FAMILIAR STRANGER
on the intimate relationship between the inhabitant, the city voyeur and surveillance cameras
MASTER 1
Wicked Housing I
Prof. Annelies De Smet
Prof. Nel Janssens
In this course the focus lies on a habit, in this case the habit of coming home and undressing. The project is in essence a pilgrimage starting in an alley of Brussel-North’s red light district, a blind spot in the dense network of surveillance cameras as well as a place where my habit of undressing isn’t frowned upon. This in contrast to the destination of the journey, Brussels Grand Market, known in history as a place to dress up. First the pilgrim descends into the cellar, an underground hall with a niche to leave the clothes. Exposure brings the pilgrim in a vulnerable and humble position before roaming on. Any discomfort is a sacrifice for the essential comfort, namely the protection against the illusion of protection from surveillance cameras. During the 1.6 km long underground walk to the market, there’s a potential of confrontation with an anonymous voyeur, as long as this voyeur is willing to curl into a vulnerable position themself. The mirror found at the end of the tunnel functions as a realistic fatamorgana. While approaching, the end goal becomes visible through it’s reflection and the pilgrim regains the hope necessary to ascend the 96m high tower. While reaching towards the sky the pilgrim is confronted with the views of architecture. After this follows a confrontation with the good and the evil, in the form of a statue of the angel of protection, Michaël, defeating a dragon.
Story
Habit
PIE-root ghabb to give, to receive
'usual mode of action'
'to dress, to wear, clothing'
'to consider, think, reason'
'to dwell, to reside, to find oneself'
'characteristic attire of a religious order'
Usual mode of action
By paying close attention to my behavior, I was able to unveil my habits. In doing so, I discovered what makes me feel at home. The first thing I do when I come home is undress. A home is a place that offers the (illusion of) protection necessary to make me feel comfortable enough to be naked. Nakedness can reverberate a primitive experience, like memories of being shamelessly naked as a child, as if any place offered enough protection to feel comfortable.
To dress, to wear, clothing
Strangely, even though nakedness has a metaphysical potential, humans tend to cover up. We clothe ourselves to protect ourselves from judgement. We keep part of our body secret. There is something interesting about something that hides its potential. It’s like a wrapped gift, once it’s opened, we lose our interest. A sphere of chastity is necessary to preserve our identity.
To consider, to think, to reason
So what makes me feel comfortable to be naked? When is nakedness accepted, when is it weird? When I’m alone I’m most at ease. With a partner, a close friend or a doctor I don’t feel judged either. It only shifts in front of strangers, like on a square. Here I suddenly feel too exposed. To me nakedness is a parameter to feeling at home. The more I feel a sense of protection, the more I dare to undress.
However, this sphere of protection is only an illusion. Even with your partner, in the comfort of your own bed, judgment can still occur. So being naked in bed is in essence not different from being naked on a square. Judgement is a constant, the only difference is that sometimes it’s covered by an illusion of protection to make it appear less confrontational.
To dwell, to reside, to find oneself
To bring this confrontation to the front, I decide to design a dwelling in the public space of the Grand Market in Brussels. This place has since the 17th century bombardments acted as a décor for the theatre of the city, a stage to dress and dress up. To this day the place has the function of impressing, even if it’s in the background of a selfie.
On the square, I discovered that the public space has its very own illusion of protection, ‘city voyeurism’. A sense of safety is created by a dense network of controlling camera’s on and around the square. You find them disguised by lanterns or resembling gargouilles on the eaves of historical buildings.
Characteristic attire of a religious order
Out of curiosity I visited the Saint-Nicolas church behind the square, where I discovered 7 cameras, tactically placed above alters and statues of saints to overlook the prayers. It made me rethink what we’re worshipping. Do these cameras offer a more modern sense of protection? Is religion as passé as we like to believe, or have we simply given God a new attire?
This modern God is a too familiar stranger towards which I don’t want to reveal myself, so for the entrance of my home, where the confrontation with the outside world is at a maximum, I pick a spot out of His view. However anybody willing to kneel down on the street to peek through a hole the size of a keyhole, is welcome to be my voyeur. The constant risk of being judged is an extra fear brought to the dark cellar space, where I already whistle to control my fantasies or to confirm my existence. It intensifies a situation of awareness. Next, while ascending a ladder, I’m confronted with the hollow eyes of the statues on the city hall. I know they won’t judge me, so on my way to the attic I’m able to rationalize my thoughts. These two contrasting spaces are separated by an interspace, where the water is so deep and dense that the weight of the reservoir outbalances the momentum created by the tower. From here the end goal, reaching the statue of Michaël, the angel of protection, on top of the city hall tower, is already visible through the reflection of a mirror.