Landscript 1: Landscape Vision Motion
ISBN 978-3-86859-210-8
ISBN 978-3-86859-210-8
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L a n d s c r i p t is a publication on<br />
landscape aesthetics inviting authors<br />
from different disciplines to invest<br />
some thought on established modes of<br />
perceiving, representing, and conceiving<br />
nature. Steered by an editorial board<br />
comprised of international experts<br />
from various fields of visual studies,<br />
landscape design research, as well as<br />
sociology and philosophy, its goal is<br />
to act as a revelator of conventional<br />
perceptions of landscape and to<br />
cultivate the debate on landscape<br />
aesthetics at a scholarly level. This<br />
discussion platform aims at rekindling<br />
a theoretical debate, in the hope of<br />
fostering a better understanding of the<br />
immanence of landscape architecture<br />
in our culture, focusing critically on<br />
the way we think, look, and act upon<br />
sites and nonsites today.<br />
Professor Christophe Girot, Albert Kirchengast (Chief Editors)<br />
Institute of <strong>Landscape</strong> Architecture ILA, D–A RCH, ETH Zurich
Editori a l Boa rd<br />
LANDSCRIPT 1<br />
Annemarie Bucher, ZHdK Zurich<br />
Elena Cogato Lanza, EPF Lausanne<br />
Stanislaus Fung, UNSW Sydney<br />
Dorothée Imbert, Washington University in St. Louis<br />
Sébastien Marot, Ecole d’Architecture Marne-la-Vallee, Paris<br />
Volker Pantenburg, Bauhaus-Universität Weimar<br />
Alessandra Ponte, Université de Montréal<br />
Christian Schmid, ETH Zurich<br />
Ralph Ubl, eikones NFS Bildkritik Basel<br />
Charles Waldheim, Harvard GSD<br />
Kongjian Yu, Peking University<br />
<strong>Landscape</strong> <strong>Vision</strong> <strong>Motion</strong><br />
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES<br />
Manuscript proposals are welcome in elds appropriate<br />
for <strong>Landscript</strong>. Scholarly submissions should be<br />
formatted in accordance with The Chicago Manual of<br />
Style and the spelling should follow American convention.<br />
The full manuscript must be submitted as a Microsoft<br />
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sent as TIFF les with a resolution of at least 300 dpi<br />
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clearly in the text. Image captions and credits must be<br />
included with submissions. It is the responsibility of the<br />
author to secure permissions for image use and pay any<br />
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biography must also accompany the text.<br />
Acceptance or rejection of submissions is at the discretion<br />
of the editors. Please do not send original materials, as<br />
submissions will not be returned.<br />
Please direct submissions to this address:<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong><br />
Chair of Professor Christophe Girot<br />
Institute of <strong>Landscape</strong> Architecture ILA, ETH Zurich<br />
Wolfgang-Pauli-Strasse 15, HIL H 54.2<br />
8093 Zurich, Switzerland<br />
Questions about submissions can be emailed to:<br />
kirchengast@arch.ethz.ch<br />
Visit our website for further information:<br />
www.girot.arch.ethz.ch
Christophe Girot<br />
Fred Truniger (EDs.)<br />
<strong>Landscape</strong><br />
<strong>Vision</strong><br />
<strong>Motion</strong><br />
Christophe Girot was born in Paris in 1957. He<br />
is Professor and Chair of the Institute of <strong>Landscape</strong><br />
Architecture at the Architecture Department of the<br />
ETH in Zurich. His teaching and research interests<br />
span new topological methods in landscape design,<br />
landscape perception, and analysis through new media,<br />
and contemporary theory and history of landscape<br />
architecture. He cofounded the <strong>Landscape</strong> Visualizing<br />
and Modeling Laboratory (LV ML) at the ETH in 2010.<br />
His professional practice focuses on large-scale landscape<br />
projects, using advanced 3D GIS techniques that<br />
contribute to the design of adaptive and sustainable<br />
landscape environments.<br />
Fred Truniger is a lm scholar and curator.<br />
He studied Film and German Studies at the University<br />
of Zurich and the Freie Universität in Berlin and<br />
received his PhD from the ETH Zurich in <strong>Landscape</strong><br />
Architecture. He is the head of the research focus<br />
“Visual Narrative” at the School of Art and Design of<br />
the Lucerne University of Applied Sciences and Arts.<br />
Visual Thinking in<br />
<strong>Landscape</strong> Culture
Ta ble of Contents<br />
Foreword<br />
C h r i s t o p h e G i r o t<br />
13<br />
[A]<br />
Provisional Notes on <strong>Landscape</strong> Representation<br />
and Digital Media<br />
C h a r l e s Wa l d h e i m<br />
Another Green World<br />
E e l c o H o o f t m a n<br />
Going to Measures—Cultivating and<br />
Appreciating the Contemporary <strong>Landscape</strong>s<br />
J a n i k e K a m p e v o l d L a r s e n<br />
21<br />
37<br />
63<br />
[B]<br />
The Return of Proximity<br />
E l e n a C o g a t o L a n z a Translation: David Mason / Architran<br />
Urban Cuttings: Sections and Crossings<br />
F r é d é r i c P o u s i n Translation: Céline Mansanti<br />
81<br />
101<br />
[C]<br />
Panoramique—Panning over <strong>Landscape</strong>s<br />
Vo l k e r P a n t e n b u r g Translation: Ben Letzler<br />
121
Travelling Warrior and Complete Urbanization<br />
in Switzerland: <strong>Landscape</strong> as Lived Space<br />
C h r i s t i a n S c h m i d Translation: Cecile Brouillaud<br />
The Environmental Self and its Travels<br />
Through Imaginary <strong>Landscape</strong>s<br />
R o b i n C u r t i s<br />
Between Topic and Topography:<br />
The <strong>Landscape</strong>s of Eric Rohmer<br />
S é b a s t i e n M a r o t<br />
Authors<br />
139<br />
157<br />
175<br />
203<br />
Appendix
Foreword<br />
C h r i s t o p h e G i r o t<br />
This rst issue of <strong>Landscript</strong>, entitled <strong>Landscape</strong><br />
<strong>Vision</strong> <strong>Motion</strong>, brings together knowledge from different<br />
professions, inuencing the evolution of landscape<br />
thinking—such as architecture, lm, video, sociology,<br />
geography, and history. It is a collection of ideas about<br />
landscape, taking effect not only at the level of planning<br />
and design, but also of vision and image making.<br />
The interaction between landscape and image has<br />
evolved over the course of history, with progress in visual<br />
thinking in many cases setting a conceptual precedent in<br />
anticipation of design. <strong>Landscape</strong> traditions have often<br />
relied on a combination of word and image to brand landscapes<br />
with deeper symbolic meaning. But the present<br />
medial condition does not reect the immense impact of<br />
digital reality on our collective perception of landscape.<br />
A deep schism has arisen between established forms of<br />
pictorial convention in landscape, and the substantive<br />
dematerialization of our imagination through time-based<br />
media. <strong>Landscript</strong> is here just to remind us of the intricacies<br />
in our way of seeing, thinking, and projecting.<br />
<strong>Landscape</strong> <strong>Vision</strong> <strong>Motion</strong> is an anthology opened by<br />
Charles Waldheim. In his text, he asserts that mapping<br />
and cartography have gradually reached the limits of<br />
their own success. He proposes that the use of video and<br />
a new form of landscape representation, which he calls<br />
13
Provisional Notes on <strong>Landscape</strong><br />
Representation and Digital Media<br />
C h a r l e s Wa l d h e i m<br />
© President and Fellows of Harvard College (the legal entity).<br />
In much of the most interesting practices of contemporary<br />
landscape representation, the two dominant historic<br />
paradigms of landscape representation in the West—the<br />
synoptic model and the scenario-based sequence of<br />
views—intersect in new hybrid forms. The idea of georeferenced<br />
data and photography interpolated from crowd<br />
sourcing is an interesting new development on what has<br />
been a half-century of digital development in complex<br />
mimetic models of natural and cultural landscapes. On<br />
the other hand, there has of course been a very strong<br />
tradition—some would say origin—of landscape in the<br />
West based on the painting or view. Both of those models<br />
of landscape representation, the synoptic that aspires<br />
to model the world and the scenario-based that seeks<br />
to construct a narrative in it, predate contemporary<br />
interests in digital media. Both models have also<br />
benetted from decades of development through explicitly<br />
digital computational platforms. Both of these dominant<br />
representational paradigms are going through their own<br />
internal transitions, and there is much interest in the<br />
potential for overlaps and intersections between the two.<br />
A surface interpolated with SYMAP 3. Source: Red Book 1966, page I3, Harvard<br />
University Graduate School of Design.<br />
The synoptic paradigm of modeling is increasingly<br />
moving from a history of government controlled, highly<br />
militarized, centralized top-down modeling toward an<br />
increasingly open sourced promiscuity of reference. At<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 20<br />
21
Courtesy of the Artist and Donald Young Gallery, Chicago.<br />
Joshua Mosley: Dread, 2007. Mixed media animation, 6 minutes. Edition of ve.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 32 33
Another Green World<br />
E e l c o H o o f t m a n , GROSS. M A X.<br />
“To think is to speculate with images.”<br />
Giordano Bruno<br />
“I have had a dispute lately … on an absurd vulgar<br />
opinion, which he holds—that we see with our eyes:<br />
whereas I assert, that our eyes are only mere glass<br />
windows, and we see with our imagination.”<br />
William Gilpin<br />
<strong>Landscape</strong> can reconcile opposite forces: Apollo and<br />
Bacchus, classic and romantic, articial and natural,<br />
growth and decay, beauty and sublime. It may be dened<br />
as a state of continuous becoming—never quite started<br />
and never quite nished. Not an object but a process. For<br />
GROSS. M A X. the very act of landscape architecture<br />
is not unlike taking off on a reconnaissance ight above<br />
unknown territory whilst ying, undetected below the<br />
radar of styles. We are ying—exalted to a kind of<br />
omniscience—no longer on automatic pilot but navigating<br />
on our own visual faculty. The world below: a multitude of<br />
vividly moving lines and gures; calligraphy intertwined<br />
with cartography.<br />
The creation of the eighteenth century landscape garden<br />
occurred as antidote to the absolute garden and emerged<br />
during a transitional period from rational classicism to<br />
37
Jacob Isaakszoon van Ruisdael, Meadows near Haarlem, 1674.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 48 49
Sense of <strong>Vision</strong><br />
Pandora Box<br />
18 Hume, David:<br />
A Treatise of Human<br />
Nature.Penguin Classics<br />
London 1985, p. 301, rst<br />
published 1739.<br />
19 William Shenstone:<br />
“Unconnected Thoughts<br />
on Gardening” (1718),<br />
published in: The Works in<br />
Verse and Prose of William<br />
Shenstone. London 1766,<br />
Vol. 11, p. 131.<br />
20 Richard Payne Knight,<br />
The <strong>Landscape</strong>: A Didactic<br />
Poem in Three Books,<br />
London 1799 p. 19.<br />
21 Keats John: “Ode to<br />
Psyche” (1819), published<br />
in: The Oxford Book of<br />
English Verse: 1250–1900,<br />
edited by Arthur Quiller-<br />
Couch, Oxford 1919.<br />
22 Tafuri, Manfred:<br />
Teorie e storia<br />
dell’architettura. Bari<br />
1968.<br />
The Scottish enlightenment philosopher David Hume<br />
observed, that “the mind is a kind of theatre, where<br />
several perceptions successively make their appearance;<br />
pass, re-pass, glide away and mingle in an innite variety<br />
of postures and situations.” —18 Hume’s description of the<br />
mind reads as a stroll along the winding English Garden<br />
path with changing perspectives and a mosaic of views;<br />
an English garden path which twists and turns and<br />
doubles back on its tracks. On of the key party tricks in<br />
the design of the English Garden is, that “the foot should<br />
never travel by the same path which the eye has travelled<br />
over before.” —19 Richard Payne Knight, who also dened<br />
the subjectivist foundations of the picturesque, refers<br />
to the “spontaneous association of ideas triggered by an<br />
object or view presented to the eye, not felt by the organic<br />
sense of vision, but by the intellect and imagination<br />
through that sense.” —20 <strong>Landscape</strong> scenes therefore were<br />
created not only to please the eye, but above all to excite<br />
the imagination and produce sensations of grandeur,<br />
melancholy, gaiety and sublimity. John Ruskin who<br />
identied the picturesque as a genuinely modern aesthetic<br />
category, in The Seven Lamps of Architecture called it<br />
however the “pathetic fallacy,” the belief that the landscape<br />
might be made to mirror the emotional state of the<br />
person found within it. A new generation of poets spearheaded<br />
the landscape experience. Coleridge coined the<br />
word “psycho-analytic” and Keats, in his ‘Ode to Psyche’,<br />
navigates the garden as a kind of mental map describing<br />
the garden space as “in some untrodden region of my<br />
mind” where “branched thoughts” create a picturesque<br />
landscape, the work of the “gardener Fancy.” —21 Manfred<br />
Tafuri suggested in his Teorie e storia dell’architettura<br />
from 1968 to apply the term psychological gardens rather<br />
than landscape gardens, so obvious is it that they reect<br />
the innermost soul of a period whose contradictions<br />
continue to fascinate us. —22<br />
<strong>Landscape</strong> as a psychological garden has turned all<br />
failed attempts of an objective enlightenment landscape<br />
analysis back into dark the realms of subjective landscape<br />
psychoanalysis—a wonderful Pandora Box of repressed<br />
earthly delights. For ‘Architecture International<br />
Rotterdam 2001’ we were asked to transform an elevated<br />
railway into a public promenade, with hindsight a kind<br />
of prototype version of The High-line in New York. The<br />
project proposals included a large glass house superimposed<br />
on the remains of the former Hofplein railway<br />
station. The minimalist architecture of the glass box is<br />
in strong contrast to the organic orgy of orchid owers<br />
it contains. At night the glasshouse is transformed<br />
into a light-box with gigantic shadow projections of<br />
exotic plants displayed on its outer skin. A dazzling<br />
kaleidoscopic image of nature perfected in hybrid owers,<br />
mutant foliage and genetically modied fruits: landscape<br />
Architecture as skillful, accurate, and magnicent interplay<br />
of assembled vegetation under light. Our key image<br />
for the project displays the glasshouse as hedonistic<br />
pleasure zone not unlike the illustrious public wintergardens<br />
in Berlin, Paris and Vienna. Only recently<br />
we encountered a series of orchid paintings by Martin<br />
Johnson Heade. We were struck with their remarkable<br />
similarity. —23 The contrast between the close-up ower<br />
juxtaposed against the wide angled landscape, the use<br />
of dramatic sky, the colors slightly oversaturated. Not<br />
to forget the overtly symbolism of the orchid’s sexual<br />
connotation and the part played by the bird in the ower’s<br />
reproductive process. Could the missing link between the<br />
painting and our image been an essay written by George<br />
Bataille entitled The Language of Flowers? In this essay<br />
on the symbolic nature of the ower is a revealing text<br />
wherein he draws parallels between the anatomy of the<br />
ower and the human body as well as his interpretation<br />
of the nature of seduction, beauty, love, and death as<br />
23 The paintings by<br />
Martin Johnston Hyde<br />
were only relative recently<br />
been recovered from old<br />
garages and car boot sales.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 58<br />
59
Going to Measures—Cultivating and<br />
Appreciating the Contemporary <strong>Landscape</strong>s<br />
J a n i k e K a m p e v o l d L a r s e n<br />
“The soul’s engineer measures the universe with a<br />
teaspoon.” This line in a poem by Norwegian poet Tone<br />
Hødnebø refers both to T. S. Eliot’s “I have measured out<br />
my life with coffee spoons,” in The love song of J. Alfred<br />
Prufrock, and to the rather unknown Russian Zhdanov<br />
who once called poets the engineers of the soul. —1<br />
The soul’s engineers are writers and artists, and their<br />
measurement is tedious, connected to the slow temporal<br />
structure at the human scale of sipping tea. In Hødnebø’s<br />
poetic universe, this is one of many individual measuring<br />
strategies. For her, human orientation involves a desire<br />
to measure out, order, and plan the surrounding, while<br />
still suffering the frustration of the imprecision of the<br />
human consciousness, reected in tilted plans, dislocated<br />
arches, an architecture distorted by imagery, uncertainty,<br />
and speculation—not unlike Eisenstein’s “explosion” of<br />
Piranesi’s Carcere with staircase ascending to the left. —2<br />
Individual experiences tend to disrupt architectural<br />
procedure. They also tend to alter landscapes, noticing<br />
other qualities than those revealed by a representation<br />
based on preconceived notions of what is a landscape.<br />
By the mid-nineteenth century, the Grand Canyon was<br />
still not part of the American geographical and aesthetic<br />
consciousness. The area had been “discovered,” it had<br />
been visited by Spanish explorers as early as 1540,<br />
1 Hødnebø, Tone:<br />
Et lykkelig øyeblikk (A<br />
Happy Moment), Selection<br />
and afterword by Janike<br />
Kampevold Larsen. Oslo<br />
2005, p. 19.<br />
2 Piranesi, Giovanni<br />
Battista: Carceri, plate<br />
X I V. 1760. Sergej<br />
Eisenstein performs a<br />
transguration of two<br />
of Piranesi’s etchings.<br />
Eisenstein, Sergej: “On<br />
the uidity of forms.”<br />
In: Oppositions, No. 11.<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts<br />
1977.<br />
63
we relate to by habit simply by looking at them differently.<br />
In the ETH videos, landscapes are lmed up close,<br />
unfolding beneath and before the sightline of the moving<br />
subject. The ground being so acutely present in most<br />
of them effectively challenges a tradition of landscape<br />
representation that has focused on static representation<br />
of the vertical scenery. Let us look at four videos in some<br />
detail.<br />
pulled through, is a commonplace rural landscape, its<br />
typology familiar. But the gaze that is inaugurated at<br />
the landing strip meets no resistance in matter; it is a<br />
gaze that maybe desires to see to the bottom of things,<br />
to obsolete the distance between mind and object, while<br />
in fact it moves on and on, indenitely. The view is thus<br />
deconstructed by movement.<br />
Short Cut (Janine Koch, Philip Hegnauer, 2006) begins at an<br />
airport eld and moves towards the horizon or vanishing<br />
point. It picks up speed as it advances towards the beginning<br />
of a runway, blasts through some cages and rubble,<br />
and approaches a wooded area. We realize it is not going<br />
to stop. It proceeds through the woods, a hedge, and a<br />
chicken fence, emerges on the other side of fence and hedge<br />
and runs down an alley, along a row of houses, along the<br />
middle of the straight road, cars lined on one side, into the<br />
darkness of some underbrush and shrubs, across a street<br />
and into community gardens, straight through a small<br />
hill and a corneld, further on towards a house at the end<br />
of the eld, then through the house—in which we pick<br />
up reminiscences of a conversation—and gardens until<br />
it ends up in a wide eld of pine wood, bare and straight<br />
trunks. All this happens in less than a minute in an<br />
experiment that records an impossible gaze at high speed;<br />
we get the impression of moving with the gaze, its speed of<br />
light extension along one probing straight line.<br />
What is the gaze that is being suggested here? The<br />
landscape looked at, which the spectator is also being<br />
Nature—Roundabout III (Roman Loretan, Gianni Traxler, 2004)<br />
features a car, or perhaps two, as one car seems to be<br />
observed from another car. At least the moving eye circles<br />
a pond with a view to the car, also circling the same<br />
site. The cycle becomes repeated but the constellation<br />
and rhythm of the elements in view change according to<br />
where the cars are in relation to each other, and elements<br />
always in the eld separating them: the pond, a weeping<br />
willow, some shrubs, etc. The scene resembles a merrygo-round<br />
only with natural elements, and the video does<br />
nothing but cultivate the pleasure of motion by car, the<br />
continuous rearrangement of elements always producing<br />
new views and tableaus. The cultivation is also a measurement,<br />
indicated by the repeated circumvention of the<br />
pond, which draws a circle of sorts.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 68<br />
69
The Return of Proximity<br />
Elena Cogato Lanza<br />
With the design and performance of the “Post-Kyoto”<br />
sustainable city, characterized by the twin imperatives<br />
of a reduction in the transportation of people and goods<br />
and a densication of existing built fabric, we are<br />
witnessing a return to the theme of “proximity.” We refer<br />
to proximity, at its most basic, in a spatial and metrical<br />
sense, but also more broadly in the sense of individual<br />
and social praxis, as a sphere that will increasingly play<br />
host to an ever greater portion of our everyday lives. In<br />
our individual and collective choices, as well as in urban<br />
policy, space matters again.<br />
Throughout the twentieth century, proximity, in<br />
theoretical and design terms, essentially developed in two<br />
directions: rst, as an ordered, balanced arrangement<br />
of “neighborhood units” within a hierarchical territory;<br />
second, and in critical opposition to this, in the hypothesis<br />
by which spatial conguration is seen as totally<br />
independent of social practices. The latter, being reticular<br />
in character, include practices that might be described as<br />
proximal insofar as they are characterized by relations<br />
of familiarity, but that cannot be tied to a precisely<br />
measured area or specic articulations linking residential,<br />
service, and open spaces. As we will see in this article,<br />
the critique of the neighborhood unit model has also<br />
occurred by way of an opposition of certain photographic<br />
representations of the urban landscape and of social<br />
81
Finn Geipel, Giulia Andi, redesigning the relationships between transit system and<br />
morphology. Source: LIN + Fabio Casiroli Systematica.<br />
By means of these social condensers, clusters, or<br />
supérettes, the city develops a response to society’s aspirations<br />
and delivers practicable and convenient day-to-day<br />
solutions, whether in terms of accessibility or visibility,<br />
that relate effectively to the home-work relay and supply<br />
setting. The soft metropolis, a mixed, multipolar entity<br />
that oscillates between denser and looser textures, is<br />
an accessible city, a city of “short distances.” For the<br />
optimum organization of human and commercial trafc<br />
around the major corridors set up by railway infrastructure<br />
around the region, LIN proposes developing rapid<br />
tangential links and micro-mobility: a BRT (Bus Rapid<br />
Transit) system for routes up to a maximum range of<br />
fteen kilometers and small individual systems of feeders<br />
and shuttle buses with a range of up to three kilometers.<br />
The polycentrism put forward by Rogers Stirk Harbour<br />
and Partners is in perfect continuity with the ideology of<br />
the equilibrated Garden City. —13 A diagrammatic articulation<br />
in the form of rays that are pertinent on different<br />
scales—locality / neighborhood / district / town / city in an<br />
outwardly developing progression from a radius of 200<br />
meters to 5 kilometers, read as an assembly of Russian<br />
dolls—respects the measure established by a tradition<br />
that extends from Howard and Perry through the New<br />
Towns to Rogers’ own London master plan. Calmly<br />
indifferent to the criticisms aimed at the neighborhood<br />
unit as a segregative model, the Rogers group sees the<br />
pertinence of technical instruments in strictly pragmatic<br />
terms. This “urbanism of models” is anchored spatially<br />
within the Paris agglomeration, fused with it through<br />
a specic design theme: that of the transformation of<br />
radial rail routes. These linear elements, which at present<br />
compartmentalize the region into isolated sectors, are to<br />
become the new metropolitan “armatures” (Rogers) to<br />
be constructed over the railway area as multifunctional<br />
platforms ostensibly serving as energy devices. These<br />
armatures will enable the permeability rate across<br />
the metropolis to approach that of Paris intra-muros,<br />
13 Arup; London<br />
School of Economics and<br />
political science: Paris<br />
Métropole. Le dessin de<br />
l’agglomération parisienne<br />
du futur, rapport nal de<br />
la consultation. London<br />
2009.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 92<br />
93
Urban Cuttings: Sections and Crossings<br />
F r é d é r i c P o u s i n<br />
With the development of urbanization, and metropolises<br />
in particular, large-scale urban projects have become<br />
the rule. Indeed, when intervening on a territory, as<br />
small as it may be, it is necessary to work within a larger,<br />
integrating framework, while bringing solutions to the<br />
local issues the project originates from. Breaking away<br />
from the idea of boundaries at work in a certain type of<br />
operational urbanism, and going beyond a mere response<br />
to a diagnosis, such an inscription requires a dynamic<br />
conception of the territory based on the notions of routes<br />
and crossings, and involves several time and space<br />
scales. Today, these strategies are at the core of a debate<br />
involving many disciplinary elds such as architecture,<br />
urbanism, geography and landscaping: they appeal to<br />
many cartographic, photographic, and videographic<br />
practices and create new tools. —1 Among these tools, the<br />
urban transect will be of special interest, because it led to<br />
many experiments and investigations, some of which are<br />
presented here. —2<br />
From the point of view of representation, the urban<br />
transect cuts across the space presenting its vertical<br />
dispositions, unlike the map, which is the result of a<br />
projection on a horizontal surface. Such a shift not only<br />
implies a change in the representation of space; it also<br />
requires a different turn of mind and a different relationship<br />
to space. The map requires a global vision, whereas<br />
1 See the responses to<br />
the international consulting<br />
on the metropolitan<br />
future of Greater Paris, in<br />
particular those of Studio<br />
09, Bernardo Secchi / Paola<br />
Vigano, A MC Le Moniteur<br />
Architecture, le Grand<br />
Pari(s). International consulting<br />
on the future of the<br />
Parisian metropolis, 2009.<br />
2 See Tixier, Nicolas<br />
(Ed.): L’Ambiance est<br />
dans l’air. La dimension<br />
atmosphérique des ambiances<br />
architecturales et<br />
urbaines dans les approches<br />
environnementales, investigation<br />
led by Pir Ville<br />
et Environnement, Fall<br />
2008–Spring 2010. Vol. I,<br />
p. 67 p., vol. II, p. 49.<br />
See as well the response of<br />
Team Bazar urbain / Contrepoint<br />
/ Groupe chronos /<br />
Zoom to the 2011 consulting<br />
Amiens Metropolis, a<br />
Project for Everyday Life<br />
on Amiens 2030 Metropolitan<br />
Project.<br />
101
Architectural Review, vol. 117, n° 702, June 1955. Architectural Review, vol. 117, n° 702, June 1955.<br />
The representation device is complex, and cannot be<br />
summed up by a route map. Through more than sixty<br />
pages, the route is broken down in a series of sections<br />
illustrated by photographs and captioned by a journalistic<br />
text characterizing the places and phenomena and<br />
commenting when necessary on the photographs. In one<br />
section, a historical survey allows for the chronological<br />
visualization of urban sprawl over twenty-ve square<br />
miles—a ve-mile-long square. A series of maps from<br />
the 1786 royal maps to 1952 show its evolution from<br />
isolated farms to twentieth-century military facilities<br />
and Warrington city’s industrial fringes.<br />
This is not a route map but a section, since the representation<br />
gives access to a historical depth. The section is<br />
organized around two main axes, the longitudinal axis<br />
and the perpendicular axis of depth.<br />
Crossing and Traveling<br />
With the crossing as well as with the section, space is no<br />
longer a at surface to be understood extensively. The<br />
section is a cross representation associating spaces in<br />
several dimensions without producing any territorialization.<br />
In the nineteen-fties and nineteen-sixties, Pierre<br />
Chombart de Lawe’s urban sociology and the Situationists’<br />
psycho-geography —28 designed an urban cartography<br />
28 For more information<br />
on these movements<br />
see Palma, Riccardo:<br />
“Détournements. Les<br />
gures cartographiques<br />
de la géographie dans le<br />
projet architectural.” In:<br />
Pousin, Frédéric: Figures<br />
de la ville et construction<br />
des savoirs. Paris 2005,<br />
pp. 86–94.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 112<br />
113
4 See Schwarzer, Mitchell:<br />
Zoomscape. Architecture<br />
in <strong>Motion</strong> and Media,<br />
New York 2004.<br />
Schwarzer’s term—that connect image, landscape, and<br />
a mobile recording unit to one another, creating uid<br />
transitions. —4 In over a hundred years of lm history, an<br />
immense variety of options has emerged to put spaces and<br />
landscapes in motion.<br />
In view of the numerous ways of lming landscapes—<br />
from land, from water, by air—it may make sense to<br />
come back to one of the basic operations underlying many<br />
more complex techniques of the cinematographic depiction<br />
of the landscape: the horizontal panning motion of a<br />
camera that is itself stationary, sweeping uniformly over<br />
a landscape. There is an afnity between the pan and the<br />
landscape, and I wish to explore certain implications of<br />
this afnity in what follows.<br />
5 See Truniger, Fred:<br />
Filmic Mapping. Documentary<br />
Film and the Visual<br />
Culture of <strong>Landscape</strong><br />
Architecture. Berlin 2012.<br />
II<br />
For many years, like everyone else interested in the<br />
cinema, I have seen lms with pans. However, it was<br />
not until I saw Gerhard Friedl’s lms Knittelfeld and<br />
Hat Wolff von Amerongen Konkursdelikte begangen?<br />
(AUT 1997 and 2004), that I really paid attention to this<br />
specic operation. In these two lms, the pan is revealed<br />
in its full clarity and mystery. The lms are made<br />
possible, one can say without exaggeration, in part by the<br />
simple fact that pans exist; that the slow panning motion<br />
is one of the tools in the toolbox of cinematographic<br />
operations. Friedl’s lms are landscape lms; more than<br />
that, they are pan lms. —5<br />
My initial question is, what is a pan, or better: what<br />
makes a pan? To what regime of the gaze is it linked,<br />
into which historical constellations and genealogies is it<br />
inscribed? What is it good for, how does it cut parts out<br />
of the visible world and exclude others, intentionally or<br />
inadvertently?<br />
Stills from the lm Hat Wolff von Amerongen Konkursdelikte begangen? 2004.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 122 123
Travelling Warrior and Complete Urbanization<br />
in Switzerland: <strong>Landscape</strong> as Lived Space<br />
C h r i s t i a n S c h m i d<br />
The point of departure for this text is a lm by Christian<br />
Schocher, produced in 1979 and which had its premiere in<br />
1981. At the time, the lm was a sensation—at least for<br />
the few who saw it. The limited audience and showings<br />
was not surprising for a black and white lm over three<br />
hours long in which a man drives through the countryside<br />
and not much else happens. Yet this is a historic lm<br />
because it captured, for the rst time, an essential trend<br />
of contemporary Switzerland: the complete urbanization<br />
of society.<br />
This expression draws on one of the most famous<br />
hypotheses in urban studies, the opening line of French<br />
philosopher and theoretician Henri Lefebvre’s groundbreaking<br />
1970 book La révolution urbaine (English:<br />
The Urban Revolution, 2003). This thesis formulates a<br />
tendency, at the time apparent only on a distant horizon,<br />
which would soon become a dening reality. Lefebvre<br />
understands urbanization in a double sense: on the one<br />
hand, urbanization increasingly encompasses broad<br />
areas of society; on the other, the urban fabric continues<br />
to extend itself into new territories, transforming both<br />
historical cities and previously rural areas.<br />
All stills from the lm Reisender Krieger, 1981.<br />
The lm is a particular form of semi-documentary. The<br />
central character is an actor who takes us on a journey<br />
139
One aspect of the aesthetic of the lm is strongly characteristic<br />
of a specic historic representation of urban<br />
space, and this is one of the reasons the lm’s impact is<br />
less powerful now than it was at the time it was released.<br />
Although only thirty years old, the lm presents what<br />
seems like an entirely different urban world. Reisender<br />
Krieger was shot on 16mm lm, and while Grauzone<br />
was produced in 35mm and Züri brännt was shot on<br />
video, the lms achieve very similar forms of aesthetic<br />
expression in their use of black and white. The gray that<br />
dominates these lms serves as a way of expressing a<br />
certain experience and inducing a specic feeling. This<br />
is not the clear and contrasting black and white we know<br />
from movie classics, nor is it the gloom of Film Noir. It<br />
is a foggy, blurry black and white used to show a kind of<br />
blurred urban gray zone conquering the whole landscape<br />
and transforming it. It is more a kind of gray-on-gray,<br />
an absence of color and thus also of life. “Living,” it<br />
seems, has fallen prey to urbanization, and it must be<br />
won back.<br />
Of course, technology is also partly to blame for this<br />
aesthetic. Züri brännt was produced with the semiprofessional<br />
mobile equipment available at the time—relatively<br />
heavy, but still portable video equipment with black and<br />
white cameras; affordable color cameras were only just<br />
arriving on the market. The relatively low resolution<br />
of the tube cameras, and the technical shortcomings of<br />
recording techniques and post-production caused the<br />
ultimately sluggish, blurry images that icker across<br />
the screen—very typical of the aesthetics of the video<br />
movement at the time. In Reisender Krieger, the high<br />
exposure tolerance of black and white lm, in contrast to<br />
color, undoubtedly also played an important role in the<br />
choice of this lm stock. The new 16mm black and white<br />
lm was relatively sensitive to light, and even enabled<br />
some night lming without additional lighting, but it<br />
was relatively coarse-grained, contributing further to the<br />
gray effect. In Grauzone, on the other hand, there was<br />
no technical reason for the choice of black and white; as<br />
a 35mm production, it had a full spectrum of technical<br />
means available to it. Here, the decision was made purely<br />
on the basis of aesthetic criteria.<br />
These lms were stylistically inuential, establishing a<br />
new representation of urban space in which “gray” and<br />
“concrete” became verbal and visual metaphors for an<br />
inhospitable urban world. The “urban gray zone” became<br />
the symbol of the aesthetic, emotional, and practical<br />
devastation brought about by the process of urbanization<br />
itself. These images evoke a very specic experience,<br />
hardly comprehensible today. This offers us an important<br />
insight: such experiences are not universal but specic,<br />
and they change over time.<br />
The Bright Lights of the City<br />
If one looks at how processes of urbanization within<br />
Switzerland are represented today, one can identify a<br />
fundamental and altogether astonishing transformation.<br />
This change is manifested, for example, in Siedlungen,<br />
Agglomeration, the photo series produced by Peter Fischli<br />
and David Weiss (Fischli / Weiss 1993). In contrast to the<br />
“urban gray zone” aesthetic of the nineteen-eighties lms,<br />
their suburban landscapes are in color, perfectly sharp,<br />
often with owers and blue sky—a completely different<br />
kind of representation of urban space. Yet this does not<br />
mean that these urban landscapes have become harmless.<br />
On the contrary, these images express a subtle danger<br />
lurking behind the blooms of the yellow forsythia and the<br />
cotoneaster. In the photography of Fischli and Weiss, this<br />
peril is depicted less in the totalizing and homogenizing<br />
tendency of urbanization, than in the fact that these<br />
backward-looking images of a long-lost rurality are<br />
obscuring the possibilities and potentials of urbanization.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 150<br />
151
proximity to another self to which the lmic image seems<br />
to offer privileged access.<br />
Phenomenology and the Self in Film<br />
In her study The Address of the Eye: A Phenomenology of<br />
Film Experience, Vivian Sobchack locates lm’s medial<br />
specicity in its ability to situate the viewer within its<br />
temporal and spatial specicity, thereby offering a unique<br />
perceptual opportunity. She writes: “More than any other<br />
medium of human communication, the moving picture<br />
makes itself sensuously and sensibly manifest as the<br />
expression of experience by experience. A lm is an act of<br />
seeing that makes itself seen, an act of hearing that makes<br />
itself heard, an act of physical and reective movement<br />
that makes itself reexively felt and understood.… Cinema<br />
thus transposes, without completely transforming, those<br />
modes of being alive and consciously embodied in the<br />
world that count for each of us as direct experience: as<br />
experience ‘centered’ in that particular, situated and solely<br />
occupied existence sensed rst as ‘Here, where the world<br />
touches’ and then as ‘Here, where the world is sensible;<br />
here where I am’” (Sobchack 1995, p. 37).<br />
Film offers a sensual experience of the world, not only<br />
a description of it; it offers direct access to the experience<br />
of the other, not only an account of that experience; it is<br />
embodied and not only descriptive of corporeal experience;<br />
nally, it emphasizes the “here” of experience, the manner<br />
in which one’s situation in the world is of the utmost<br />
importance to one’s particular identity. And yet, if lm is<br />
always intersubjective, it is not possible to claim that the<br />
other of lm, or as Sobchack refers to it, the body of the<br />
lm, is identical to that of the lmmaker: the notion that<br />
the lmmaker is herself present in the lm is hindered<br />
at the same time the intersubjectivity that is generally<br />
inherent to lm and its connection to a given time and<br />
place is highlighted.<br />
But what are the repercussions implicit in an<br />
understanding of landscape that views it as a product of<br />
cognitive and societal constructs? To elucidate how these<br />
issues may become tangible within lms, I’d like to offer<br />
the example of two lms that use diametrically opposed<br />
representational strategies to demarcate both cognitive<br />
and societal aspects of the “situation” made available to<br />
the viewer by each one of them. The two lms at issue<br />
here, Oskar Fischinger’s München-Berlin Wanderung,<br />
and Adolf Winkelmann’s Kassel 9.12.67 11.54 h examine<br />
the precarious situation of the stranger, even as the<br />
protagonists align themselves—to varying degrees—both<br />
with the itinerant and with the local. They imagine situations<br />
of ostracism, exclusion, and isolation; indeed what is<br />
remarkable about these lms is that they all demonstrate<br />
a longing for the status of the stranger, to be an unknown<br />
wanderer, far from home, utterly distinct from one’s<br />
surroundings. Key to their musings, which take a variety<br />
of forms, is however, the attempt to distinguish self from<br />
other by implicitly asking what sets one apart and what<br />
binds one to others. All of these works attempt to dene<br />
the limits of community, even as they locate moments of<br />
commonality in the strangest places.<br />
The Stranger<br />
The relationship between self and other implicit in the<br />
notion of the stranger is not as simple as one might think.<br />
Georg Simmel makes a case for a far greater intimacy<br />
between the stranger and the local than was commonly<br />
thought to be the case. Rather than simply representing<br />
the itinerant per se, the stranger, in his account, is both<br />
known and unknown, familiar and strange. And yet, the<br />
degree to which this gure is familiar to the local is not<br />
his most essential feature. Eliminating from consideration<br />
that which is utterly unknown—and thus cannot be<br />
classied as strange unless it becomes known at some<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 160<br />
161
those around him, he endeavors to separate himself from<br />
them, avoiding their gaze, as if to suggest he is distinct<br />
from them, if not non-corporeal, as suggested above,<br />
then at very least, perhaps, a Weltbürger rather than a<br />
German citizen. Yet nally he succumbs, not only to the<br />
demands of corporeal existence, but also to that most<br />
quintessentially German snack food, the sausage, submitting<br />
thus also to the culture around him and abandoning<br />
his isolation. Furthermore, the protagonist’s movements<br />
support this interpersonal acquiescence.<br />
In Kassel 9.12.67 11.54 h, the viewer witnesses the<br />
protension of the ecological self, as it glides through space,<br />
getting its bearings by means of that which Neisser terms<br />
visual kinesthesis, “an optically produced awareness of<br />
one’s own movement and posture” (Neisser 1988, p. 38). However,<br />
in the case of this particular lm, which offers a rare<br />
perspective in which the protagonist both controls the<br />
camera and is visible in its range, the viewer can only<br />
imagine such visual kinesthesis; it is not made visible<br />
to her. Since the camera is trained on the protagonist<br />
himself, rather than on what lies before him, the lm<br />
emphasizes the withdrawal of the interpersonal self over<br />
the experience of the ecological self. Thus the viscerality<br />
of the protagonist’s movement through space is not made<br />
available to be shared by the viewer; the visibility of his<br />
consumption of the sausage, corporeal as that act may be,<br />
is only a minimal consolation.<br />
Travel and the traversal of space are key features of<br />
the lms in question here, in that they seek to facilitate<br />
the localization of the self within space through the<br />
distinctions they make between here and there, self and<br />
other. In essence, although not all of the protagonists<br />
in these lms leave their home cities. These two lms<br />
address the notion of tourism as put forth by Georges<br />
Van den Abbeele, when he writes that, “it is through<br />
the accumulation of experiences gleaned from cultural<br />
interaction that the individual is supposed to be able to<br />
situate himself in society. Not only is the number of one’s<br />
experiences a sign of one’s social worth (people with<br />
lots of experience are considered better than those with<br />
fewer), but one’s very involvement in a cultural experience<br />
is supposed to authenticate one’s membership in the<br />
society in which this experience takes place.… Tourism<br />
is seen to fulll the ideological function of palliating the<br />
individual’s sense of ‘alienation’” (Van den Abbeele 1980, p. 5). It is<br />
thus the tourist’s implicit project to situate herself within<br />
the group that is constituted around her, in an attempt<br />
to alleviate her own isolation. But in what fashion is the<br />
activity of tourism related to that of lm reception? If,<br />
following his argument, the protagonist of a lm may<br />
be seen to be situating herself in society by means of<br />
cultural interaction, how may the lm viewer participate<br />
in this exercise?<br />
In her Atlas of Emotion: Journeys in Art, Architecture,<br />
and Film, Giuliana Bruno suggests that the spatial<br />
effects evoked both by the traversal of urban space and by<br />
lm viewing are each capable of producing a similar kind<br />
of experience. She argues that, “The spatial culture that<br />
lm has developed, offering its own vedute, is a mobile<br />
architectonics of traveled space. Film’s spectatorship is<br />
thus a practice of space that is dwelt in, as in the built<br />
environment. The itinerary of such a practice is similarly<br />
drawn by the visitor to a city or its resident, who goes<br />
to the highest point—a hill, a skyscraper, a tower—to<br />
project herself onto the cityscape, and who also engages<br />
the anatomy of the streets, the city’s underbelly, as she<br />
traverses different urban congurations. Such a multiplicity<br />
of perspectives, a montage of ‘traveling’ shots<br />
with diverse viewpoints and rhythms, also guides the<br />
cinema and its way of site-seeing” (Bruno 2002, p. 62). Like<br />
the tourist who may seek to gain an overview of the realm<br />
that is open to her, the lm viewer is offered a range<br />
of perspectives, which are suggestive of a similar kind<br />
of traversal, and therefore offer a means of situating the<br />
self both spatially and culturally. This act of getting<br />
one’s bearings is all the more stirring, according to<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 166<br />
167
eference, both questioning and celebrating the ways<br />
in which—despite the mutations our landscapes have<br />
endured—their seasons might still resonate with those<br />
of their inhabitants and visitors.<br />
One might insist that the very concept of landscape<br />
was invented and aesthetically theorized by those classic<br />
artists and painters, and that landscape art and theory<br />
are still living on this legacy. Rohmer’s lms both<br />
conrm and question this statement. If they are obviously<br />
penetrated by this reference and classical culture—both<br />
pictorial and literary—which they occasionally revisit as<br />
in his last opus devoted to L’Astrée (Les amours d’Astrée<br />
et de Céladon, F 2007), they show at the same time that<br />
cinema has considerably reexplored and renewed the<br />
genre, and that contemporary theorists should indeed<br />
mine the exceptionally rich jurisprudence and intelligence<br />
accumulated by the moving image throughout the last<br />
century. In this respect, Rohmer’s trajectory is just an<br />
example among many others, but a particularly consistent<br />
one, which is what we now have to demonstrate.<br />
Posters of the four lms of Eric Rohmers lm series Contes des quatre saisons.<br />
Frédéric Poussin, Les Quatre Saisons, 1660–1664.<br />
Slow <strong>Motion</strong>: The Birth of a Film Director<br />
Rohmer, a specialist of German literature and a writer—he<br />
wrote the novel La Maison d’Elisabeth in 1946—made a<br />
living as a literature teacher for many years in different<br />
colleges. Very early on, he developed a passion for movies<br />
and cinema, which led him to write a doctoral thesis on The<br />
Organization of Space in Murnau’s Faust, later published<br />
as a book, and to become a very prolic lm critic: rst, in<br />
La Gazette du Cinéma, a journal he launched; and then<br />
in the famous Cahiers du Cinéma, where he served as<br />
chief editor from 1957 to 1963. Together with his younger<br />
friends Jean-Luc Godard, Jacques Rivette, François<br />
Truffaut, and Claude Chabrol—with whom he co-authored<br />
a book on Hitchcock in 1957—he became one of the main<br />
gures of the Nouvelle Vague. It is important to mention<br />
that Rohmer was the eldest of the group, a rather discreet<br />
and reserved person, extremely polite and gentle, absorbed<br />
in his work, with a touch of shyness—but an extreme<br />
dose of independence—very far from the image of the<br />
young wolf of a new generation that was soon attached to<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 178<br />
179
Other Documentaries, other Mutations<br />
In the following years, Rohmer made several other<br />
documentaries on specic mutations in townscapes<br />
and landscapes. In Une étudiante à Paris (F 1964), for<br />
instance, he described how student life and environment<br />
were changing at the time, showing the new campuses<br />
that were then being built in the periphery (Palaiseau,<br />
Jussieu). The old, famous, and central “Quartier Latin”<br />
was no longer the great ecological niche of knowledge in<br />
the city, but just one among several hubs burgeoning in<br />
a swarming metropolis. Students, likewise, weren’t the<br />
specic horde they used to be, quartered in dedicated<br />
haunts or districts, but male and female bachelors<br />
commuting like other workers between their homes,<br />
“cités,” and their universities or teaching facilities.<br />
Here again, the ambition is to observe rather than<br />
criticize, to bear witness to the ongoing transformations<br />
of life conditions and habits by describing with a kind<br />
of willed (though perplexed) sympathy the new spaces,<br />
architectures, and territories that they produce. Nice<br />
and empathic views of the streamlined and rather desert<br />
subscape of Jussieu. As we saw with Métamorphoses du<br />
Paysage, Rohmer does not conne his testimony to the<br />
urban condition, but extends it well beyond the limits<br />
of the city. In Fermière à Montfaucon (F 1967), a short<br />
documentary where the theme of the four seasons plays a<br />
structural role, he follows a young farmer in her “works<br />
and days” along the year, as she collects the eggs on a cold<br />
early spring morning, drives the harvester through the<br />
wheat elds in summer, picks apples with her husband on<br />
a September evening, and makes errands or deliveries—<br />
either with her light truck on the country roads, or by<br />
foot through the mud and snows of winter. Short hair,<br />
rubber-boots, machines, discreet involvement in the parish<br />
council, meetings at the local chamber of agriculture:<br />
a sober, populated and local portrait of the evolutions<br />
taking place in the rural world.<br />
Investigating the Villes Nouvelles<br />
Interestingly for us, Rohmer’s concern and empathy for<br />
landscapes, territories, cities, and their mutations are not<br />
purely contemplative, but eager to tackle their reasons, to<br />
understand the ways they are or might be addressed and<br />
improved by politics and designers. This profound interest<br />
in the actual making, the studio, and construction site<br />
of our cities and territories is most apparent in the long<br />
documentary Villes Nouvelles (F 1975), which in four<br />
episodes, Rohmer, along with Jean-Paul Pigeat, devoted<br />
to the design of the French Villes Nouvelles in the early<br />
nineteen-seventies. The rst part, entitled “Enfance d’une<br />
ville” (Childhood of a city), documents the development<br />
of Cergy-Pontoise, one of the ve New Towns that were<br />
then being built in the greater Paris area. After a short<br />
introduction by the two authors, the lm begins in the<br />
ofce of the New Town’s Établissement Public, where its<br />
director, sitting or standing in front of the plan, exposes<br />
the main ideas and planning principles. The interview is<br />
regularly interrupted by shots and sequences showing the<br />
territory in question: the old villages still surviving with<br />
the bell tower standing against a cloudy sky; sites under<br />
construction where massive concrete buildings emerge<br />
behind the roofs of suburban pavilions, elds of lettuce<br />
and wheat; conversations on-site with perplexed farmers<br />
whose lands have been reallocated; and, from a vantage<br />
point, a long panoramic sequence over the whole territory<br />
that the Ville Nouvelle—not yet completed but already<br />
rising everywhere—will eventually cover, ending up on<br />
a loop of the Seine where all the farmlands should give<br />
way to Cergy-Pontoise’s Central Park. In this particular<br />
instance, Rohmer’s empathy for the situation and the<br />
burgeoning city is clearly palpable, and it almost feels as if<br />
the documentary was also—unconsciously(?)—a location<br />
scouting expedition: reality morphing into ction. The<br />
second episode, “La diversité du paysage urbain” (The<br />
diversity of the urban landscape), develops as an extensive<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 186<br />
187
are absorbed in the detail of those scenes, which literally<br />
melt into one another, forming a continuous fabric of<br />
trees, paths, and clearings that you can populate with<br />
dreams and memories. Jean-Baptiste has drawn some<br />
scenes of his childhood memories on a little canvas that<br />
can be superimposed in specic places onto the wallpaper<br />
and be made to t exactly in the landscape.<br />
Sketches for the lm L’anglaise et le duc by Jean-Baptiste Marot.<br />
Wallpaper designed by Jean-Baptiste Marot.<br />
Rem Koolhaas once wrote, speaking of architects and<br />
designers: “We can make things, but not necessarily make<br />
them real” (Koolhaas 1995). What we learn from Rohmer,<br />
and from his careful short-circuits between documentary<br />
and ction, is that there is quite a difference between<br />
faking reality—a tiring spectacle nowadays—and<br />
achieving some degree of poetic verisimilitude. In fact, I<br />
am not sure I have any conclusion to offer, other than my<br />
faith that this combination of documentary and ction,<br />
attention, and imagination could be furthered and fruitfully<br />
emulated in our elds, so as to enlighten the plots<br />
our landscapes are pregnant with. Instead of attempting<br />
to wrap it up, I’ll end my text with some images of wallpaper<br />
that my brother is currently designing. At a certain<br />
distance, it looks like a new kind of “toile de Jouy,” those<br />
garments of repeated decorated patterns that generally<br />
depicted complex pastoral scenes and were very popular<br />
in the late eighteenth century. Except that the interwoven<br />
landscapes are here denser, lled with both banal and<br />
weird industrial constructions, covered by trees, a water<br />
tower, a metro entrance, concrete sheds, a power line steel<br />
pylon, an advertising board, etc. As you get closer, you<br />
Finally, here is an image of his son and one of my daughters<br />
parading as little Rohmerian gures against this<br />
landscaped wall. I hope their generation will count a fair<br />
number of thoughtful Zoes.<br />
References<br />
Elliott, Grace: During the Reign of Terror: Journal of My<br />
Life During the French Revolution, London 1859.<br />
Koolhaas, Rem: “Singapore Songlines.” In: S, M, L, XL.<br />
Rotterdam 1995, p. 1,077.<br />
<strong>Landscript</strong> 1 200<br />
201
Authors<br />
Elena Cogato Lanza is an architect and Senior<br />
Lecturer at the Laboratory for Construction and<br />
Conservation, Faculty ENAC, EPFL. Her research eld<br />
is characterized by an ongoing intersection between the<br />
history of urbanism and the theory of contemporary<br />
urban and landscape projects. She has been an expert<br />
for the French Ministry of Culture and Communication<br />
in the frame of the interdisciplinary research program<br />
“L’architecture de la grande échelle” and of the<br />
development and research program “Le Grand Pari(s)<br />
de l’agglomération parisienne.” Among her publications:<br />
Maurice Braillard et ses urbanistes, Geneva 2003;<br />
“Exposer l’architecture,” monographic issue of FACES,<br />
journal d’architecture, No. 53, Geneva 2003; Les experts<br />
de la Reconstruction. Figures et stratégies de l’élite<br />
technique dans l’Europe d’après 1945, Geneva 2009.<br />
Robin Curtis, born in Toronto, is Professor for<br />
Theory and Practice of Audiovisual Media at the<br />
Heinrich-Heine-Universität Düsseldorf. She is also<br />
a lmmaker and curator. Her publications include:<br />
Conscientious Viscerality. The Autobiographical Stance<br />
in German Film and Video, Berlin 2006; Einfühlung. Zu<br />
Geschichte und Gegenwart eines ästhetischen Konzepts,<br />
Munich 2008 (with Gertrud Koch); Synästhesie-Effekte.<br />
Zur Intermodalität der ästhetischen Wahrnehmung,<br />
Munich 2011 (with Marc Glöde and Gertrud Koch);<br />
Synchronisierung der Künste, Munich 2012 (with Gertrud<br />
Koch and Marc Siegel, forthcoming).<br />
Eelco Hooftm an was born in 1960 and, together<br />
with Bridget Baines, is co-founder of GROSS. M A X.<br />
<strong>Landscape</strong> Architects. Between 1990 and 2008, he<br />
taught at the School of <strong>Landscape</strong> Architecture at<br />
Edinburgh College of Art and was co-founder of an<br />
innovative post-graduate program Art, Space, and<br />
Nature. Hooftman is visiting studio instructor at GSD,<br />
Harvard and integrates theory and practice of landscape<br />
architecture in an extensive output of international<br />
projects and award-winning competition designs. Current<br />
projects include a Master Plan for Royal Botanic Gardens<br />
Kew, the transformation of Berlin’s former Tempelhof<br />
Airport into a public park, and the design of 800-hectare<br />
park for the city of Chengdu, China.<br />
Janik e K a mpevold Larsen holds a PhD in<br />
Comparative Literature. She is Associate Professor at<br />
the Institute of Urbanism and Design, Oslo School of<br />
Architecture and Design and has been working extensively<br />
on post-phenomenological philosophy, aesthetics,<br />
and in literary texts with productive descriptions of<br />
reality and particularly landscape. Her PhD is on the<br />
Norwegian writer Tor Ulven and the dynamics between<br />
imagination and description in literary texts.<br />
Sébastien M a rot was born in Paris in 1961. He<br />
holds a PhD in History. Between 1995 and 2003 he<br />
founded and edited the journal Le Visiteur. Marot is<br />
a founding member and a Professor of the Ecole d’architecture<br />
de la ville & des territoires de Marne-la-Vallée,<br />
where he is also the editorial director. He has taught in<br />
various schools of architecture or landscape in Europe and<br />
North America including the Architectural Association<br />
School of Architecture in London, ETH Zurich, Harvard<br />
University, and Cornell University. His writings and<br />
research on landscape architecture were awarded the<br />
Médaille de l’analyse architecturale in 2004 and with the<br />
Prix de la recherche in 2010, both from the Académie<br />
d’architecture Française. He edited the French issue of<br />
essays by André Corboz, Le Territoire comme palimpseste,<br />
Paris 2001; translated the essays of John Brinckerhoff<br />
Jackson, La Nécessité des Ruines et autres sujets, Paris<br />
2004; and is the author of L’Art de la mémoire, le territoire<br />
et l’architecture, Paris 2010 (published in English as<br />
Sub-Urbanism and the Art of Memory, London 2003).<br />
Volk er Pantenburg is Assistant Professor of<br />
Moving Images at the Bauhaus University Weimar<br />
and Junior Director of the Internationales Kolleg<br />
für Medienphilosophie und Kulturtechnikforschung<br />
(IK K M). His book publications include Film als Theorie.<br />
Bildforschung bei Harun Farocki und Jean-Luc Godard,<br />
Bielefeld 2006; Ränder des Kinos. Godard–Benning–<br />
Wiseman–Costa, Köln 2010 and Screen Dynamics.<br />
Mapping the Boders of Cinema, Vienna 2012 (co-editor).<br />
Frédéric Pousin is an architect, Director of<br />
research at CNRS, and Professor at the National<br />
Superior School of <strong>Landscape</strong> in Versailles where he is<br />
director of the school’s research laboratory. His research<br />
focuses on urban landscapes and the epistemological<br />
value of visuality in architecture and urbanism. His<br />
writings have appeared in Annales de la recherche urbaine,<br />
Carnets du paysage, Cahiers de la recherche architecturale<br />
et urbaine, Rassegna and Werk, Bauen + Wohnen. His<br />
books include Signes, Histoire, Fictions. Autour de Louis<br />
Marin, Paris 2003 (with Sylvie Robic); Figures de la<br />
ville et construction des savoirs, architecture, urbanisme,<br />
géographie, Paris 2005; and Paysage urbain: genèse,<br />
représentations, enjeux contemporains, Paris 2007 (with<br />
Helena Jannière).<br />
Christi an Schmid is Professor of Sociology at<br />
the Department of Architecture of ETH Zurich and<br />
researcher at ETH Studio Basel, Switzerland. He is<br />
the author of Stadt, Raum und Gesellschaft: Henri<br />
Lefebvre und die Produktion des Raumes, Stuttgart<br />
2005, and co-author of Switzerland—An Urban Portrait,<br />
Basel-Boston-Berlin 2007 (with Roger Diener, Jacques<br />
Herzog, Marcel Meili, Pierre de Meuron). His writing<br />
and teaching focus on theories of space and urbanization,<br />
comparative urban studies, and urban social movements.<br />
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