Academia.eduAcademia.edu

Northern Line - in Deleuze and Architecture (proof copy)

A. Radman and D. Hauptmann, (2013) “Northern Line” in Deleuze and Architecture, eds. H. Frichot and S. Loo, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, pp. 40-60.

Deleuze and Architecture Deleuze Connections ‘It is not the elements or the sets which deine the multiplicity. What deines it is the AND, as something which has its place between the elements or between the sets. AND, AND, AND – stammering.’ Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, Dialogues General Editor Ian Buchanan Editorial Advisory Board Keith Ansell-Pearson Rosi Braidotti Claire Colebrook Tom Conley Gregg Lambert Adrian Parr Paul Patton Patricia Pisters Titles Available in the Series Ian Buchanan and Claire Colebrook (eds), Deleuze and Feminist Theory Ian Buchanan and John Marks (eds), Deleuze and Literature Mark Bonta and John Protevi (eds), Deleuze and Geophilosophy Ian Buchanan and Marcel Swiboda (eds), Deleuze and Music Ian Buchanan and Gregg Lambert (eds), Deleuze and Space Martin Fuglsang and Bent Meier Sørensen (eds), Deleuze and the Social Ian Buchanan and Adrian Parr (eds), Deleuze and the Contemporary World Constantin V. Boundas (ed.), Deleuze and Philosophy Ian Buchanan and Nicholas Thoburn (eds), Deleuze and Politics Chrysanthi Nigianni and Merl Storr (eds), Deleuze and Queer Theory Jeffrey A. Bell and Claire Colebrook (eds), Deleuze and History Laura Cull (ed.), Deleuze and Performance Mark Poster and David Savat (eds), Deleuze and New Technology Simone Bignall and Paul Patton (eds), Deleuze and the Postcolonial Stephen Zepke and Simon O’Sullivan (eds), Deleuze and Contemporary Art Laura Guillaume and Joe Hughes (eds), Deleuze and the Body Daniel W. Smith and Nathan Jun (eds), Deleuze and Ethics Frida Beckman (ed.), Deleuze and Sex David Martin-Jones and William Brown (eds), Deleuze and Film Laurent de Sutter and Kyle McGee (eds), Deleuze and Law Arun Saldanha and Jason Michael Adams (eds), Deleuze and Race Rebecca Coleman and Jessica Ringrose (eds), Deleuze and Research Methodologies Inna Semetsky and Diana Masny (eds), Deleuze and Education Hélène Frichot and Stephen Loo (eds), Deleuze and Architecture Visit the Deleuze Connections website at www.euppublishing.com/series/delco Deleuze and Architecture Edited by Hélène Frichot and Stephen Loo © editorial matter and organisation Hélène Frichot and Stephen Loo, 2013 © the chapters their several authors Edinburgh University Press Ltd 22 George Square, Edinburgh EH8 9LF www.euppublishing.com Typeset in 10.5/13 Adobe Sabon by Servis Filmsetting Ltd, Stockport, Cheshire, and printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978 0 7486 7464 0 (hardback) ISBN 978 0 7486 7465 7 (paperback) ISBN 978 0 7486 7466 4 (webready PDF) ISBN 978 0 7486 7467 1 (epub) ISBN 978 0 7486 7468 8 (Amazon ebook) The right of the contributors to be identiied as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Contents Acknowledgements List of Illustrations vi ix Introduction: The Exhaustive and the Exhausted – Deleuze AND Architecture Hélène Frichot and Stephen Loo 1 PART I SITING 1 Becomings: Architecture, Feminism, Deleuze – Before and After the Fold Karen Burns 2 Northern Line Deborah Hauptmann and Andrej Radman 3 Why Deleuze, Why Architecture Marko Jobst PART II 15 40 61 CONSTRUCTING 4 Deleuze and the Story of the Superfold Hélène Frichot 5 Objectile: The Pursuit of Philosophy by Other Means? Bernard Cache with Christian Girard 6 The Architect as Metallurgist: Using Concrete to Trace Bio-digital Lines Mike Hale 7 Assembling Architecture Kim Dovey 79 96 111 131 vi Deleuze and Architecture PART III GATHERING 8 Toward a Theory of the Architectural Subject Simone Brott 9 The Holey City: Walking Along Istanbul’s Theodosian Land Walls Catharina Gabrielsson 10 Deleuze, Architecture and Social Fabrication Andrew Ballantyne 11 Politics + Deleuze + Guattari + Architecture Adrian Parr PART IV 151 168 182 197 CARING 12 The Ethological City Cameron Duff 13 Architectures, Critical and Clinical Chris L. Smith 14 Abstract Care Stephen Loo 15 Making a Rhizome, or Architecture after Deleuze and Guattari Anne Querrien, Constantin Petcou and Doina Petrescu Notes on Contributors Index 215 230 245 262 276 283 Chapter 2 Northern Line Deborah Hauptmann and Andrej Radman Introduction This chapter takes as a point of departure the Deleuzian concept of the ‘Northern Line’. Scholarly accounts of the Dutch Baroque suggest that, in contrast to the organic force of their Italian counterparts, the Dutch painters set themselves apart with a genuinely new haptic painterly tradition, effectively creating an abstract machine with its power of repetition. It is with the seventeenth-century Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer that the unleashing of affect is irst seen; to our mind this grants him the status of the bearer of the Deleuzian Northern Line (Deleuze 1997: 143). However, the most important ‘Dutchman’ in the eyes of Deleuze remains Spinoza, the prince of immanence. Thus our argument requires laying the pre-philosophical plane of immanence, creating a Northern Line concept and inventing the conceptual personae, or aesthetic igures, of the architects we see as the heirs of this tradition: UN Studio (UNS), NOX and OMA. This triad will be utilised to situate contemporary Dutch architecture within an aesthetic position that argues for a reciprocal determination of the abstract and concrete; or, with Deleuze, the virtual and the actual. We will draw on Deleuze and Guattari’s reading of the Northern Line as a theoretical disposition towards the differential difference in contrast to the dialectical difference. The latter operates in terms of opposition, negation and, ipso facto, resistance correlative to a molar notion of power (pouvoir) and not, as with the former, the (molecular) level of ‘desiring assemblages’ (Deleuze and Guattari 2004: 496–7). Our argument will show that the Northern Line provides an aesthetic reading – neither distributed nor organised around the mind, nor oriented toward cognition – that is capable of escaping architecture’s long-standing dependence on representationalism. In What Is Philosophy? Deleuze and Guattari develop the conceptual Northern Line 41 persona (1994: 177); with this concept we will work through a process of decoding, of decomposing the architect and the work into a-personal and pre-subjective levels.1 Put otherwise, we will engage DeleuzeGuattari where, working from desiring assemblages, they circumvent the phenomenon of ideology, treating it as an epiphenomenon; we similarly propose to treat architecture in terms of what they refer to as passive syntheses, which undermine the active synthesis of representation.2 Of course, this extra-propositional and sub-representative level of thoughtevents requires a mode of analysis that cannot rely on the fully actual, for this would inevitably lead to conlating the material cause with the incorporeal effect. By this we mean to say that things themselves are bearers of ideal events, which do not coincide with their properties. Any (actual) incarnation may in fact be seen as a (provisional) ‘solution’ to the problem posed by the virtual, which is consequently not Ideal but problematic. The concept prevents regression into simple reductionism since there is no homology between the actual and virtual. This chapter will present an analysis or, more in keeping with DeleuzeGuattari, a schizoanalysis of the working methods of the Dutch architects mentioned above. We will further suggest that it is not the architect who invents the conceptual persona, but rather the persona itself that provides the architectural body of work with a certain (endo)consistency formerly known as style. Finally, with this work we hope to develop a reading of several Deleuzian thought models which we believe have been somewhat overlooked in contemporary discourse on Deleuze and the impact of his philosophy on architecture. This will include the three syntheses of the connective, the disjunctive and the conjunctive in relation to the paranoiac, miraculating and celibate machines respectively. Distribution of the Sensible The idea of the ‘idea behind architecture’ is the Platonic idealism we wish to repudiate. With this, it is important to understand that Deleuze and Guattari see absolutely no distinction between a desiringproduction and social production. As they argue in Anti-Oedipus, desire is objective and immanent: ‘There is no particular form of existence that can be labelled “psychic reality”’ (2008: 27). And a few paragraphs later: ‘There is no such thing as the social production of reality on the one hand, and a desiring-production that is mere fantasy on the other’ (ibid.: 28). Further, and in clear terms, ‘desiring-production is one and the same thing as social production’ (ibid.: 30). This in turn means that there is no individual fantasy; there are only social fantasies, a revelation 42 Deleuze and Architecture that effectively turns psychoanalysis on its head. Deleuze and Guattari refer to such ‘material psychiatry’ as schizoanalysis where the connections and disjunctions operate ad ininitum. As Smith and Ballantyne have recently argued, although ‘Freud begins to take us to a ield where we can enter a discourse of low – of novel and intense material connections with that which is non-habitual, non-genital, non-human – unfortunately for Freud there is a “natural” connection and investment; a personalising of desire that ties the ebbs and tides of the libido to the self and the familiar/familial’ (2010: 24). The unleashing of desire is essential for our approach, given that we take the conditions of genesis (production) as the basis of experience to be the very medium of architecture. What distinguishes ‘immanent architecture’ is that it does not merely fulil the (pre-given) expectation, it also produces its ‘audience’: a people yet to come. In contrast to AntiOedipus – the irst volume of Capitalism and Schizophrenia – the second volume, A Thousand Plateaus, has a much wider range of registers: cosmic, geological, evolutionary, developmental, ethological, anthropological, mythological, historical, economic, political, literary, musical and many more (a thousand plateaus), where every plane is matter unfolding, where relations are effected by speciic expressions which, in turn, are events of speciic powers to relate. Despite the introduction of ever more new terms, the abstract machine stays virtually the same: together the passive syntheses at all these levels form a differential ield within which stratiication takes place as an integration or resolution of that ield. As a matter of fact, this machinism dates back to Deleuze’s 1968 work Différence et Répétition. We ind this especially pertinent given that throughout history there has been a prejudicial tendency to set the realm of sensibility against that of reason or understanding. Deleuze was among the irst to propose a transformation of transcendental idealism into transcendental empiricism with far-reaching consequences in both metaphysical and epistemological registers: If [transcendental] aesthetic appears more profound to us than that of Kant, it is for the following reasons: Kant deines the passive self in terms of simple receptivity, thereby assuming sensations already formed, then merely relating these to the a priori forms of their representation which are determined as space and time. In this manner, not only does he unify the passive self by ruling out the possibility of composing space step by step, not only does he deprive this passive self of all power of synthesis (synthesis being reserved for activity), but moreover he cuts the Aesthetic into two parts: the objective element of sensation guaranteed by space and Northern Line 43 Figure 2.1 Four scalar signs of affection: although a sign, according to Spinoza qua Deleuze, can have several meanings, it is always an effect of one body upon another. In ‘Spinoza and the Three “Ethics”’, Deleuze distinguishes between vectorial and scalar signs. The former are signs of increase and decrease – continuous variations of power – while the latter express one’s state at a moment in time, ‘a slice of duration’. Affects are irreducible to affections, sensations or perceptions. The igure compares the four principal types of scalar signs that vary according to the contingent nature of assemblage (Deleuze 1997: 138–51). the subjective element which is incarnate in pleasure and pain. The aim of the preceding analyses, on the contrary, has been to show that receptivity must be deined in terms of the formation of local selves or egos, in terms of the passive syntheses of contemplation or contraction, thereby accounting simultaneously for the possibility of experiencing sensations, the power of reproducing them and the value that pleasure assumes as a principle. (Deleuze 1994: 98) Sensibility itself becomes a ield of (artistic/architectural) creation and experimentation. Such a thesis invites us, pace Jacques Rancière (2004), to examine ‘the distribution of the sensible’ in the social ield as an issue of social and political individuation.3 The question is no longer that of the ultimate nature of reality; rather it is the distribution of the sensible and insensible within which we ind ourselves immersed. We ought to start by distinguishing diagrams from signs, be they vectorial – augmentative powers and diminutive servitudes – or scalar (see Figure 2.1). Deined diagrammatically [. . .], an abstract machine is neither an infrastructure that is determining in the last instance nor a transcendental Idea that is determining in the supreme instance. Rather, it plays a piloting role. The diagrammatic or abstract machine does not function to represent, even something real, but rather constructs a real that is yet to come, a new type of reality. Thus when it constitutes points of creation or potentiality it does not stand outside history but is instead always ‘prior to’ history. (Deleuze and Guattari 2004: 141–2) The signiicance of the Northern Line is that it ‘binds’ the undetermined, determinable and (mutually) determined. It is not a given, as Deleuze 44 Deleuze and Architecture Figure 2.2 Three cuts: an abstract machine is deined by Deleuze and guattari as a system of cuts. The igure shows three different kinds of cuts which pertain to the three components of desiring production: (i) low or the portioning-cut of desiring machines; (ii) code or the detachment-cut from which issues the BwO; and (iii) stock or the remainder-cut that produces the nomadic subject (Bogue 2003: 63). writes in Difference and Repetition (1994: 222), but that by which a given is given. With respect to Architecture, as we hope to show, Cartesian foundationalism does not hold; instead we ind the necessity of foundation can only exist for determinable ground, not the inal complete determination that remains only ever reciprocally determined. In other words, the system cannot be deterministic and the nature of this ‘circle’ is to remain radically open, hence diagrammatic.4 For Deleuze and Guattari the machine does not conlict with either culture or nature. The machine is not reducible to the mechanics conceived as the protocol of some technical machines or particular organisation of an organism. Machinism therefore designates every system that cuts off luxes going beyond both mechanicism and vitalism: ‘The unconscious is a factory and not a stage’ (Guattari 1995: 73–4). We will next try to distinguish between the respective desiring machines: the working parts of UNS, the immobile motor of NOX and the adjacent part of OMA and their three forms of energy: ‘Libido, Numen, and Voluptas; and their three syntheses: the connective syntheses of partial objects and lows, the disjunctive syntheses of singularities and chains, and the conjunctive syntheses of intensities and becomings’ (Deleuze and Guattari 2008: 338) – see Figure 2.2, which we have borrowed and adapted from Anti-Oedipus. Northern Line 45 Manimal: Paranoiac Machine At the irst level of synthesis, the Body without Organs stands opposed to its desiring machines, repelling them in the manner of a ‘paranoiac machine’ (Deleuze and Guattari 2008: 9). This can be regarded as analogous to what Deleuze called the ‘pure present’ in Difference and Repetition, since the paranoiac machine immediately erases whatever appears on its surface in order to allow for something new to appear. The passive perceptual syntheses of imagination are preceded by a myriad of passive syntheses at the organic level, making the organism ‘the primary habit it is’ (1994: 74). Habit (Habitus) is therefore a contraction of habitual contractions that occur on multiple levels. The synthesis of habit, in turn, precedes the memory and recollection of conscious thought. The contraction is not a relection (ibid.: 91). It provides a ‘rule’ in the form of sensory-motor responses to present stimuli that anticipate the future on the basis of the past.5 At this level a (physical) organism could be said to be ruled by instinctual response. The ‘connective syntheses of production’, through which linear sequences of the ‘and then’ form are constituted, remains undetermined. However, as Deleuze and Guattari point out (2008: 309, 323), it captures an aspect of the intensive, the machinic assemblage, by connecting or coupling heterogeneous ‘partial objects’ through the emission of ‘energy lows’. If there is a plane of composition that has marked the œuvre of UNS, then it is the Manimal, a computer-generated image of the hybridisation of a lion, a snake and a human. To be clear, the Manimal is neither igural nor structural but machinic: ‘As a technique, it excites because it has been produced in a manner radically different from all pictorial techniques that have been previously employed by artists’ (van Berkel and Bos 1999b: 80). We can formulate this equation as: Manimal = lion AND snake AND man. According to Ben van Berkel and Caroline Bos, there are three main aspects that make the hybridising technique of the Manimal architecturally interesting; these concern the relations of the technique with the author, time and mereology. The irst concerns the ambiguity of authorship, given the plurality of ‘sometimes invisible’ participants (not excluding the software programmers). The relation to time is one of continuous variation or ‘a sequence that could, in principle, run indeinitely’. Accordingly, UNS openly express anxiety over ‘freezing architecture in time’ given that, according to them, only change exists. Most importantly, with regard to the Part-to-Whole relation, the unity of the Manimal as an image is not disrupted by the diversity of 46 Deleuze and Architecture its ingredients, which is what most distinguishes the technique from the traditional technique of collage: This is the most radical choice for architecture to face. The totalising, decontextualising, dehistoricising combination of discordant systems of information can be instrumentalised architecturally into one gesture. [. . .] The architecture of hybridization, the luent merging of constituent parts into an endlessly variable whole, amounts to organisation of continuous difference, resulting in structures that are scale-less, subject to evolution, expansion, inversion and other contortions and manipulations. Free to assume different identities, architecture becomes endless. (1999b: 83) Ever since its appearance the Manimal has been the spiritus movens of UNS and continues to feature prominently in their discourse. Its genealogy is well known by now: from the ‘fragmented organisation of disconnected parts’ to the ‘displaced organisation of connected parts’ to the ‘seamless organisation of disconnected parts’ or the ‘portrait of becoming’, where van Berkel and Bos express that they ‘have never had a lot of faith in interpretation’ (Birnbaum and Lynn 2002: 15). The irst ‘fragmenting’ paradigm is illustrated by the exploded view of Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye, accompanied by the Bauhausian mannequin head adorned in the technique of collage as a seam: stitching together separate parts that retain their respective identities. By contrast, the second ‘displacing’ paradigm is exempliied by the formal analogy between Francis Bacon’s igural (neither igurative nor abstract) portrait and a piece of architectural metabolist megastructure (architecture cum urbanism). It is presented as a transition phase towards the endless (and, and, etc.), best illustrated by the Möbius Strip as well as the Manimal itself. The fascination with the ‘production of production’ ranks UNS among the leading architects of the low in the very precise sense of the libidinal form of energy. Aaron Betsky points out in ‘Unfolding the Forms of Unstudio’ (2002: 9, 11) that, from the beginning, UNS have used the body as a model (and metaphor): Up to this point, the architects had argued for the emergence of form out of the manipulation of physical material. They proposed what they called the ‘invisible detail’. They articulated this detail in opposition to either the articulated meeting of materials that structural expressionism would champion, or the smooth making of enclosed forms that would seek to deny the physicality of the object. Instead, they thought that details should drink in the difference between materials, make possible their meeting, allow the form to be folded, and then disappear. (Cf. van Berkel and Bos 1994: 176–81) Northern Line 47 Their Move (1999) opens up not only with kaleidoscopic images but also chains of seemingly unrelated terms.6 However, this uncompromising decontextualising and dehistoricising strategy comes at a price. When asked how to negotiate the difference between (anthropocentric) scale-dependency and (geocentric) scalelessness, the conceptual persona remains utterly consistent in failing to give an answer.7 This is simply not an issue for UNS given their theoretical and practical agenda. The Manimal, as we see it, stands not for keeping track of the low, but for the low itself, any low; UNS refer to such a ‘non-reductionist’ approach as ‘Deep Planning’.8 The ease with which a myriad of ‘partial objects’ is handled by this ‘paranoiac machine’ proves the point: ‘Move introduces inclusiveness in the design approach [. . .] Inclusiveness allows fragmentation and difference to be absorbed into a coherent, continuous approach, abandoning the strategies of fragmentation and collage’ (van Berkel and Bos 1999a: 15). They later conclude: ‘The inclusive model is anti nothing’ (ibid.: 221). What UNS also unapologetically abandon is history: ‘We have already forgotten history, shaken off the metaphors belonging to wood, bricks and steel. We have already seen emptiness. Now it is time to redeine materiality’ (ibid.: 156–7). And redeine it they did. Not according to its chemical composition, or vis-à-vis sensibility, but on the basis of performativity in the emergence of the project. For UNS, ‘between art and airports’, only the present matters, and entire processes are rendered visible.9 Its favourite colour is blue, the colour which, according to the trend forecaster Edelkoort, ‘dissolves contrasts and wipes out details [. . .] and undoes form’ (2002: 96–7). D-Tower: Miraculating Machine Corresponding to the constitution of a ‘pure past’ are the disjunctive syntheses by which whatever is produced through the connective syntheses is recorded on the surface of the Body without Organs. BwO therefore functions as a gigantic memory or pure past (Mnemosyne). This past is ‘pure’ in the sense that it does not contain entities open to representation; it also makes the present pass, as it were.10 Deleuze and Guattari (2008: 11) show that this ‘miraculating machine’, which attracts rather than repels the desiring-machines that populate it, becomes determinable (although not determined).11 The ‘disjunctive syntheses of recording’ have the form of ‘either . . . or . . . or’. At this level a life form can engage in signiiance – a term that indicates the ‘signifying capacity’ as the primary effect of a regime of signs within the semiotic register. In Creative Evolution (1907), Bergson claims that what distinguishes 48 Deleuze and Architecture the instinctual response from a free response of a thinking organism is that there is a gap between the stimulus and response of the latter.12 The disjunctive synthesis involves the creation of divergent relations among the series that occur on the Body without Organs (Deleuze and Guattari 2008: 13). It therefore refers to the virtual continuum, ‘a pure luid in a free state, lowing without interruption, streaming over the surface of a full body’ (ibid.: 8). In Anti-Oedipus, Deleuze and Guattari present the low and the code as correlative notions. There is no code without the low and vice versa. It comes as no surprise that uncoded low represents a true nightmare from the point of view of any society, for it is quite literally elusive and leeting. The code, as opposed to the low, introduces a measure of attraction and zones of convergence. The coding process is therefore not inclusive, but exclusive, which is to say that it is not a matter of the production of production but rather the production of recording. It is no coincidence that Lars Spuybroek, the founder of NOX, is not only well versed in history but also openly critical of the atemporality associated with mainstream modernism.13 His D-Tower from 2003, created in collaboration with the artist Q. S. Seraijn, is a paradigmatic example of the production of recording. The tower is twelve metres tall and made of epoxy. During daytime, it is white-greyish, while at night, from 8 p.m., the tower is lit up by LEDs. It has four colours. The colour of the day is fed by a website where a group of Doetinchem volunteers keep a diary. Each day over the course of six months they answer ifty questions about fear, hate, love and happiness. The computer measures the day’s emotions based on the answers. At night, it shows the city’s emotion of the day: red stands for love, blue for happiness, yellow for fear, green for hate. In the words of Brian Massumi: The tower changes color according to the results, becoming a beacon of the collective mood. Affect has been given visual expression. The predominant affective quality of people’s interactions becomes visible. This can undoubtedly relect back on the interactions taking place in the town by making something that was private and imperceptible public and perceptible. A kind of feedback loop has been created between private mood and public image that has never existed in quite this way before. (Massumi 2006) Whereas UNS seem to be oblivious to the issues of signii(c)ance, it is quite the opposite in the case of NOX. The mood of Doetinchem is not red and blue (love and happiness), but either red or blue (love or happiness). It is not the Tower that is the Body without Organs, but the whole of Doetinchem. If anything, the Tower is an ad hoc Organ Northern Line 49 (without the Body). While UNS are concerned with the ‘problem’ (of endlessness), NOX seem to be more interested in the ‘solution’ (or convergence, i.e. singularities), hence the title of The Architecture of Continuity (Spuybroek 2008). The polar opposite of this continuity, with a Numenal form of energy – which refers to the coming-together of action-perception-construction (relation) – is not discontinuity but endlessness itself (ininite). Of the three conceptual personae, it is NOX that most explicitly embrace the Northern Line, although, in this particular case, ‘Gothic’ can be read as a synonym for Northern Line (Spuybroek 2011: 46–7). In an interview entitled ‘The Aesthetics of Variation’ (2007: 142–3), Spuybroek cites liberally from Worringer: ‘The Ceaseless Melody of the Northern Line’ is one of the chapters in [Worringer’s] book Formprobleme der Gotik (1911) – in English, Form in Gothic. Let’s just start off with: ‘in Northern ornament repetition does not bear this restful character of addition . . .’ – and with this he means classicist symmetry – ‘[. . .] but has, so to speak, a character of multiplication. The intervention of any desire for organic moderation and serenity here is lacking.’ A shot right between the eyes of Alberti. Symmetry replaced by repetition, by serial rhythms of multiplication. Nobody really understood at the time how Worringer could have done this book on the gothic three years after his famous Abstraction and Empathy (1908), which became the bible of early abstract painters. But it’s the same expressionism: ‘the Northern Line does not get its life from any impress which we willingly give it, but appears to have an expression of its own, which is stronger than life.’ What sets NOX apart is the attention to what is going on (genealogy) in what happened (archaeology) or the attention to the distribution of singularities on the Body without Organs: ‘Life Constructs. Agency builds’ (Spuybroek 2008: 19). The vagueness of BwO is not to be taken as a lack of logic, but quite the opposite. According to Lars Spuybroek, it is precisely that which constitutes relations. Most importantly, these relations are exterior to their terms. It is the relations that create the Whole, and not the Part or inalities as Spuybroek calls them. Finality, in turn, is the polar opposite of generality: ‘things are necessarily vague [not ambiguous], since they are one and many at the same time’ (2008: 23–4). It is for this reason that diagramming is still the most important innovation in architecture, claims Spuybroek in ‘Motor Geometry’. On a techno-cultural level, diagramming signiies a move toward metadesign or ‘Designing the way of designing itself’ (Spuybroek 1998: 50). 50 Deleuze and Architecture Naked Boxer Eating Oysters: Celibate Machine Finally, the conjunctive syntheses give rise to the ‘celibate machine’, which, as the practical equivalent of the ‘pure future’ (Nietzschean Eternal Return), unites the repulsive tendency of the paranoiac machine and the attractive tendency of the miraculating machine.14 The ‘eternal return’ is deined by Deleuze in a very formal manner, as summed up by James Williams (2011: 16) in the following proposition: only difference returns and never the same. This, in turn, means that novelty is always an expression of pure differences in new events. The three machines – paranoiac, miraculating and celibate – are strictly non-sequential. The ‘last’ one is the locus of jouissance and afirmation: sentio ergo sum. The ‘conjunctive syntheses of consumption’ take the form of a reciprocally determined mode of existence by (retroactively) concluding ‘so it’s . . .’ (Deleuze and Guattari 2008: 12). This is a ‘larval subject’, beyond the human, who afirms life by evolving with (rather than within) an unrepresentable time, ‘a strange subject with no ixed identity, wandering about over the body without organs [. . .] being born of the states that it consumes’ (ibid.: 16). The conjunctive synthesis therefore involves the creation of convergent relations among series, an operation which forms ‘individuation ields’ that already preigure the intensive pre-actualisation. If the interest of UNS lies in the physiological register and that of NOX in the register of signiiance, then OMA could be said to have an ongoing interest in the psychological, with Voluptas as its form of energy.15 The Downtown Athletic Club from Koolhaas’s Delirious New York (1978) provides for (metropolitan) conditions that engender (larval) subjects that consume them. According to the architectural historian Hans van Dijk, Koolhaas does not use the Club’s section only as a corrective intervention in order to resist the banality of the high-rise, or for mere program distribution, as that would amount to the ordinary and reductive use of a diagram. Rather, the Club’s section becomes a deliberate design device to employ the ‘abstract machine’, which produces the skyscraper and makes it susceptible to the unforeseen (van Dijk 2005: 72). We have located the ‘Naked Boxer Eating Oysters – Celibate Machine’ in Delirious New York. Here Koolhaas studied how the programmes of the thirty-eight-storey Downtown Athletic Club subverted the usual uniformity of the blank-faced tower to become the ‘apotheosis of the Skyscraper as instrument of the Culture of Congestion’. The Club harbours a sometimes surreal collection of activities – squash courts, a Northern Line 51 swimming pool, a colonic centre and an indoor golf course – united only by the circulatory core of thirteen elevators that unite and feed all the loors. The ninth combines a room full of punching bags with an oyster bar. ‘Eating oysters with boxing gloves, naked,’ says Koolhaas, ‘such is the “plot” of the ninth story, or, the 20th century in action’. According to Jeff Kipnis (2005: 103), the free-section is the necessary invention: [A] recasting of the metropolis’s vertical infrastructure into a building device to achieve the unregulated anonymities – and thus stage the unfettered behaviors – that are not possible in free-plan [in order to] detach the subject in a building from the regime of immediate experience, with its emphasis on satisied expectations and phenomenological, haptic, aesthetic, and symbolic pleasures, in order to place them elsewhere as subjects of a different spatial regime, one with other pleasures, other expectations, other politics. This makes OMA an expert in the ‘production of consumption or consummation’, both libidinal and political, which is virtually the same.16 However, by no means does the (quasi) subject come ready-made only to be detached; rather, it is reciprocally determined.17 It can therefore only declare (in retrospect) ‘so that’s what it was’. It is a ‘celibate machine’. As Arie Graaland writes in Architectural Bodies: Koolhaas describes The Downtown Athletic Club in Manhattan (DAC) as a [bachelor] machine where the New York ‘bachelor’ brings his body into peak condition. To ind that original idea which was ultimately realized in America, we must turn to a second machine [‘the culture of congestion’ a.k.a. Ginzburg’s ‘social condenser’ being the irst], that of Marcel Duchamp, who a few years previous to DAC had realized his La Mariée mise à nu par ses célibataires, même [The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even]. [. . .] Indeed, from Beckett to Duchamp, this is an important impulse in the thinking of a number of intellectuals at the beginning of this [twentieth] century.18 (1996: 44) As we have seen, Deleuze rejects the Kantian restriction of synthesis to the active ‘I think’ and the relegation of the passive self to receptivity. That is to say that the bachelor or celibate machine is not the same thing as the willing machine. The bachelor is a playful suitor, as with Duchamp, hovering on the border between the respectable and the unknown, and hence suspect: that is, forever produced as a new alliance between the paranoid and the miraculating, between desiring machines and the Body without Organs. The celibate machine consequently creates the nomadic subject as a residue, something left over. This subject can be an individual, text, practice, architecture or an institution. 52 Deleuze and Architecture It is an offshoot of a particular constellation of forces. The opposition between the forces of attraction (continuum) and repulsion (endlessness) produces an open series of intensive positive elements that are never to reach the state of equilibrium of a system. Instead, they express a variety of metastable states, which a (larval) subject undergoes. It is worth repeating that – contrary to popular belief – a nomad does not move but stays put. Instead of changing his habitat, like a migrant or a sedentary, a nomad changes his habit. The nomadic subject ‘consumes and consummates each of the states through which it passes, and is born of each of them anew’ (Deleuze and Guattari 2008: 20).19 As Fadi Abou-Rihan suggests, the conjunctive synthesis is ‘quasi traumatic’ in that it acts as the ‘signpost of a radical shift in the subject’s thought, perception, and experience’; in other words, a shift in the very manner in which the subject deploys ‘itself for itself and for others’ (Abou-Rihan 2011: 73). He further explains the signiicance of this ontogenetic imbroglio: Through the conjunctive (it’s me and so it’s mine . . .) synthesis, Deleuze and Guattari are effectively redeining insight and in the process rearranging the terms if not the relevance of the debate here. The synthesis in question is ostensibly a ‘so that’s what it is!’ moment of insight and a clarity identiied by its effect to reorganize radically not only delirium (thought) but hallucination (perception) and intensity (experience) as well. The ‘so that’s what it is!’ is not so much a revelation or an uncovering of the subject to itself but the making of a subject. (2011: 72–3) While the subject does depend on the interaction between I experience, I think and I see, Abou-Rihan continues, ‘it is not the sum total of all three moments or modes [intensity, delirium and hallucination]; it is an offshoot and a side-effect rather than a unity precisely because it is constantly disrupted by its nature as a subject in jouissance’ (ibid.: 71). In this way Deleuze and Guattari manage to rebut a long tradition in both philosophy and psychoanalysis that has insisted on inscribing the subject as primarily grounded in thought (Descartes) or language (Lacan). Such fetishistic subjects have deluded themselves into thinking in the mode of the ready-made that is at the centre of its various experiences and understandings, separate from the constellation of intensities that it undergoes. This revelation sheds a new light on the critique of Koolhaas’s alleged regressive strategy of frequent reference to retroactivity. Take, for example, his report on a student ield trip to Berlin in the early 1970s. Under the subtitle Reverse Epiphanies, Koolhaas admits to the following ‘negative revelation’: ‘The [Berlin] wall also, in my eyes, made a total Northern Line 53 mockery of any of the emerging attempts to link form to meaning in a regressive chain-and-ball relationship’ (Koolhaas 1995: 214–33). The wall’s meaning, according to him, appeared to change almost daily or even hourly, often depending on remote events and decisions. ‘So, that’s what it was.’ It turned out that its signiicance, as a piece of architecture, was in fact marginal. Koolhaas, by his own admission, would never again believe in form as the primary vessel of meaning. How could he, given the ubiquitous capitalist machine that decodes lows and deterritorialises the socius, only to conjoin them anew on its immanent ield in order to extract a surplus value? The question arises of whether the energy released via production (of consumption) can be reclaimed as Voluptas, that is to say not in the sense of ‘regressing’ to the wall (any wall – metonym for architecture) as a territorial sign (coding), and not by overcoding: enter celibate machine. While conscious investment generates subjugated groups who privilege power over desiring-production in their attempt to change the socius, unconscious or libidinal investment generates subject groups whose programless politics subordinates the socius to pure desire with no interest, cause or teleology.20 At their most experimental, art and architecture have the capacity to escape their historical moment. This is the sine qua non of the project of defatalisation. Upon receiving the Pritzker Prize in 2000, Koolhaas was interviewed by one of the editors of S, M, L, XL, Jennifer Siegler. In some of his answers we ind an almost uncanny resonance with the ‘production of production, recording and consummation’ thesis that we put forward: Jen: That must be why you make people nervous. You take in everything. People feel that. Rem: I can’t ever be oblivious. I wrote a sentence today: ‘The tyranny of the oblivious . . .’ My whole life has been about envying the tyranny of the oblivious. And feeling the vulnerability of the . . . recorder. Jen: Of the what? Rem: Of those who record. Jen: You call yourself a recorder. Rem: The thing is that I have a really intense, almost compulsive need to record. But it doesn’t end there, because what I record is somehow transformed into a creative thing. There is a continuity. Recording is the beginning of a conceptual production. I am somehow collapsing the two – recording and producing – into a single event. (Koolhaas 2000; emphasis added) 54 Deleuze and Architecture A People is Missing It goes without saying that our triad appears too neat.21 However, it bears repeating that it is never exclusive. Each of the respective conceptual personae/aesthetic igures discussed above is a product of a speciic machinism and the (desiring) machines are part of the same continuum. This means that the three syntheses are irreducible. It is also impossible to circumvent any of them. Yet, according to our (schizo)analysis, a difference of emphasis appears nevertheless.22 We will refer to it as style. This style is not an effect, but a quasi-cause. It may be argued that Dutch architects such as Claus and Kaan and MVRDV have an exquisite style. By contrast, we would argue that UNS, NOX and OMA have no style. Rather, thanks to the abstract machine or the Northern Line, it is style that has them. Let us reiterate that the ‘schizophrenia’ Deleuze and Guattari embrace is not a pathological condition. For them, as Massumi explains (1993: 1), ‘the clinical schizophrenic’s debilitating detachment from the world is a quelled attempt to engage it in unimagined ways. Schizophrenia as a positive process is inventive connection, expansion rather than withdrawal.’ What sets our triad apart – as potential proponents of ‘immanent architecture’ – is the ambition not to fulil the desire of a ready-made audience but to produce its own audience and quite literally so. Thus we emphasise passive syntheses with the clear architectural agenda of forcing the shift from the design of form to the design of experience. We proceed from the premise that the individual is not form but power.23 What we refer to as the ‘mapping of agency’, which is complementary but antecedent to the well-known ‘agency of mapping’, is best explained by Deleuze qua Klee in A Thousand Plateaus: The artist opens up to the Cosmos in order to harness forces in a ‘work’ (without which the opening onto the Cosmos would only be a reverie incapable of enlarging the limits of the earth); this work requires very simple, pure, almost childish means, but also the forces of a people, which is what is still lacking. (2004: 337) Consider the juxtaposition with the architecture theorist Robert Somol’s ‘active’, that is representational (social constructivist), historical triad, where he starts by questioning the stability of form (see Figure 2.3). By contrast to our ‘passive’ triad, this logocentric triad found that form was not ‘neutral’, but constructed by linguistic and institutional relations. According to Somol, the agenda was irst broached in Robert Venturi’s deployment of collage as a deviation of form to become information or sign, which was not merely compositional but would include Northern Line 55 Figure 2.3 Three architectural triads: a comparative analysis between the (i) authors’ passive, (ii) Robert Somol’s ‘active’ and (iii) Michael Hays’ Lacanian systematisation. The difference that marks the irst is the dissolution of the self-identical subject: irst, in the contraption of habit by the Paranoiac Machine; second, in the memory of the pure past by the Miraculating Machine; and inally, in the third synthesis by the Celibate Machine, time is witnessed as pure form without content, demented, ‘out of joint’. In contrast to the model of recognition adhered to by Somol and Hays, the encounter is captured only on the basis of the involuntary thought. It emits signs and intensities that are (empirically) imperceptible, sub-representational yet affective. both text and ‘low-brow’ references. By contrast, Peter Eisenman’s deviation would move to the trace, the missing index of formal processes, stressing the absence and the conceptual. Finally, John Hejduk would investigate the theatrical construction of form through highly orchestrated relations and instructions, both linguistic and contractual. Somol’s ‘three-pronged critique’ variously foregrounds: context with Venturi (framing mechanisms outside form); process with Eisenman (active procedures within formation); and usage with Hejduk (form’s relation to a subject). For Somol (1999), with the neo-avant-garde, ‘form would be precisely subjected to the functions of its linguistic descendants: informing, transforming, and performing’. But as Somol professes, yet fails to live up to, working diagrammatically is not to be confused with simply working with diagrams. That is to say, the (nonformal/subrepresentational) mapping of agency is not to be conlated with the agency of mapping (in/trans/per-forming). Abstract machines do operate within concrete assemblages, but they make the territorial 56 Deleuze and Architecture assemblage open onto assemblages of another type (molecular, cosmic) that constitute becomings. By contrast, Koolhaas in his seminal ‘Generic City’ (1995: 1248) suggests that ‘[Molar] Identity is like a mousetrap in which more and more mice have to share the original bait, and which, on closer inspection, may have been empty for centuries.’ In other words, what makes abstract machines abstract is that they know nothing of forms and substances. Form is never subjected to anything.24 Nor is it representation of the real as in Michael Hays’s Lacanian systematisation (third triad: imaginary – symbolic – real). Despite their apparent opposition, ‘projective’ Somol and ‘critical’ Hays, they share a correlationist stance: philosophy of access and access to access (Radman, forthcoming). For schizoanalysis, as opposed to psychoanalysis, the Real = Desiringproduction.25 In Anti-Oedipus Deleuze and Guattari consider that ‘the machines of desire [. . .] no longer allow themselves to be reduced to the structure any more than to persons. (They thus) constitute the Real in itself, beyond or beneath the Symbolic as well as the Imaginary’ (2008: 52). Every abstract machine is nothing but a consolidated aggregate of (un-formed) matters and (non-formal) functions, that is phylum and diagram. It is singular and creative, real yet non-concrete, actual yet non-effectuated. That is precisely why abstract machines can be dated and named: UNS paranoiac machine, NOX miraculating machine and OMA celibate machine. Not that they refer to architects or to architecture (effectuating moments). On the contrary, it is the names and dates that refer to the singularities of the machines, and to what they effectuate. Notes 1. If we make an analogy with Deleuze and Guattari’s ‘conceptual persona’, who is not the thinker’s representative but rather the reverse, we could say that the architect is only the envelope of her principal ‘aesthetic igure’. Deleuze and Guattari explain the reversal as follows: ‘Aesthetic igures and the style that creates them have nothing to do with rhetoric. They are sensations: percepts and affects, landscapes and faces, visions and becomings’ (1994: 177). 2. Deleuze describes passive synthesis as one which ‘is not carried out by the mind, but occurs in the mind’. They are passive as they do not presuppose an active agency on the part of the self-identical subject governed by a principle of ‘common sense’. Beneath active syntheses of thought there are passive syntheses of perception and farther beneath them still there are passive organic syntheses of metabolism; see Protevi (2010) and Deleuze (1994: 71, 73). 3. Rancière writes: ‘Aesthetics is central to politics as the social and political systems are founded on the distribution of the sensible (aesthetic regimes): forms of visibility, ways of doing and making and ways of conceptualising.’ We Northern Line 57 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. agree with Katharine Wolfe’s assertion that – despite Rancière’s denunciation of Deleuze’s philosophy in general and his theory of ‘imperceptibility’ in particular – he is much closer to Deleuze than generally thought; see Wolfe (2006). ‘What holds an assemblage together [what gives it consistency] is not the play of framing forms or linear causalities but, actually or potentially, its most deterritorialised component’ (Deleuze and Guattari 2004: 374); see also Williams (2000: 211–12). See Tamsin Lorraine: ‘Deleuze derives a notion of the living present as a contraction or synthesis of time from Hume: two moments (for example the tick-tock of a clock) are impressed upon the imagination which acts as a kind of sensitive plate that retains one moment (or one case of two moments) as the next appears. This results in a living present that is a synthesis of the past (the retention of preceding moments or cases, say two tick-tocks) and the future (anticipation that the next moment or case will be like the past, the expectation that yet another tick-tock will follow)’ (Lorraine 2003: 34). ‘Sex, Warhol, Television, Disney, Fellini, Resonance, God, Pornography, Therapy, Tarkowski, Politic, XTC, Money, [. . .]’ (van Berkel and Bos 1999a: 10–11). See van Berkel (2011). See van Berkel and Bos (2002: 38–9). The Midtown (NY) cross-section diagram is illustrative of the approach: low of passengers into Manhattan, low of passengers (subway), low of goods into Manhattan, actual building horizon, building height permitted by zoning. Cf. van Berkel and Bos (2002: 46–7). ‘Such is our inconsistency and impatience, which you could also say is an irrepressible belief in the imagination. This is why the unlikely coupling of art and airports to us represents a new statement, a igment, an appeal to an imagination that is both public and private and that cannot be ignored’; see Birnbaum and Lynn (2002: 21) (in conversation with Ben van Berkel and Caroline Bos). ‘When the present is a dimension of the past the process relating the two is different from when the past is a dimension of the present. With the past as prior, processes of making pass and changing relations in the pure past come to complement the process of contraction in the living present. There is therefore an extraordinary richness and potential for experimentation and applications in Deleuze’s philosophy of time’ (Williams 2011: 14). ‘The organless body attracts the organs, appropriates them for itself, and makes them function in a regime other than the one imposed by the organism, in such a way that each organ is the whole body – all the more so, given that the organ functions for itself and includes the functions of all the others. The organs are thus “miraculously” born on the organless body, obeying a machinic regime that should not be confused either with organic mechanism or with the organization of the organism’ (Deleuze 2006: 20). ‘Instinct perfected is a faculty of using and even of constructing organized instruments; intelligence perfected is the faculty of making and using unorganized instruments’ (Bergson 1998: 140). ‘The new doesn’t come from the future, it comes from the past. That’s what potentiality is: a mating of old existing events patterning into tendencies, an unfolding of events’ (Spuybroek 2008b: 164). In Nietzsche’s notion of the eternal return, all events communicate and no predicate is excluded in the event of events. This is a synthetic afirmative disjunction which spells death to the self, the world and God ‘to the advantage of divergent series as such, overlowing now every exclusion, every conjunction, and every connection’ (see Deleuze 1990: 176). 58 Deleuze and Architecture 15. In Roman mythology, Voluptas or Volupta was the beautiful daughter born from the union of Cupid and Psyche. She is one of the Charites, or Three Graces, and is known as the goddess of ‘sensual pleasures’ whose Latin name means ‘pleasure’ or ‘bliss’. 16. See Arie Graaland’s introduction to Architectural Bodies (Graaland 1996: 8–9). See also the statement by Deleuze and Guattari (2006: 88): ‘Our view presupposes only one economy [political and libidinal], and hence the problem [. . .] is to show how unconscious desire sexually invests the forms of this economy as a whole.’ 17. ‘If there is to be a “new urbanism” [. . .] it will no longer aim for stable conigurations but for the creation of enabling ields that accommodate processes that refuse to be crystallized into deinitive form; it will no longer be about meticulous deinition, the imposition of limits, but about expanding notions, denying boundaries, not about separating any identifying entities, but about discovering unnamable hybrids; it will no longer be obsessed with the city but with the manipulation of infrastructure for endless intensiications and diversiications, shortcuts and redistributions – the reinvention of psychological space’ (Koolhaas 1995: 961–9; emphasis added). 18. ‘Deleuze and Guattari characterized the bachelor machine as a machine of consumption, a gratiication that could be called auto-erotic [auto-affective]. This mechanical eroticism proclaims a new connection. A new power [Voluptas] is liberated’ (Graaland 1996: 64). 19. It is also important to recognise that for Deleuze and Guattari, ‘[T]he lived state [comes] irst, in relation to the subject that lives it’ (Deleuze and Guattari 2008: 40). 20. Whereas the socius is used to indicate social organisation at the level of the social-libidinal mode of production in Anti-Oedipus, in A Thousand Plateaus it is further reined to indicate a set of analytic tools that include: strata, instruments of capture, war-machines and regimes of signs. For an account of the socius situated in a critique of Koolhaas, see Graaland (2000: Part One). 21. Peirce coined the term ‘triadomany’ for such an over-reliance on trichotomies; see Peirce (1994: CP 1.569 Cross-Ref: ††). 22. It may be said that what distinguishes these approaches – connective, disjunctive and conjunctive – is at once their strength and weakness in respect of each other. That is to say that they become more susceptible to potential co-option by the dominant regime and fetishisation: the irst via the physical, the second via the semiotic and the third via the psychic. 23. The logic of relations is founded on this premise – the individual as power (puissance) – as well as on the independence of relation in relation to its terms; see Deleuze (1981). 24. ‘Abstract machines are always at work upon stratiied territories, constantly “setting things loose”, but at the same time, that which is deterritorialised, the “new” which is invented from the diagram, is constantly being put back to work, productively employed and “enveloped” again by the strata that surround it. Hence there is in fact, contra Somol and Whiting, no absolute opposition between the indexical/territorial and the diagrammatic/abstract . . .’ (Spencer 2009: 13; see also Kehne and Turko 2009). 25. While psychoanalysis settles on the imaginary and structural representatives of reterritorialisation, schizoanalysis follows the machinic indices of deterritorialisation; see Smith (2004: 635–50). Northern Line 59 References Abou-Rihan, F. (2011), Deleuze and Guattari: A Psychoanalytic Itinerary, London: Continuum. Bergson, H. ([1907] 1998), Creative Evolution, New York: Dover Publications. Betsky, A. (2002), ‘Unfolding the Forms of Unstudio’, in B. van Berkel and C. Bos, UN Studio – Unfold, ed. V. Patteeuw, Rotterdam: NAi Publishers, 6–13. Birnbaum, D. and G. Lynn (2002), ‘In conversation with Ben van Berkel and Caroline Bos: “Digital Conversation”’, in B. van Berkel and C. Bos, UN Studio – Unfold, ed. V. Patteeuw, Rotterdam: NAi Publishers, pp. 14–21. Bogue, R. (2003), Deleuze on Literature, London: Routledge. Deleuze, G. (1981), Cours Vincennes: ‘Spinoza’ (17 February 1981), <http://www. webdeleuze.com/php/texte.php?cle=38&groupe=Spinoza&langue=2> (accessed 20 June 2012). Deleuze, G. ([1969] 1990), The Logic of Sense, New York: Columbia University Press. Deleuze, G. ([1968] 1994), Difference and Repetition, New York: Columbia University Press. Deleuze, G. ([1993] 1997), ‘Spinoza and the Three “Ethics”’, in Essays Critical and Clinical, Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 138–51. Deleuze, G. (2006), Two Regimes of Madness: Texts and Interviews 1975–1995, ed. D. Lapoujade, Los Angeles: Semiotext(e). Deleuze, G. and F. Guattari ([1991] 1994), What Is Philosophy?, New York: Columbia University Press. Deleuze, G. and F. Guattari ([1980] 2004), A Thousand Plateaus, New York: Continuum. Deleuze, G. and F. Guattari ([1972] 2008), Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, New York: Penguin. Edelkoort, L. (2002), ‘In Free fall’, in B. van Berkel and C. Bos, UN Studio – Unfold, ed. V. Patteeuw, Rotterdam: NAi Publishers, pp. 96–7. Graaland, A. (1996), Architectural Bodies, Rotterdam: 010 Publishers. Graaland, A. (2000), The Socius of Architecture: Amsterdam, Tokyo, New York, Rotterdam: 010 Publishers. Guattari, F. (1995), ‘In Flux’, in Chaosophy/Félix Guattari, ed. S. Lotringer, Los Angeles: Autonomedia/Semiotext(e), pp. 69–89. Hays, K. M. (2010), Architecture’s Desire: Reading the Late Avant-garde, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Kehne, H., and J. Turko (eds) (2009), Relational Skins: Chronicling the Works of Diploma Unit 12 at the AA School London, Diploma 12, London. Kipnis, J. (2005), ‘Moneo’s Anxiety’, Harvard Design Magazine: On Criticism, pp. 97–104, available at <http://davidrifkind.org/iu/library_iles/14.%20On%20 Criticism-23.pdf> (accessed 6 October 2012). Koolhaas, R. (1978), Delirious New York: A Retroactive Manifesto for Manhattan, New York: Monacelli Press. Koolhaas, R. (1995) S, M, L, XL, eds OMA with Bruce Mau, New York: Monacelli Press. Koolhaas, R. (2000), ‘Interview by Jennifer Sigler’, Index Magazine, <http:// www.indexmagazine.com/interviews/rem_koolhaas.shtml> (accessed 20 June 2012). Lorraine, T. (2003), ‘Living a Time Out of Joint’, in P. Patton and J. Protevi (eds), Between Deleuze and Derrida, New York: Continuum, pp. 30–46. Massumi, B. (1993), A User’s Guide to ‘Capitalism and Schizophrenia’: Deviations from Deleuze and Guattari, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. 60 Deleuze and Architecture Massumi, B. (2006), ‘Transforming Digital Architecture from Virtual to Neuro: An Interview by Thomas Markussen and Thomas Birch’, intelligent agent, 5: 2, <http://www.intelligentagent.com/archive/Vol5_No2_massumi_markussen+birch. htm> (accessed 20 June 2012). Peirce, C. (1994), Collected Papers of Charles Sanders Peirce: The Electronic Edition 1994, reproducing Vols I–VI [1931–5], eds C. Hartshorne and P. Weiss, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Protevi, J. (2010), ‘Deleuze, Jonas, and Thompson: Toward a New Transcendental Aesthetic and a New Question of Panpsychism’, Montreal: SPEP, <http://protevi. com/john/research.html> (accessed 20 June 2012). Radman, A. (forthcoming), ‘Architecture’s Awaking from Correlationist Slumber: On Transdisciplinarity and Disciplinary Speciicity’, Footprint, 11. Rancière, J. ([2000] 2004), The Politics of Aesthetics: The Distribution of the Sensible, trans. G. Rockhill, London: Continuum. Smith, C. and A. Ballantyne (2010), ‘Flow: Architecture, Object and Relation’, Architectural Research Quarterly, 14: 1, 21–7. Smith, D. W. (2004), ‘The Inverse Side of the Structure: Žižek on Deleuze on Lacan’, Criticism, 46: 4, 635–50. Somol, R. (1999), ‘Dummy Text, or The Diagrammatic Basis of Contemporary Architecture’, in P. Eisenman, Diagram Diaries, New York: Universe Publishing, pp. 6–25. Spencer, D. (2009), ‘The Critical Matter of the Diagram’, in H. Kehne and J. T. Spencer (eds), Relational Skins, London: Lulu, pp. 9–21. Spuybroek, L. (1998), ‘Motor Geometry’, Architectural Design, 68: 5–6, 48–55. Spuybroek, L. (2007), ‘The Aesthetics of Variation’ (an interview by Arjen Mulder), in J. Brouwer and A. Mulder (eds), Interact or Die!, Rotterdam: V2 Pub./NAi, pp. 132–51. Spuybroek, L. (2008), The Architecture of Continuity: Essays and Conversations, Rotterdam: V2/NAI Publishers, pp. 12–31. Spuybroek, L. (2011), The Sympathy of Things: Ruskin and the Ecology of Design, Rotterdam: V2 Pub./NAi. van Berkel, B. (2011), ‘The New Understanding’, Kenzo Tange Lecture at Harvard University, Graduate School of Design, 3 March, <http://harvard.vo.llnwd.net/ o18/gsd/03032011_Berkel.mp4> (accessed 20 June 2012). van Berkel, B. and C. Bos (1994), ‘Corporal Compactness’, in K. Feireiss (ed.), Ben van Berkel: Mobile Forces = Mobile Kräfte, Berlin: Ernst & Sohn, pp. 176–81. van Berkel, B. and C. Bos (1999a), Move: (1) Imagination: Liquid Politic, Amsterdam: UN Studio & Goose Press. van Berkel, B. and C. Bos (1999b), Move: (2) Techniques: Network Spin, Amsterdam: UN Studio & Goose Press. van Berkel, B. and C. Bos (2002), ‘Deep Planning’, in B. van Berkel and C. Bos, UN Studio – Unfold, ed. V. Patteeuw, Rotterdam: NAi Publishers, pp. 38–9. van Dijk, H. (2005), ‘Critical Project or the Project of Criticism?’, in H. Bekkering, D. Hauptman et al. (eds), The Architectural Annual 2003–2004, Rotterdam: 010 Publishers, pp. 68–75. Williams, J. (2000), ‘Deleuze’s Ontology and Creativity: Becoming in Architecture’, Pli, 9, 200–19. Williams, J. (2011), Gilles Deleuze’s Philosophy of Time: A Critical Introduction and Guide, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Wolfe, K. (2006), ‘From Aesthetics to Politics: Rancière, Kant and Deleuze’, Contemporary Aesthetics, 4, <http://www.contempaesthetics.org/newvolume/ pages/article.php?articleID=382> (accessed 20 June 2012).