146)
The project invites for a spatial experience where different impressions of darkness and light, the smell of earth and the sound of dripping water frames a place for meditation and reflection. An atmosphere of secrecy and something hidden is important. The exterior looks grim and kind of strange. If we dare to follow the dark entrance into the narrow underground corridor, we sense nothing but the sound of dripping water and the heavy scent of wet earth. After a short walk, a dimly lit space appears with a narrow vertical slit of light reflecting in the water covering the floor. A niche in the wall with a bench invites us to sit down and close our eyes. The echoing sounds of dripping water and the familiar smell of earth create a spatial experience where both mind and the senses are stimulated in a calming way. When we open our eyes, we discover that the room has changed. The shape of the light reflection on the walls and floor continuously alters with the orbit of the sun, manifesting our existence in the universe.
The most typical cave-projects are those dug into the ground with light coming in from above. However, the feeling of containment under a roof and
4.3 The Tower
The most common words used in describing projects in the Tower category are view/overview, meditation/silence, safety/fear, and excitement/challenge. Typical titles are Safety at the Edge of the Cliff, Invisible Overview and In the Treetops. The combinations of safety and fear and overview without being seen are frequently being used. Being in a high place with a wide view stimulates introvert activities like reading, thinking, and meditation. Figures 9.9–9.11 show different variations of the Tower.
4.3.1 Case: “High Wall, Feeling Small” (Figure 9.9)
The project shows a high concrete wall positioned on a steep slope in the park west of the university campus. At the top of the wall a narrow shelf leads you
Overcoming fear and anxiety of high places is rewarded with the feeling of control and safety and become an important aspect of the tower’s transformative potential.
4.4 The Centre
Within the numerous variations of this pattern, there seem to be two basic types: the dome-variant with a central circular opening (oculus) in the roof (Figures 9.12 and 9.13), and the circular or spiral shaped space with a tree or a fireplace in the middle (Figure 9.14).
Inner and outer discovery, silence, being alone, darkness, beams of light, magic are words that are typical in descriptions of this type of projects. Some are oriented towards the spiritual potential of the centre, while others focus on physical aspect of warmth and comfort at the centre. The potential for meditative silence and poetic atmosphere in the subtle light from above, or the mood of changing expressions of the seasons by the central tree, are common properties.
4.4.1 Case: “Longing for warmth” (Figure 9.12)
A conceptual sketch shows a tree in the centre, with its trunk connecting the underground space with the outside winter-landscape and the sky. The simple, basic idea is to make a space where you can find rest and feel warm on
5 Discussion
The basic question this survey tries to shed a light on is whether there is a plausible connection between the students’ experience of liminality and the spatial expression of their projects.
As shown in the previous section, the first individual architectural design project Space for Invitation can be seen, in the context of education, as a modern-day rite of passage. Many students describe the creative process as a simultaneous experience of being scary, challenging, and inspiring – typical for the different phases of liminality (Thomassen, 2012; Turner, 1967). This is documented by written statements and emotional graphs in the questionnaire. Thus, the assignment can be understood as a threshold for the transition from layperson to becoming an architect student. In some cases (308t and o86t) the statements even point towards transformative experiences, where the students express an ontological shift in the way they see themselves and their world (Braaten & Hokstad, 2018).
Holding the triple role of being teacher, architect, and researcher at the same time, it is impossible to disregard the potential of influencing the students, and through that, the projects as empirical research data. In the end of the day, as a teacher, influencing the students is a part of the deal and is done both in conscious and unconscious ways. However, as earlier mentioned, the assignment was not about designing houses, but a space inviting to an activity or quality that was of special value for the student. This resulted in many cases projects that were quite strange and far away from conventional architecture. In one case, despite of being an undoubtedly high-quality work, one of the teachers exclaimed: “It’s scary!” (Figure 9.15).
All these spirals with trees, dark underground spaces and maze-like structures were not the kind of spatial expressions that the teacher group expected, recommended nor preferred. In fact, the typical centre pattern, the spiral with
The four cases shown from the catalogue of projects (catalog nr. 366, 146, 145 and 358; Figures 9.3, 9.6, 9.9 and 9.12 respectively) are chosen because they represent typical examples of the different spatial categories. At the same time,
The invitation for movement in Meeting Myself, Coming Back, representing the path-pattern, unveil a well-known narrative structure found in fairy tales and legends, as well as rites of passage (Gennep, 1960; Campbell, 1949). Leaving the familiarity of the university campus and entering a steep pathway through a gate (Gennep: separation/Campbell: departure), the wanderer is presented with different views before delving into the darkness of the forest and down to the forest floor (Gennep: transition/Campbell: initiation) where silence and golden needles of larch bring an atmosphere of magic and peace. Renewed, the wanderer ascends the steps up to the campus level, passes through the gate and return to society and the familiar world (Gennep: incorporation/Campbell: return) with a new perspective or, in Turner’s words, “the reformulation of old elements in new patterns” (Turner, 1967, p. 99). The graph of the emotional state through the design process of the same student shows strong fluctuations between exhilaration and frustration typical for the liminal experience. The invitation, which is a mental wandering and reflection, a motion between bewilderment (down into the dark forest) and peaceful joy (the floor of golden needles and shimmering light), seems to be related to this both in a spatial, a narrative and an emotional way.
Comparisons with historic and contemporary examples of spaces made for mediating liminality (Sfintes, 2012; Eliade, 1963) and the student design cases, show a striking similarity. The use of spatial patterns such as the Path, the Cave, the Tower, and the Centre is evident, and narrative structures and content can be recognized (Campbell, 1949). The emphasis on the emotional potentials of spatial expressions and experiences are characteristic for them all. Nevertheless, one should be careful to interpret these projects as conscious, intentional
6 Concluding Thoughts
Seen through conventional architectural lenses, these first semester design works may seem strange and odd. But interpreted in the context of liminality, a perspective is added that opens these projects to a new and meaningful reading. It points at how first-year students of architecture by venturing into new and anxiety-provoking ways of working (Barnett, 2007), in a meaningful way through spatial expression, respond to their existential situation. By this they not only add new layers to our understanding of the latent depths of creative work, but also illustrate how the potential of liminality may challenge the horizon of understanding for both students and teachers. However, we should not forget that liminality, as a natural part of the transformative learning process, also contain darker aspects that need to be addressed. For the teacher, as a guide and companion in a liminal process, it is crucial to understand and acknowledge its ambiguous character. This calls for further discussion and development of a balanced, supportive, practical- and theoretically based pedagogy of liminality.
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