Gracias a la amable invitación de Brais Estévez Vilariño, participaré del seminario de Futuros Urbanos 24-25 de la Facultad de Geografía e Historia de la Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, “un espacio de encuentro para compartir indagaciones en curso e imaginar futuros deseables.”
El próximo 21 de noviembre a las 13:30 CET (online en Teams, acceso libre y gratuito), estaré presentando Prototipos para un Departamento de Umbrología: El calor como un asunto que pensar con las manos, sobre mis recientes indagaciones acompañando un proceso de prototipado de infraestructuras de sombreado público para mitigar el calor en la ciudad de Barcelona, especulando con la posible creación de un Departamento de Umbrología por venir.
Editorial note: Prototypes for a Department of Umbrology is the third issue in a series of urban explorations that are part of an ongoing collaboration between Tarde and xcol.org.
How could we transition from a dangerous modernist ‘solar urbanism’ [1] to the renewed hope in the urban powers of shade? This transformation is far from just material or technical one; it also requires culturally symbolic and everyday practical undertakings. However, to achieve this, perhaps there is no other way around experimenting with speculative political practices and collective formations, where ethnography might still play a relevant role: not just as a documentary practice but an interventive one. A possible avenue to try out new forms of ethnographic relevance could be to draw inspiration from artistic practices searching to probe new ways into the contemporary climatic mutation in its complex local expressions.
As suggested in Tarde’s number 6, The City of Shades – the first in a trilogy on urban shades – we could follow the trail of the guided walks proposed by Los Angeles Urban Rangers or the immersive protocols of experimental politics of the Crisis Cabinet of Political Fictions[2]. Their works could be of great relevance to go beyond an attempt at undermining the practices of existing institutions. In fact, at a time when reclaiming the social state as a crucial infrastructure accompanying and sustaining experimentation with the forms of personal and collective protection might be needed, the task might be more akin to what legal activist Radha D’Souza and artist Jonas Staal stated when proposing their Court for Intergenerational Climate Crimes (CICC):
“For art to have emancipatory significance, it must go beyond mere questioning and deconstruction, and learn to retool statecraft’s arsenal to construct alternative popular institutions” [3].
Poster of The City of Shades workshop
Taking this thread, perhaps what is needed in times of a deep climatic mutation and growing extreme urban heat is to propose an alternative popular institution of that kind, as a parasitic companion to the work of existing civic actors and administrations. As put forward in Tarde’s issue #6 we could unfold a Department of Umbrology (DoU) in our urban territories: a space where to equip a new kind of professional of this strange discipline imagined by writer Tim Horvath, as well as a crossroads of knowledges and practices, bundling together those interested in the inquiry on and politics of urban shades.
But what would be the relevant knowledges and the concrete practices that this department, however fictional or speculative, might need to foster? First of all, it would need to gather people devoted to understanding things like: the social and material complexity of shades, the multiplicity of actors and assemblages constituting them; the practices of generating shade, by and for whom; or the forms of sociality that they allow as regions or territories of care, attending to their temporalities, their rhythms, and their spatial dramaturgies. Come what may, its first mandate would be to create the conditions for all this to happen.
Even if we imagined it to be a flexible collective of sorts – perhaps even summoned anew for every issue, articulated around yet-to-be-defined requests or mandates, and devoted to exploring the wide gamut of mediational possibilities ranging from civic or artivist protest to para-institutional endeavors – to grant it some reality we needed a setting, as well as a series of practicable ways for people to imagine this. Our current issue seeks to document a first attempt at doing this.
Testing the DoU hypothesis in a sheltered environment, I: Background
The concrete setting to materialize this speculative scenario took us around six months of on-and-off preparatory work. It happened in and around an open 5-day workshop, The City of Shades, in Barcelona on June 17-21, 2024 [4]. Organized in collaboration with Santiago Orrego, the workshop was backed by my own Ramón y Cajal research funds and a small amount of funding and promotion for the Architectural Weeks of Barcelona. The workshop was put together in collaboration with the City of Barcelona’s Climate Change and Sustainability Office and BIT Habitat, a foundation from the municipality whose mandate concerns deploying internal innovation mechanisms within the city hall and fostering the city’s innovative ecosystem to face municipal challenges.
I have been formally collaborating with both areas of the city council of Barcelona since July 2023, when they launched an architectural contest to prototype temporary public space shade solutions for the hot season. The contest wished to make emerging solutions unavailable in the market, responding to a main need detected by the municipality’s public officers: although, in their view, tree shade should be the main way to go, even in the midst of the worst drought of a century, certain urban configurations and regulations make it impossible to plant trees or other forms of greenery. Particularly (1) big open places with underground heavy infrastructure, such as transportation pathways or car parks, (2) small streets where fire regulations would not allow tree planting, and (3) playgrounds due to safety regulations concerning their pavements and zonification. The focus on these three spatial problems, as well as a desire to have re-usable, scalable and modular solutions, became the main prerequisites of the contest.
Heat measurements of uncovered urban soils
The ‘temporary public space shade’ challenge serves to develop one aspect of the ‘shade plan’ conceived in the City Council’s Climate Plan 2018-2030, an ambitious series of adaptation and mitigation interventions, amongst them a wide portfolio of measures to tackle urban heat [5]: ranging from public space interventions (climate shelters, shade infrastructures, bioclimatic itineraries) to attempts at decarbonising building cooling, incentivising aerothermal solutions centring energy poverty. All of this is part of a crucial agenda of the municipality for environmental justice, foregrounding its concern for ‘vulnerable populations’, like children, older and disabled people. Indeed, after increasingly scorching years, with every summer bringing sky-rocketing temperatures, Barcelona’s humid heat is one of the city’s main public concerns.
For the challenge, three consortia were selected by a committee of technical experts who valued how well the initial ideas might develop over a year into good-enough technical projects to respond to the contest’s challenges [6]. The consortia are of a rather mixed nature, comprising companies and architectural studios, cooperatives of architects and woodsmiths, or agricultural greenhouse providers, and a network of cooperative architects and social cooperatives. They were awarded 100 000€ to produce an idea that would be implemented with the advice of the relevant urban planning areas of the municipality, installed in given public spaces, and monitored in the next hot season. The incentive for this prototyping endeavor is that later, they could define the municipality’s calls for tenders for future urban shade products and establish a business model selling them to the public sector.
Render of one of the prototypes, as discussed on site in The City of Shades workshop
Since July 2023 I have joined as a peculiar fly-on-the-wall ethnographer the technical mentoring meetings, where the projects’ makers met with different public officers from relevant municipal areas – usually, engineers and architects by training – in charge of monitoring any new addition to Barcelona’s already packed public space. Interestingly, as the installation phase approached, I was asked for advice.
Although our formal collaboration agreement doesn’t include any payment for services, all parties became interested in having my views on how to approach the ‘social monitoring’ of the projects, a requirement from the municipality. It accompanies a more technically-developed ‘climatic monitoring’ (measuring temperature, humidity, shade coverage, etc.). Each project will need to study their own prototype and produce accounts of societal acceptance and use, as well as of thermal comfort [7]. Ever since, I have been informally suggesting and advising how to engage in the design of their surveys (sampling, data-gathering techniques, etc.) or discussing more or less experimental cartographic approaches to study spatial use: flow movements and permanence.
Render of one of the prototypes, as discussed on site in The City of Shades workshop
Even if thinking on the relations between shades, architecture, and heat practices has proven an extremely creative conceptual exploration from the onset, my ethnographic work remained confidential and tied to an activity of minute-taking: filling up pages and pages of a notepad to remember rather dense technical details. This is where the idea of a collective and public-oriented Department of Umbrology, where to inquire and discuss intuitions on the urban life of shade with others, became an interesting hypothesis to explore and experiment with forms of ethnographic relevance in the vicinity of all the other technical actors I have been collaborating with: not treating ‘the social’ as a closed category in advance (what the material or the climatic is not, the human factor), nor invoking it after the fact (providing sanctioning takes about technology acceptance) but rather evoking its emergent, everyday and ongoing creative process. To do this, we needed to imagine ways in which ethnography could come to matter: hopefully opening up what the social might mean in different shady locations, enabling more nuanced takes on the complex social and material life of shades and their forms of urban care.
Graphic storytelling of the inaugural presentation of The City of Shades workshop by Carla Boserman
i. Testing the DoU hypothesis in a sheltered environment, II: Producing a collaborative workshop
Testing ‘what a DoU might be’ was the inspiring idea behind The City of Shades workshop. A 5-day event, open to like-minded interdisciplinary people coming from the arts and humanities, the social sciences, and the design and architectural disciplines, with mandatory prior registration to screen who was interested and be able to create relevant synergies when attempting to articulate an exploratory collective research space like this. Sensing the organizational burden would be too much for us to carry the conceptual weight of the workshop, and in a spirit of collective speculation where many more views are needed, we additionally invited as mentors six colleagues from the arts and the social sciences working on experimental ethnographic approaches and with an artistic sensitivity to inquiry, who would push us to take it seriously or contribute to expand it beyond what we had imagined.
Cap with the DoU corporate logo
To render this practicable, we imagined umbrologists would require a series of roles, such as: (1) Shadow topologist, (2) Shade research-creator, (3) Sunlight cartographer, and (4) Community Shade Resilience Analyst. For each of these roles, we provided a small description and designed a series of specific forms, enabling the DoU to be imagined as a department of sorts: working ‘in the shadows’ of real ones, re-signifying what ‘shadowing’ tends to mean in common ethnographic parlance [8]. We also created a logo, a website, and baseball caps each of the participants could wear to protect from the scorching sun in our urban explorations as a way to enforce an idea of corporate identity and to become noticeable when moving around. The materials gathered in Tarde’s issue 6 and its zine were the main outcome of this preparatory effort. Indeed, the long essay was the discursive opening of the workshop, and the zine contained some of the forms we conceived and tried out.
We didn’t imagine this kit to be more than a first workable version, something enabling us to plunge into the problem and its conundrums more quickly, helping people have something to work with when thinking on shades for the first time. Our aim, thus, was to put to a test these bureaucratic forms undertaking a series of guided walks (around the Poblenou district of Barcelona, where the workshop venue was located; and monographic visits to the future sites where the municipal shade prototypes were going to be implemented, meeting the projects). We wanted to do so with the objective of later engaging in the hands-on redesign of the roles and forms of what a DoU could be, inspired by lectures, presentations and hands-on activities.
With the help of the mentors and a core group of 15 people who had registered – mostly from social sciences and architectural backgrounds – and the fluctuating assistance of people from the architectural contest, we had the immense luck to explore the possible research devices and mandates for the DoU. Our learnings were summarised on-site: the workshop ended with the production in less than 8 hoursof a fanzine, with the help of the open source collective PliegOS (our thanks again to Enric Senabre and Ricard Espelt for their work on this!), specialized in alternative forms of public documentation of events [9]. This raw and wonderful collective zine formed the backbone of the ethnographic kit for the study of urban shades you can now download in this issue. The only upgrade has been slightly polishing the language and developing aesthetic continuity between the different parts.
Collective work on a quick zine in The City of Shades workshop
ii. Learning to become umbrologists under the scorching sun: Documenting the workshop
Sweating over our cards, on different walks we learned to think about the urban inclinations of the sun, to relate to trees and plant coverage, to draw shadows with solarized spinach paper, to distinguish shade’s private contours (in the form of bars and terraces) from shady public infrastructures, to understand the relevance of broadening our view beyond the human (exploring an ethology of shades!), and to find ways to gather experiences of urban shades.
Our workshop took place mostly in the Sant Martí district of Barcelona, where the Poblenou neighbourhood is located. This is where I live and work, and my previous experience walking around with my daughters informed the selection of the places. But we also ventured beyond it when visiting the places where the municipality’s shade prototypes were to be emplaced and installed. This experimental journey also took us to the seafront of Barceloneta, then to the immense gap between large buildings of the Maresme-Forum over one of Barcelona’s main ring roads, or to the highline of the Sants district, created over the transportation box that the underground and commuter trains use to traverse the city.
As novice umbrologists, these endeavors enabled us to probe into the true power of urban shades, which also swallowed a measuring briefcase from the municipality without leaving a trace in one of our visits. In the final session, prior to working on the closing zine, I attempted to summarise our learnings as follows.
First lesson. To work as an umbrologist, it is advisable not to lose sight of one’s own body, as well as pay attention to the corporeality of our recording materials. Climates are mutating, and so should our recording devices! We learned this together with artist Carla Boserman, who pushed us to try out the complex task of following moving shades with blank pieces of paper, forcing us to go beyond reifying and representational takes. Carla also introduced us to the art of drawing through the climate-prone technique she has been recently exploring: anthotypeson emulsified papers, the predecessor of photographic printing, using the sun as a recording device.
Catching shades on paperA kit to work on anthotypes
Following shades and their shaky silhouettes, we realized that shades are anything but static. They move, and they move us with them. Also, they are not a single thing but a strange singular amalgamation of contours in between opacity and luminosity. As Carla told us, she became passionate about anthotypes when inquiring on affective forms of inscription that might also be attentive to atmospheric changes [10]: that is, not thought of from pens or pencils that always work, irrespective of the weather they are used in, but from the unstable environmental relationship of the sun imprinting its radiating force on fragile papers.
Shade on white notebook
Second lesson. On our walk through Poblenou, largely inspired by Carla’s work, we realised that it did not make much sense to think of shades as atmospheric occurrences, even though there are many useless, ephemeral or evanescent shadows. Rather, as we discussed at length that same Monday morning, the urban shades that interest us, those that allow us to shelter and cool off, should be thought of more as existential or lived regions.
Umbrologist at work
This was the main result of a collective conversation after spending some time, amazed as well as surprised, debating at length about an intersection. In it, shades were in some way ‘privatized’ by a terrace for the greater part of the day, leaving the nearby playground untouched, turned into an accidental grill for risk-prone parents and children. This ‘regional gaze’ at shades, as someone aptly called it in our discussion, also meant understanding them not from their metric spatial dimensions or climatological indicators but as interwoven topologies of atmospheric care for a plurality of bodies: territories plotted by power relations, flows of movement and knowledge, and divisions enacting sometimes profoundly unequal conditions of access, or as locales of possible multispecies inhabiting [11].
Playground under the sun
Visiting the locations of the municipality’s shade prototypes, we realized that, in addition to thinking about their patterns or modularity, we always needed to pay attention to: their surroundings, the habitual and possible uses of space, and the modes of circulation, the symbolism and the affordances of given places; and to actors both human and other than human (doves, seagulls, dogs and parakeets being regular companions in our walks). That is, to the different ways in which different actors make these spaces existential territories of life, both in the open and in hideouts, in different moments of the day as well as in the dark hours of the night. This regional, domain-specific look, attentive to the places and their shady life, felt to us of the utmost importance given that the prototypes could redefine and alter urban care: both opening up conflicts that didn’t exist before, hardening others that were hidden, as well as enabling newer ones to emerge.
Parakeet sheltered from the sun
Third lesson. This corporal approach and the importance of a regional perspective had as a result a full revamping of the kit we had proposed, developing new sheets and protocols of analysis of and intervention in the shades. Also, thanks to the fabulous interventions of Isaac Marrero-Guillamón [12] and Fernando Domínguez Rubio [13], we started imagining different mediational mandates for what a DoU might wish to respond to, drawing from the work of different artistic and activist forms of research they suggested us to resonate with.
As a result of all of these intense 5 days, the zine we worked on materialized a handful of activities to activate a possible DoU, enabling a bunch of research modalities that could be mobilized in different contexts of use.
Reworking our previous kit
iii. Prototypes for a DoU: Imagining a future practice
All in all, what these learnings prompted us to reflect on is the poetic and political potential of shades, which transcends the idea of simple technical solutions to thorny problems. In our workshop, shades appeared as a popular and well-spread figure of everyday climatisation (who can’t create shades, even with their own hands?), whose mundanity might precisely allow re-politicizing climate and weather not as things out there, observed and pinned down by meteorologists or climatologists, but as an urban collective concern, eliciting a broader conversation on how we could learn to live in more protective urban ecologies.
In other words, urban shades could also have the power to renew political ecology, the practice of creating and inhabiting them, unfolding a desire for exploration, play, and doing things with others that might not be so obvious when thinking of conventional forms of climatization grounded on air conditioning or ventilation [14]. Precisely because of its mundane nature, shading – a manual activity [15], a hands-on practice of learning to collectively condition and make a space inhabitable under the sun [16] –subtly but unavoidably challenges the problem of modernist solar urbanism and helps qualify mechanical air conditioning acting as a technology for forgetting the deadly fossil fuel substrate of our ways of living and its role in the formation of our atmospheric conundrums [17].
As a result, this issue of Tarde offers prototypes for a Department of Umbrology: a more grounded tentative proposal, slightly upgrading what we learned in the workshop. The accompanying zine, hence, is a small kit with a series of practical exercises and research devices: on the one hand, there are devices enabling a sensitization to what thinking with shades does to understanding the urban, as a matter of sun inclinations and exposure, or a first attempt at their inventory, documenting their changing features, their uses, and uselessness; on the other hand, we have devices for a more collective analysis of shades as regions with their spatial divisions, a proto-ethology of their human and other than human actors, and a series of prompts to elicit individual and group experiences.
The shade as an intergenerational and multispecies region?
Taken as a whole, these six devices enable us to imagine a future practice for the DoU to continue existing. This might also mean mutating in each place and around particular places and topics [18], for the DoU should not just be a collaborative space to study the urban life of shades but an urban space to enter into generative and fruitful shady relations! [19]
References
[1] With this expression, rather than discussing the use of solar power in urban settings, I refer to the signature modernist hygienist drive to design urban settings for clean air circulation and insolation, as a heliocentric approach to city-making. For more context, see Tarde’s issue #6: https://tarde.info/the-city-of-shades/
[2] The latter define their work as “an exercise in political speculation that different experts make to bring possible futures to the present through fictional scenarios that must be addressed within a limited period of time.”
[3] D’Souza, R., & Staal, J. (Eds.). (2024: 10). CICC – Court for Intergenerational Climate Crimes. Rotterdam: Framer Framed.
[11] Something for which I’ve found both Vinciane Despret and Bruno Latour’s territorial musings of great food for thought. See Despret, V. (2021). Living as a Bird. Wiley; Latour, B. (2021). After Lockdown: A Metamorphosis. Polity. For an interesting companion for this kind of territorial thinking, see Aït-Touati, F., Arènes, A., & Grégoire, A. (2022). Terra Forma: A Book of Speculative Maps. MIT Press.
[12] Isaac took us on a tour de force revisiting the inspiring works of a dozen artists exploring modes of representation and collaboration to render practicable different ‘mediational’ possibilities of what the DoU might be or, in his words, “I would wish that a Department of Umbrology could think in recursive cycles of research, relationship, and public interfacing”. To name but a few of the many examples he discussed at length to substantiate this, allow me to select just three, because of the impact they left on some of our conversations: Silvia Zayas’s magnificent collaborative artistic speculation ruido ê, working – by means of a documentary and other media – with oceanographers to expand their sensory registers of subaquatic perception when studying manta rays and sharks; Stephen Gill’s Buried photographic series, a work of photographic remediation of the future transformation of the contaminated soil of the Olympic site in London (a moment where many informal uses of the space were lost) recording scenes of the life of these ‘post-industrial marshes’ with a cheap camera, then burying them images on the ground of the conflict, letting them impact it, thus being a double record of the chemicals in the camera and on the ground; Jessie Brennan’s The Cut, a juxtaposed drawing exploring fragments of the oral history of a neighbourhood from London traversed by a canal, using the canal as the storytelling device.
[13] Fernando discussed the speculative work around fiction that the Crisis Cabinet of Political Fictions and cognate works have sought to render practicable. Discussing at length the relevance of fiction to mould reality, he expounded the different scenarios they had been working on. In his presentation, he advocated for a use of fiction that discloses its own shadows (absences, problems, strange effects), rather than hiding its own productive and speculative engine.
[14] With the wonderful exception of the very inspiring hands-on artistic take to ‘air conditioning’ explored years ago by Iñaki Álvarez and Carme Torrent, inventing a wide variety of exercises whereby the air we breathe and sweat is rendered collectively articulate in given situations by means of “actions and choreographic and climatic situations in which the air can be the main character and a performer”, see https://mercatflors.cat/en/espectacle/salmon-air-condition-2/ (the materials of these sessions, graciously donated by Blanca Callén were of great food for thought when imagining the workshop; my appreciation goes to Iñaki, Carme and Blanca for the long conversation we had on this experience).
[15] For a very graphic exploration of this, see Fernández, M. (2021). Tejiendo la calle. Rua ediciones. This book recounts the story of a community-driven architectural project in the village of Valverde de la Vera (Spain), where villagers have engaged in a process of creating parasols out of recycled plastic, later on deciding collectively where and how to hang them in the hot season. This project beautifully shows how these parasols are not just ways of sheltering from the sun, but the changing fabric of a shady community in the making.
[16] In that sense, shading practices could very well be thought of as the next of kin the embodied approaches to ‘weathering’ proposed by Neimanis, A., & Walker, R. L. (2014). Weathering: Climate Change and the “Thick Time” of Transcorporeality. Hypatia, 29(3), 558-575.
[17] An argument developed at length by Barak, O. (2024). Heat, a History: Lessons from the Middle East for a Warming Planet. University of California Press.
[18] In his intervention, Adolfo Estalella ventured beyond his work on ‘ethnographic invention’ (c.f. Criado, T. S., & Estalella, A. (Eds.) (2023). An Ethnographic Inventory: Field Devices for Anthropological Inquiry. Routledge) to offer ‘diffraction’, an optical concept taken from the work Donna Haraway, as an interesting new way to discuss the different attempts, trials and tribulations of a ‘shady’ ethnographic practice beyond the totalising idea of ‘method.’
[19] What Francisco Martínez referred to, in another of the presentations of the workshop, as a practice of opacity. See Martínez, F. (2024). “Lights out: practicing opacity in Estonian basements.” Etnográfica, 28 (1), 285-297.
Qué complejas son las relaciones con la prensa: sus prisas, sus exigencias y sus formatos. Seguramente están muy ligadas a la precariedad y el saltar de tema en tema. Pero estas condiciones, qué poco permiten espacios para el pensar y el discurrir colectivo. ¿Cómo armar otras formas de la relación con lo público frente a las imposiciones de esa “divulgación científica” apresurada?
El contexto de esta reflexión es que, a mediados de octubre, me solicitaron una entrevista, bastante larga, que tendría por objetivo comparar la investigación de distintas personas interesadas en “cuidar el planeta”. Hoy supe que, de todo ello, sólo saldrán publicadas un par de frases, un poco fuera de contexto.
Con el resquemor de la ocasión perdida y la voluntad de aprovechar el trabajo ya hecho, que tenía por motivación suscitar posibles conversaciones sobre la relevancia de las ciencias sociales en la investigación sobre el cambio climático o el trabajo complejo de lo interdisciplinario, he decidido hacer disponible el contenido completo de mi respuesta. Ojalá sirva para algo.
Mi agradecimiento a Carmen Lozano Bright por su asistencia en este proceso.
Se habla mucho de que los más pequeños de la casa son los más concienciados para cuidar el planeta pero, ¿qué podemos aprender de nuestros mayores?
En el activismo siempre se suele poner el foco en las generaciones jóvenes, donde reside la esperanza de un mundo nuevo. Solemos atribuir a los mayores un cierto conservadurismo. Pero esto hace tiempo que se viene disputando. Las personas que hoy se encuentran en las edades más avanzadas son también las de la generación del 1968 y las luchas por la emancipación corporal. Y mucha de esa gente sigue batallando por abrir la posibilidad de un futuro en un momento aciago, complejo y donde podemos sentir cierta parálisis.
Dicho esto, quisiera recalcar que las generaciones no son homogéneas, los legados intergeneracionales siempre un reto y los aprendizajes nunca unívocos. Tenemos mucho que aprender de las luchas pasadas por la prosperidad, el estado social, la protección y la redistribución de la riqueza como un trabajo de lo que para ellos era su futuro y el de las generaciones venideras.
Pero también tenemos que olvidar, no hay herencia sin olvido: necesitamos deshacernos de una idea de bienestar caduca, con sus hábitos de uso energético, estéticas existenciales del gasto, formas de urbanización y movilidad desastrosas. Expresado de otra manera, necesitamos librarnos de un legado de lo que podríamos llamar, apoyándonos en el trabajo de Pierre Charbonnier, un “bienestar de carbono”, para imaginar otras formas de buena vida, otros territorios existenciales sostenidos también por el estado social, pero dentro de los límites planetarios.
Antes que nada es importante situarnos. Por una parte, la mayor parte de la humanidad vive en entornos urbanos extremadamente densos, tecnificados e intervenidos. Por otra parte, en los últimos cincuenta años la población mundial está alcanzando a vivir muchos más años que nunca anteriormente en la historia. Particularmente en la UE más de una quinta parte de sus habitantes tiene actualmente más de 65 años.
En este contexto, las preguntas del proyecto son dos. La primera es qué formas de urbanización han permitido que envejeciéramos como no lo hemos hecho nunca antes: en longevidad y calidad de vida o con salud. Pensemos en el logro social del transporte público o las calles accesibles para todos, fruto del trabajo de muchos activistas y técnicos.
España es un lugar donde la accesibilidad urbana está ampliamente desarrollada y en transformación. Si uno camina por una ciudad española, las calles están llenas de mayores y cuerpos diversos. Esto no es así en muchos otros sitios del planeta. Queda mucho por hacer, pero hay mucho bien hecho y debemos sentir orgullo.
La segunda pregunta remite a nuestro reto climático actual. Estamos en un proceso de fabricar ciudades amigables para las personas mayores y la diversidad funcional, pero lo hacemos muchas veces a través de infraestructuras desarrollistas, crecentistas y carboníferas.
Pensemos en nuestras calles de cemento, hormigón o granito, en esos pavimentos sellados hechos para poder caminar de forma segura para personas en silla de ruedas o ciegas. Esos mismos pavimentos son ahora el fundamento de muchos problemas, como el efecto isla de calor, que vulnerabiliza y expone a esos mismos cuerpos a los que se les quería restituir su derecho a la ciudad.
El reto actual es, por tanto: ¿cómo podremos pensar los futuros de estas ciudades que envejecen, demográficamente y como proyecto urbano? A través de talleres inmersivos y especulativos queremos aprender a pensar, junto con activistas mayores, urbanistas, técnicos municipales y legisladoras cómo construir ciudades para envejecer bien dentro de los límites del planeta.
¿Qué es lo más enriquecedor de trabajar desde la interdisciplinariedad para luchar contra el cambio climático?
Llevo muchos años en una conversación densa con activistas de la accesibilidad, arquitectas, diseñadoras y urbanistas. El trabajo de la interdisciplinariedad es duro, complejo, lleno de retos. Es un lugar de aprendizajes muy ricos, pero mentiría si dijera que es algo fácil. Al contrario, requiere de mucho trabajo, muchas veces friccional.
Sea como fuere, creo que es uno de nuestros principales retos en tiempos de mutación climática. Precisamente cuando alguna gente quisiera correr y darnos las soluciones es cuando más necesitamos aprender a ponerlas en común y explorar sus efectos, interesantes o desastrosos.
A mí me preocupa mucho que no todos los saberes se presentan en ese encuentro interdisciplinar en igualdad de condiciones: hay saberes que se creen más racionales o justificados que otros en su deseo de definir los problemas e intervenir. Las disciplinas biomédicas o las disciplinas técnicas, por ejemplo, tienden a hacer esto.
Creo que tienen mucho que aprender de las ciencias sociales, las humanidades, las artes y muchas otras formas de expresión cultural: la sensibilidad por la pluralidad de sentidos y formas de vida, su respeto y cultivo. Pero nos involucran muchas veces únicamente en la detección de necesidades o en la validación de sus resultados. Creo que esto es un error de planteamiento.
Entonces, para que esa colaboración interdisciplinar funcione habrá que bloquear las soluciones fáciles y evitar relaciones donde las cartas están marcadas. Necesitaríamos abrirnos a colaboraciones genuinamente experimentales para poder abordar los muchos retos de cómo viviremos, cómo habitaremos democráticamente en un momento sin precedentes.
En la atención a las sombras: sobre dibujos y registros, sobre cuerpos y climas
¿Cómo puede el dibujo contribuir a hacernos sensibles a las sombras, para así dejar de percibirlas como el negativo de lo que se vemos o de lo que se quiere mostrar? ¿Cómo puede el dibujo activar procesos de investigación que requieren de un desplazamiento hacia el cuerpo y la materia?¿Cómo puede el dibujo habitar un tiempo cambiante y acercarnos al ritmo de climatología?¿Cómo puede el dibujo hacer mundos más habitables, reivindicando “el derecho a la opacidad y a la diferencia”[1]?
Todas estas preguntas las habitamos durante el taller La ciudad de las sombras[2], que organizamos en el mes junio de 2024. Un taller de indagación para etnografiar la habitabilidad urbana ante un calor creciente y extenuante. En el taller invitamos a les participantes a explorar estrategias de dibujo para abrir imaginarios y explorar formas de registro y documentación que faciliten relacionarnos con sombras urbanas en contexto. Estas estrategias las pusimos en acción haciendo un recorrido a pie por diferentes puntos de del barrio de Poblenou en Barcelona, saliendo al encuentro con las sombras de la ciudad. Llevamos materiales de dibujo como lápices, rotuladores, papeles de diferentes gramajes y opacidades, cartulinas y tijeras. También material para practicar con la técnica de antotipia[3] (procesos de dibujo e impresión solar buscando modos de producción de imágenes inestables que favorezcan la afectividad ambiental[4]). Para ello utilizamos papeles emulsionados con espinacas preparados para solarizarse y generar así positivos de elementos que generan sombras: infraestructuras, vegetación, y otros elementos azarosos. Durante el paseo buscamos reaprender y acuerpar formas de registro y documentación, que implican unos tiempos y unos ritmos que nos exceden, que nos obligan y nos abren a la posibilidad de acercarnos a temporalidades propias del contexto y del objeto de estudio en este caso. Dibujar es en sí un acto sencillo, que pude ser relativamente inmediato, al alcance de la mano. Aquí, antes que un acto representacional, el dibujo cobra una dimensión afectiva, donde al prestar atención a sombras móviles, nos movemos con ellas. Así, dibujar una sombra implica atender a una presencia en movimiento y en relación; reparar en que su registro no produce una imagen fija, que documentarlas nos lleva a recorrer, a agacharnos, a sudar, a esperar y a trabajar con materiales tan inestables como sensibles.
Quisiéramos defender que esta experiencia de dibujo y de investigación experiencial es un modo de responder al desafío ambiental: urge activar una sensibilidad visual que nos pase por el cuerpo,[5] por la experiencia estética de los procesos de elaboración de imágenes y por desarrollar la sensibilidad en los haceres. Dibujando la sombra en contexto, la exploramos como una región por habitar o ya habitada.[6] Así, el dibujo se convierte en una herramienta central para explorar afectivamente formas de convivencia en tiempos de mutación climática.[7]
[1] Glissant, E. (1997). For Opacity. In Poetics of Relation (pp.189-194). University of Michigan Press.
[4] Giraldo, O. y Toro, I. (2020). Afectividad Ambiental. Sensibilidad, empatía, estéticas del habitar. México, Colegio de la Frontera Sur, Universidad Veracruzana.
Las Becas Leonardo de la Fundación BBVA están destinadas a apoyar el trabajo de investigadores y creadores culturales que, encontrándose en estadios intermedios de su carrera, se caractericen por una trayectoria científica, tecnológica o cultural altamente innovadora.
Al dotar a estas becas con el nombre propio de Leonardo da Vinci se quiere enfatizar los atributos característicos de esa figura universal de la cultura, destacadamente la pasión por el conocimiento, la apertura y exploración de nuevos campos y problemas, la interacción entre trabajo teórico y observacional o experimental, así como el diálogo y realimentación entre los dominios de las ciencias de la naturaleza y de la vida, la tecnología, las humanidades y las artes.
En correspondencia con su nombre, las «Becas Leonardo» se dirigen a facilitar el desarrollo de proyectos individuales que aborden facetas significativas y novedosas de objetos y cuestiones científicas, tecnológicas y culturales del presente, elegidas libremente por sus autores.
[ES] Ciudades que envejecen: Los futuros del urbanismo de la edad avanzada en el litoral español desea estudiar el litoral mediterráneo español como un laboratorio presente y futuro de distintas versiones de la ‘buena vida’ bajo el sol, en un momento peculiar en el que las crisis demográficas, de vivienda y medioambientales confluyen en una tormenta perfecta. En los últimos cincuenta años, la costa mediterránea española –uno de los mayores enclaves para la ‘migración de retiro’ en el continente europeo– se ha enfocado en el urbanismo de la edad avanzada (‘late life urbanism’) a través de una enorme inversión en infraestructuras urbanas de cuidado y en la transformación de la accesibilidad en viviendas, así como en equipamientos urbanos (transporte público, parques, playas).
En este contexto crítico de formas urbanas de envejecimiento, el proyecto tiene dos objetivos principales: (i) estudiar la genealogía del urbanismo de la edad avanzada (trabajo de campo y de archivo) en uno de los siguientes enclaves: la Costa Blanca (Alicante), la Costa del Sol (Málaga), el Maresme (Barcelona) o Mallorca; y (ii) elicitar la imaginación de futuros para la vida urbana de las ciudades que envejecen dentro de los límites planetarios (a través de talleres especulativos e inmersivos).
El proyecto tiene lugar entre octubre de 2024 y marzo de 2026.
[EN] Ageing Cities: The Futures of Late Life Urbanism on the Spanish coast wishes to study the Spanish Mediterranean coast as a present and future laboratory of versions of the ‘good life’ under the sun, at a peculiar moment when housing, demographic and environmental crises are coalescing into the perfect storm. For more than fifty years, the Spanish Mediterranean coast, one of the main hotspots of ‘retirement migration’ in the continent, has developed a signature approach to late life urbanism: with a great investment in urban infrastructures of care and urban accessibility transforming dwellings, as well as urban equipment, such as public transports, parks and beaches. In this critical context of urban forms of aging the project has two main objectives: (i) studying the genealogy of late life urbanism (undertaking fieldwork and archival research) in one of the following enclaves: Costa Blanca (Alicante), Costa del Sol (Málaga), Maresme (Barcelona) or Mallorca; and (ii) eliciting the imagination around the futures of late life urbanism (by means of immersive speculative workshops) within planetary boundaries.
The project will run from October 2024 to March 2026.
[CAT]Ciutats que envelleixen: Els futurs de l’urbanisme de l’edat avançada al litoral espanyolvol estudiar el litoral mediterrani espanyol com un laboratori present i futur de diferents versions de la ‘bona vida’ sota el sol, en un moment peculiar en què les crisis demogràfiques, habitacionals i mediambientals conflueixen en la tempesta perfecta. En els darrers cinquanta anys, la costa mediterrània espanyola – un dels principals enclavaments per a la ‘migració de retir’ al continent europeu – s’ha enfocat a l’urbanisme de l’edat avançada (‘late life urbanism’) a través d’una enorme inversió en infraestructures urbanes de cura i en la transformació de l’accessibilitat a vivendes, així com en equipaments urbans (transport públic, parcs, platges).
En aquest context crític de formes urbanes d’envelliment, el projecte té dos objectius principals: (i) estudiar la genealogia de l’urbanisme de l’edat avançada (treball de camp i d’arxiu) en un dels enclavaments següents: la Costa Blanca (Alacant) , la Costa del Sol (Màlaga), el Maresme (Barcelona) o Mallorca; i (ii) elicitar la imaginació de futurs per a la vida urbana de les ciutats que envelleixen dins dels límits planetaris (a través de tallers especulatius i immersius).
El projecte tindrà lloc entre l’octubre del 2024 i el març del 2026.
As part of an ongoing collaboration with architect Micol Rispoli, we recently published an article in the journal Design & Culture. This text stems from a mutual interest in re-thinking on the pedagogy of participatory design from the plural embodied experiences, in this case searching to learn to be affected by neurodiverse spatial pratice.
Design Before Design: Learning to be Affected by Neurodiverse Spatial Practices
Current ethical and political revivals of design pedagogy foreground the participation of neglected subjects in attempts to democratize design practice. This article explores what participatory design practitioners in architecture might be required to learn when reconfiguring their tasks in the wake of Science and Technology Studies (STS) approaches to Participatory Things: treating them as a more-than-human assembly and unfolding process. This requires designers and architects to engage in designing the “pre-conditions” of participatory practice, “learning to be affected” by variegated actors and their peculiar ways of dwelling. In describing our attempts at approximating ourselves to the spatial practices of a neurodivergent person, we suggest this requires taking into account more-than-verbal experiences that liberal understandings of participation tend to exclude. This approach is here discussed as “design before design”: a form of design practice learning from the alternative approaches to design practice that unfolding “things” might bring to the fore and invite to explore.
Recommended citation: Rispoli, M. & Criado, T.S. (2024). Design Before Design: Learning to be Affected by Neurodiverse Spatial Practices. Design and Culture, 16(3), 357–381 | PDF
Requiere inscripción previa | Máximo 20 participantes | Se emite certificado de participación (1 ECTS) | Se llevará a cabo en su mayoría en castellano (en el trabajo informal no habrá problema en comunicarse en catalán e inglés)
[ES] La ciudad de las sombras: Etnografiar la habitabilidad urbana en tiempos de mutación climática (17-21 de junio de 2024 | Barcelona)
Este taller es una invitación a co-crear y explorar cómo hacer existir un Departamento de Umbrología, entregado al estudio de y la intervención en la vida urbana de las sombras: una umbrología que atienda tanto a los aspectos físicos y materiales como a las relaciones sociales y culturales de las sombras. Para hacerlo existir, a través de distintas actividades queremos entrenarnos a apreciar esta relación ambiental: dedicándonos al estudio etnográfico de las complejas relaciones entre el sol y los edificios, la calle o los árboles, así como el papel que distintos tipos de sombras pueden tener para distintas personas o colectivos y sus modos de sobrevivir al calor abrasador.
[CAT] La ciutat de les ombres: Etnografiar l’habitabilitat urbana en temps de mutació climàtica (17-21 de juny de 2024 | Barcelona)
El taller és una invitació a co-crear i explorar com fer existir un Departament d’Umbrologia, lliurat a l’estudi de i la intervenció en la vida urbana de les ombres: una umbrologia que atengui tant els aspectes físics i materials com les relacions socials i culturals de les ombres. Per fer-ho existir, a través de diferents activitats volem entrenar-nos a apreciar aquesta relació ambiental: dedicant-nos a l’estudi etnogràfic de les complexes relacions entre el sol i els edificis, el carrer o els arbres, així com el paper que diferents tipus d’ombres poden tenir per diferents persones o col·lectius i les seves maneres de sobreviure a la calor abrasadora.
[EN] The city of shades: Ethnography of urban habitability in times of climate mutation (June 17-21, 2024 | Barcelona)
The workshop is an invitation to co-create and explore how to bring into existence a Department of Umbrology, namely, a space devoted to the study of and intervention in the urban life of shades: an umbrology that addresses both the physical and material aspects as well as the social and cultural relationships. of the shadows. To make it exist, we want to train ourselves – by means of different activities – to appreciate this environmental relationship: dedicating ourselves to the ethnographic study of the complex relationships between the sun and buildings, the street or trees, as well as the role that different types of shadows can have for different people or groups and their ways of surviving the scorching heat.
Diferentes paneles intergubernamentales alertan desde hace tiempo que la respuesta al cambio climático debe partir de las ciudades: asentamientos cada vez más poblados e infraestructuras complejas de cambiar desde los que necesitamos repensar la habitabilidad del planeta. La mutación climática en curso nos sitúa ante el reto de configurar nuevas ideas urbanas de cuidado, protección o refugio, que permitan formas plurales de habitar y que protejan a quienes pudieran estar más expuestos o sufrir más sus efectos devastadores. En ese sentido, vivimos un tiempo de urgencia y de búsqueda frenética de soluciones. Pero en situaciones de gran incertidumbre, donde cómo responder es un asunto a veces complicado de imaginar, quizá necesitemos entrenarnos a prestar atención a lo aparentemente irrelevante, pero crucial. Ese es el objeto primordial de este taller, que quiere poner el foco en las sombras: entidades aparentemente ínfimas, pero que articulan nuestra vida urbana y nuestras relaciones cotidianas con el sol y el calor.
Sin duda, no hay nada más convencional que la sombra. En tanto seres terráqueos todos tenemos una. Pero pensar la sombra urbana puede ser algo mucho más profundo, puesto que nos obliga a prestar atención de otra manera a nuestros entornos cotidianos. De hecho, ¿qué es la sombra, sino una relación cambiante en que entramos con el sol a medida que atraviesa nuestros hábitats a lo largo del día? Solemos atribuir al sol la capacidad de dar vida, pero ¿qué hacer cuando nos daña o nos pone en riesgo, como ocurre en condiciones atmosféricas de calor extremo? Con esa clave, nuestra vida terrestre pudiera ser leída como una larga historia interespecífica de cómo los vivientes hemos aprendido a protegernos de su irradiación. La misma atmósfera, con su compleja circulación del aire, los mares y las riberas de los ríos o el tapiz irisado de las nubes y los bosques no son sino un gran sistema, con expresiones locales, de formas de captar, regular, disipar o bloquear los rayos del sol. Pero, también, de producir sombra.
Aunque la sombra es una vieja conocida, la creciente preocupación ambiental ha hecho que administraciones y profesionales de todo tipo hayan comenzado a recuperar esta relación ambiental cotidiana. Es más, a pesar de que suela ser considerada como un producto secundario del sol, su versión en negativo, ¿y si la sombra fuera condición misma de la habitabilidad en la tierra y, por ende, en nuestros entornos urbanos? Por esto mismo ha cobrado gran importancia en distintas soluciones técnicas para hacer frente al calor extremo del presente: planes municipales de sombras, itinerarios bioclimáticos o infraestructuras de sombreado. Esto está requiriendo revitalizar saberes y técnicas antiguos, así como especular y crear nuevas soluciones para mitigar y adaptarnos ante el calor creciente.
En un momento así, necesitamos también abordar la vida social y cultural de las sombras, sean estas ya existentes o diseñadas. En un presente acalorado, donde la capacidad de cobijarnos del sol abrasador es un bien mal repartido, revitalizar sus saberes y prácticas generativas quizá sea crucial para reaprender a vivir como seres terráqueos. Para ello, quizá necesitemos, como sugiere el escritor Tim Horvath en su cuento The discipline of shadows, crear un ‘Departamento de Umbrología‘ en cada uno de nuestros territorios.
El taller es una invitación a co-crear y explorar cómo hacer existir ese espacio, entregado al estudio de y la intervención en la vida urbana de las sombras: una umbrología que atienda tanto a los aspectos físicos y materiales como a las relaciones sociales y culturales de las sombras. Para hacerlo existir, a través de distintas actividades queremos entrenarnos a apreciar esta relación ambiental: dedicándonos al estudio etnográfico de las complejas relaciones entre el sol y los edificios, la calle o los árboles, así como el papel que distintos tipos de sombras pueden tener para distintas personas o colectivos y sus modos de sobrevivir al calor abrasador.
Partiendo de una sensibilidad antropológica queremos: (i) trabajar en el diseño de pequeños materiales para realizar investigaciones de campo; y (ii) hacer un inventario de prácticas espaciales cotidianas, centrado en la relación que diferentes personas tienen con nuestras perpetuas compañeras como habitantes bajo el sol. Así, haremos aparecer otra ciudad, la ciudad de las sombras, normalmente pasada por alto. Y nos entregaremos a entender su complejidad social, así como la multiplicidad de actores y ensamblajes que la constituyen: las formas de generar sombra, por parte de y para quiénes, así como las formas de socialidad que permiten, sus tiempos, sus ritmos y sus espacios.
Público
– El taller está especialmente dirigido a profesionales, investigadoras y estudiantes de grado, máster o doctorado de las artes, las ciencias sociales (antropología, geografía, estudios sociales de la ciencia y la tecnología, sociología), las humanidades, el diseño y la arquitectura, interesados por la etnografía y el estudio social de cuestiones urbanas o ambientales.
– Mientras que un conocimiento de la práctica etnográfica es deseable, no se requiere conocimiento previo sobre diseño para el cambio climático o sobre la física de las sombras.
Objetivos
– Abrir a reflexión colectiva los modos de respuesta urbana al cambio climático, colaborando con un proyecto de prototipado en curso, produciendo infraestructuras de sombra estacional (reto de sombreado efímero).
– Generar un proceso de intercambio interdisciplinar sobre cómo indagar la ciudad en tiempos de cambio climático, prestando atención a las sombras como fenómeno social.
– Inventar dispositivos de indagación urbana desde los que repensar las formas de relevancia de las artes, las humanidades y las ciencias en un momento donde priman las soluciones técnicas.
Programa
DÍA 1 | LUNES 17 DE JUNIO DE 2024
Lugar: U0.3, Planta 0 Edifici U, Universitat Oberta de Catalunya (C. Perú 52) y diversos lugares cercanos de interés
9:30-10:00 Presentación del taller: La necesidad de un departamento de umbrología
10:00-11:00 Presentaciones inaugurales
Prestar atención a las sombras urbanas: Zonas críticas de la habitabilidad contemporánea (Tomás Criado, UOC)
Etnografiar urbanidades ínfimas en tiempos de mutación climática(Santiago Orrego, HU Berlin)
11:00-11:15 Pausa-café
11:15-11:45 Propuesta de trabajo por grupos y dinamización
11:45-13:30 Documentar sombras en contexto, a cargo de Carla Boserman (UCM): un paseo guiado por distintas áreas del Poblenou –– (1) parque central del Poblenou e inmediaciones de Ca l’Alier, (2) parque del Poblenou y playa de Bogatell, (3) c. de Marià Aguiló y (4) la superilla del Poblenou –– documentando en grupos configuraciones de sombras
13:30-14:00 Puesta en común
DÍA 2 | MARTES 18 DE JUNIO DE 2024
Lugar: U0.3, Planta 0 Edifici U, Universitat Oberta de Catalunya (C. Perú 52)
9:30-12:30 Taller por grupos: Creación colaborativa de dispositivos para un departamento de umbrología.
Una sesión donde, recuperando las configuraciones estudiadas en el paseo guiado, entremos en el diseño de pequeños elementos de papel a partir de los que (1) analizar y tipificar configuraciones sociales de las sombras urbanas, (2) imaginar dispositivos de campo para futuras indagaciones, (3) testear sus posibilidades y (4) ponerlos en común para imaginar un departamento de umbrología.
12:30-14:00 Discusión del taller tras presentación de Isaac Marrero (UB), Etnografía multimodal y la política de la invención
14:00-15:30 Pausa / comida
15:30-17:00 Presentación a cargo de Fernando Domínguez Rubio (UC San Diego), La ficción como método. Acompañan: Daniel López & Israel Rodríguez Giralt (UOC)
DÍA 3 | MIÉRCOLES 19 DE JUNIO DE 2024
Lugar: Pg. Marìtim de la Barceloneta, 32-34 y Pl. Leonardo da Vinci
9:30-14:00 El primer encargo del departamento de umbrología: La vida social de las infraestructuras de sombra efímera en el espacio público
Puesta a prueba de los pequeños dispositivos etnográficos generados y discusión in situ de las adaptaciones necesarias para estudiar las configuraciones sociales que cada uno de estos prototipos implican: los usos y formas de socialidad que permiten, sus tiempos/ritmos y sus espacios.
Con los dispositivos generados se entrará en relación con los actores que transiten o habiten esos nuevos espacios de sombra, prestando atención a sus configuraciones de vulnerabilidad o exposición, así como a sus saberes y recursos. Tras cada visita se discutirán posibles cambios necesarios
DÍA 4 | JUEVES 20 DE JUNIO DE 2024
Lugar: Rambla de Badal, 113 + U0.3, Planta 0 Edifici U, Universitat Oberta de Catalunya (C. Perú 52)
9:30-11:30 El primer encargo del departamento de umbrología: La vida social de las infraestructuras de sombra efímera en el espacio público
Puesta a prueba de los pequeños dispositivos etnográficos generados y discusión in situ de las adaptaciones necesarias para estudiar las configuraciones sociales que cada uno de estos prototipos implican: los usos y formas de socialidad que permiten, sus tiempos/ritmos y sus espacios.
Con los dispositivos generados se entrará en relación con los actores que transiten o habiten esos nuevos espacios de sombra, prestando atención a sus configuraciones de vulnerabilidad o exposición, así como a sus saberes y recursos. Tras cada visita se discutirán posibles cambios necesarios
11:30-12:30 Desplazamiento
12:30-14:00 Puesta en común
14:00-15:30 Comida
15:30-17:00 Tarde de trabajo por grupos en los prototipos
DÍA 5 | VIERNES 21 DE JUNIO DE 2024
Lugar: Bit Habitat, Ca l’Alier (c. Pere IV 362)
9:30-10:30 Presentación a cargo de Francisco Martínez (Tampere University), Por un observatorio de sombras. Cómo entre-ver lo que ocurre en la oscuridad
10:30-10:45 Pausa
10:45-12:45 Equipar futuros departamentos de umbrología: Sesión de documentación colaborativa de los dispositivos generados en pequeños formatos como el fanzine (en colaboración con el projecte de micro-edición y publicación abierta pliegOS.net), con la idea de inspirar la creación de departamentos de umbrología en otros contextos.
12:45-13:00 Pausa
13:00-14:00 Relatoría final y discusión a cargo de Adolfo Estalella (UCM), La experimentación etnográfica y su archivo
Documentación
La documentación generada en el taller por las distintas personas participantes será archivada en abierto tanto en el Departamento de Umbrología como en xcol y Tarde
Financiación
Este taller está co-financiado conjuntamente por el Programa Nacional de Investigación Científica, Técnica y de Innovación de España 2021-2023 (RYC2021-033410-I) y por las Setmanes d’Arquitectura 2024 (Ajuntament de Barcelona / Fundació Mies van der Rohe)
Editorial note: Landscaping Pavements is the first issue in a series of urban explorations that are part of an ongoing collaboration between Tarde and xcol.org.
We, modernist urbanites, tend to have a very strange relation to the streets we tread on as if walking was an act of material oblivion. Indeed, every step seems to push us further away from them instead of bringing us closer to the ground. It’s as if the pavements we walk on permanently disappeared from view: their silent permanence, stubborn smoothness, and standardized sturdiness becoming almost unthinkable. As if they were just there, supporting without mattering much, as well-ordered stages of public life, quintessential furniture of liberal ideas of politics: our contemporary agora! [1] So much so that only children dare to ask: who has laid the streets overnight for us to walk on them?
The streets and the sidewalks, as we know them, need to be conceived, invented, and installed, and they are permanently under maintenance. Hence, pavements, not just pedestrians, also deserve a genealogy! [2] In fact, they bear in them the imprint of the clean slate of progress and modernity: from their durable materials – tarmac or granite, you name it – extracted from the belly of the Earth to their bulldozed modes of construction as perfectly sealed soils [3]. This is their secret engine, the unrevealed truth, the machinery they conceal, so we don’t think much of them.
Even if there have been many traditions of incredible technical prowess, creating walkable roads and ways across the globe – The Great Wall of China! The Andean Qhapac Ñan! – paved streets stand out as a peculiarly modernist infrastructure: the result of early Modern zonification to prevent killings from horse and chariot transit, subject to subsequent endless policing and reforms for the sake of hygiene and decorum. Later on paving, literally, the way for automotion to take the world as a hostage [4].
Their construction has brought about the modern city as we know it and has also partaken in assembling its quintessential walkers: from the need to wear shoes to the compacted ground on which we walk. So much so that the beloved flâneur of Walter Benjamin cannot be thought of but as an infrastructural being, the result of Hausmann’s spatial reordering: nature below, what only experts can access to, culture above, for us to window-shop into eternity [5]. The academic and political centrality of a white, able-bodied male figure standing out for the profound oblivion of the material world that bore its creation is also a symbol of many things that cannot go on, damn urban studies!
In the meantime, Euro-American urbanists seem to have been captured with what Gordon Cullen called ‘townscapes’: a rather peculiar form of landscape design promising visual coherence, orderliness, and organization of “the jumble of buildings, streets, and space that make up the urban environment”[6]. The frenzy of late 19th-century urban modernization laid the grounds for pavements to become everyday, more highly technical endeavors. This is the marvelous tale historian of art Danae Esparza recounted in her incredible book Barcelona a ras de suelo (Barcelona at ground level)[7]: a detailed exploration of the perpetual redesign that the city’s pavements have undergone since the Romans. One of the most salient features being the devoted efforts in the last one hundred years to engineer their durable and stable foundations – compacting the soil, layering insulation materials like aggregate – together with patterning the outer crust, its walkability and grip, in attempts at rendering urban space readable: a legible milieu? Nothing represents this better than the Panot Gaudí, “the hexagonal hydraulic tile he [architect Antoni Gaudí] designed in 1904 in conjunction with Escofet”[8]. As a result of the work of the municipality, together with corporations that have specialized in designing ‘urban elements,’ pavements have become part of a system: one more element of a catalog of products by which a deeply modernist city is perpetually made and remade into a static image of itself, a collage of ready-made building types, their additions and subtractions.
The tensions that these demands generate were apparent in a rare gem of an exhibition, titled Debaixo dos nossos pés (Under our feet)[9], which opened Lisbon’s inner guts to foreground a multi-layered display of pavements from the times of its first inhabitants to the present. The exhibition happened at a time of increasing pressures for urban standardization, not just having city branding at their core but also concerns for accessibility, desperately demanded by disabled and older people for decades. The strange lure and aestheticization of an urban image can also happen at the expense of traditional forms of street-making, pushing aside those who manipulate them. This has become evident in public struggles to keep their early modern ‘traditional’ configuration (calçada portuguesa, a peculiar form of cobblestone-based pattern) and the communities of practice of their soon-to-be-extinct trade (calceteiros), unless turned into World Heritage, a paradoxical fixation to resist a more contemporary fixity?
Ecologically speaking, this fixation is also highly problematic. In his signature process-oriented anthropology, which attends to the dynamic processes of sentient beings’ world-formation, Tim Ingold takes issue with the modernist practice of hard surfacing the earth because it “actually blocks the very intermingling of substances with the medium that is essential to life, growth, and inhabitation”[10].
This is far from being a cumbersome theoretical issue: the European Environmental Agency has been alerting for years of the many problems that sealed soils are bringing to the fore– related to heat island effects and underground degradation –particularly in urban settings[11]. As a consequence, environmentally-minded architects and urban planners have started to uncover ‘the beach beneath the street’: depaving the streets or creating porous sidewalk materials to foster the important underground soil relations essential to life on Earth[12].
Far from being the dirt beneath our shoes, in geography, anthropology, and environmental humanities, the very soils we used to tread on are increasingly becoming a matter of relational engendering with different beings, animating newer forms of social theory and eco-political practice[13]. The world beneath our feet, hence, appears before us as a moving territory with its own history, formed – or even ‘terraformed’ – by a wide variety of beings, from worms and plants to different animals and human groups.
Perhaps there would be no better way to re-enliven pavements and their politics than to treat them as landscapes in their own right. Not in the early modern sense of the term – used in geography and other cognate disciplines to fixate stable nature-cultural patterns[14] – or in the same sense that still breathes in the notion of townscape mentioned before, but in a new materialist sense: thinking from their complex temporal and spatial material interconnectedness and their ongoing, engendering process[15]. All of a sudden, the streets we walk cease being the same. What appeared static, indeed, moves! Pavements are, indeed, terraformed. This can happen in strange and imperceptible ways as part of the earthly transformation of microbiota or weeds. However, pavements are also ‘being moved’ due to violent capitalist extraction, as it happens in the far-away travels of many of the anonymous materials that constitute the world at our feet, captured landscapes whose origins remain obscure[16].
Holding these two forms of terraformation in tension, treating pavements as landscapes – put otherwise, ‘landscaping’ pavements – might be a way for them to start speaking back. Not as the mute foundations of the present but in their strange temporal mash-ups: between deep and shallow time. Manuel de Landa provides an apt metaphor for this approach to city-making: “About 8000 years ago, human populations began mineralizing … when they developed an urban exoskeleton, bricks of sun-dried clay became building materials, stone monuments, and defensive walls”[17]. A good example of this mineralization, a peculiar form of landscaping pavements, is the city of Rome. But not the classic and boring take that obsessed many neoclassic and fascist architects and artists. I’m thinking here of the fantastic visualizations landscape architect Kristi Cheramie has worked hard to unearth: in them, Rome appears formed as a concatenation of acts of landscaping. The contemporary city is deeply entrenched in the terraformation that the ancient one undertook. A geological entity whose complex boundaries are also those of the very Mediterranean olive oil trade, sedimenting a way of living as well as the mode of circulation that saw its growth and demise [18]. Landscaping pavements enable us to study and dimension the agents involved, their temporal and spatial effects, their material configurations, and their acts of becoming with them [19]. Thus understood, our urban arenas appear as layered compounds, ongoing palimpsests through and through [20]. Conceived in this way, the city, as Francesc Perers calls it in a rather peculiar photo-book on Barcelona’s sidewalk archaeology, turns into “a cohabitation of strata”[21].
How could we begin to exercise this landscaping approach when we walk?[22] What exercises could we engage to reconnect to and partake in these underground palimpsests that are also our very mineral and multispecies condition? How do we liberate pavements and inhabit closer to them, entering into newer urban formations?[23]
The exercises proposed in this issue wish to propose concrete avenues for this to happen. Following them, perhaps the next time you walk into the streets, walking might just be the beginning of a passionate conversation at the tip of your feet:
What could you tell me, oh, anonymous piece of stone?
From what quarry do you come from? Who took you from the belly of the Earth? Who broke and dismembered you from the common body of other stones, using what machine? What standard shaped you? How might others resist the corset you provide? How will you let me walk on you when it rains?
Oh, you macadam, strange collective body, interconnected and singular, strangely one, what life can you also give? How have you been prepared for me to tread you, using what procedures? Under what technical or parliamentary regulations? How could you resist this encounter?
Oh, you all strange pavements: What life do you also partake of? What new city could we engender, together with the others who could crack you, and make you into their new home?
Online references
[1] Loukaitou-Sideris, A., & Ehrenfeucht, R. (2011). Sidewalks: Conflict and Negotiation over Public Space. MIT.
[2] Blomley, N. (2011). Rights of Passage: Sidewalks and the Regulation of Public Flow. Routledge.
[3] Ammon, F. (2016). Bulldozer: Demolition and Clearance of the Postwar Landscape. Yale University Press.
[4] Norton, P. D. (2008). Fighting Traffic: The Dawn of the Motor Age in the American City. MIT.
[5] Meulemans, G. (2017). The Lure of Pedogenesis: An Anthropological Foray into Making Urban Soils in Contemporary France. PhD in Anthropology, University of Aberdeen; Domínguez Rubio, F., & Fogué, U. (2013). Technifying Public Space and Publicizing Infrastructures: Exploring New Urban Political Ecologies through the Square of General Vara del Rey. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, 37(3), 1035–1052.
[6] Cullen, G. (1961). The Concise Townscape. Routledge.
[7] Esparza, D. (2017). Barcelona a ras de suelo. Universitat de Barcelona Edicions.
[13] Salazar, J. F., Granjou, C., Kearnes, M., Krzywoszynska, A. & Tironi, M. (Eds). (2020). Thinking with Soils: Material Politics and Social Theory. Bloomsbury.
[15] Seibert, M. (Ed.). (2021). Atlas of material worlds: Mapping the agency of matter for a new landscape practice. Routledge; Harkness, R. (2017). An Unfinished Compendium of Materials. University of Aberdeen.
[16] Cronon, W. (1992) Nature’s Metropolis: Chicago and the Great West. W.W. Norton and Co.; Hutton, J. (2020). Reciprocal Landscapes: Stories of Material Movements. Routledge.
[17] de Landa, M. (1997: 26-27). A Thousand Years of Non-Linear History. Zone Books.
[18] Cheramie, K. (2020). Through Time and the City: Notes on Rome. Routledge.
[19] Gisbert Alemany, E. (2022). To do a landscape: Variations of the Costa Blanca. PhD in Architecture. University of Alicante
[20] Mattern, S. (2017). Code and Clay, Data and Dirt: Five Thousand Years of Urban Media. University of Minnesota Press; for a challenging example, see the Ghost Rivers “public art project & walking tour, rediscovering hidden streams and histories that run beneath our feet”: https://ghostrivers.com/
[21] Perers, F. (2017: 131) Voreres. La memòria subtil. Ajuntament de Barcelona.
[22] Mattern, S. (2013). Infrastructural Tourism: From the Interstate to the Internet. Places. https://placesjournal.org/article/infrastructural-tourism/; Kanouse, S. (2015). Critical Day Trips: Tourism and Land-Based Practice. In E. E. Scott & K. Swenson (2015). Critical landscapes: Art, space, politics (pp. 43-56). University of California Press; Shepherd, N., & Ernsten, C. (2021). An Anthropocene journey. In H. S. Rogers, M. K. Halpern, K. D. Ridder-Vignone, & D. Hannah, Routledge Handbook of Art, Science, and Technology Studies (pp. 563–576). Routledge.
[23] Duperrex, M. (2022). La rivière et le bulldozer. Premier Parallèle.
***
This number experiments with a different folding format. Although it starts with an A4 piece of paper and keeps the original A7 form when it is folded, the process of assembling it changes dramatically. The most notorious of those changes is the design of a small foldable gallery by taking advantage of different paper cuts.
At a time when market logics have become the hegemonic operating rationale of many governments, some public officers and bureaucrats worldwide seem to have undergone their own revolution in recent decades. At times referred to as a ‘creative turn’ in their practice (as in the annual Creative Bureaucracy Festival), at other times discussed as part of a ‘new municipalist’ transformation of public action (Bianchi 2022), urban bureaucracies seem to be going through a profound process of reinvention, seeking to renew their tools and approaches: from participatory budgeting or community involvement in policymaking to co-creation competitions and citizen laboratories that expand the range of knowledge and sensibilities in urban governance. As if Paul du Gay’s praise for their work (du Gay, 2000; Pedersen & du Gay, 2020) had caught on in the public sector, bureaucrats in many of these cases appear no longer as sinister machinic operators of Kafkaesque state violence, but as hopeful and flexible practitioners promoting many forms of public good. In our view, such ‘bureaucratic reinventions’ demand the attention of scholars interested in “material cultural practice in the organisation of the economy and the social” – one of JCE’s main aims – in at least two ways.
On the one hand, in line with relevant material-semiotic accounts of the practices of government (Hull, 2012a & 2012b) and the law (Kang, 2018; Kang & Kendall, 2019), how might we make these bureaucratic reinventions amenable to agnostic ethnographic study? This may require close attention to the ways in which bureaucrats in different sectors and departments deploy different legal and economic devices in different attempts at relational planning (Kurath, Marskamp, Paulos & Ruegg, 2018), on different issues in different places. Such attention to ‘bureaucratic reinventions’ would be an interesting way of empirically refocusing the much interesting work on market arrangements (Callon, 2021) – especially those interested in the specificity of economic arrangements for shared concerns (Frankel, Ossandón & Pallesen, 2019), as well as the predicaments markets face in ‘problem-solving’ (Neyland, Ehrenstein & Milyaeva, 2019) – for contemporary forms of government. In what ways are these bureaucratic reinventions more conducive to the public good than the actions of the market? To what extent might they be ‘performing different economies’ (Roelvink, St. Martin & Gibson-Graham, 2015) beyond the market?
On the other hand, we suggest that these bureaucratic reinventions alter the ways in which social researchers can approach these spaces or find ways to become relevant to them. Beyond critical takes or consultancy work, how might bureaucratic reinventions signal a new paradigm for research? Drawing on the work of Douglas Holmes and George Marcus (2005) on ‘para-sites’ – places of the contemporary populated by epistemic communities interested in inquirying on similar topics to researchers, and with whom ethnographers can enter in collaborative relations – what do these places mean for the ways in which we might study them? Indeed, various colleagues are also immersing themselves in the creative ethos of these renewed bureaucracies, experimenting with forms of joint problem-making (Estalella & Criado, 2018), sometimes drawing on cultural practitioners and the arts to explore other forms of relevance.
With this double lens, in this special issue we are inviting papers paying detailed ethnographic attention to (i) the assemblages and devices of peculiar bureaucratic reinventions and the forms of government there emerging, their predicaments and problems, as well as (ii) the singular research engagements that they might bring to the fore. As indicated above, these approaches will help us to shed light on the reorganisation of the social and the economic, while at the same time addressing an object of research, the city, which has long been approached and criticised as an arena of corporate entrepreneurship (Harvey, 1989; Jessop, 2003), neoliberal development (Graham and Marvin, 2001; Graham et al., 2019), and financialised activity (Aalbers, 2019).
Please submit your 400-word abstract (excluding references) and biography (up to 250 words) to tomcriado AT uoc.edu and julio.paulos AT arch.ethz.ch by July 5, 2024.
Selected authors will be expected to submit a full draft of their paper by 15 February, 2025.
Timeline
Reception of abstracts: July 5th, 2024
Selection (Notification of acceptance): September 6th, 2024
Authors’ workshop with draft papers: March 2025
Initial manuscripts for editorial comment: April-May 2025
Submission of special issue for JCE review: July 2025
References
Aalbers, M.B. 2020. Financial Geography III: The Financialization of the City. Progress in Human Geography 44(3): 595–607.
Bianchi, I. 2023. The Commonification of the Public under New Municipalism: Commons–State Institutions in Naples and Barcelona. Urban Studies 60 (11): 2116–32.
Callon, M. (2021). Markets in the Making: Rethinking Competition, Goods, and Innovation. Zone Books.
du Gay, P. (2000). In Praise of Bureaucracy: Weber, Organization, Ethics. Sage.
Estalella, A. & T. S. Criado (2018) (Eds.). Experimental Collaborations: Ethnography through Fieldwork Devices. Berghahn.
Frankel, C., Ossandón, J., & Pallesen, T. (2019). The organization of markets for collective concerns and their failures. Economy and Society, 48(2), 153–174.
Graham, S., & Marvin, S. (2001). Splintering Urbanism: Networked Infrastructures, Technological Mobilities, and the Urban Condition. Routledge.
Graham, M., Kitchin, R., Mattern, S., & Shaw, J. (Eds.). (2019). How to Run a City like Amazon, and Other Fables. Meatspace.
Harvey, D. (1989). From Managerialism to Entrepreneurialism: The Transformation in Urban Governance in Late Capitalism. Human Geography, 71(1), 3–17.
Hull, M. S. (2012a). Documents and Bureaucracy. Annual Review of Anthropology, 41, 251–267.
Hull, M. S. (2012b). Government of Paper: The Materiality of Bureaucracy in Urban Pakistan. University of California Press.
Jessop, B. (2003). The Future of the Capitalist State. Polity Press.
Kang, H. Y. (2018). Law’s materiality. In Routledge Handbook of Law and Theory (pp. 453–474). Routledge.
Kang, H. Y., & Kendall, S. (2019). Introduction to the special issue “Legal Materiality.” Law Text Culture, 23, 1–15.
Kurath, M., Marskamp, M., Paulos, J., & Ruegg, J. (Eds.). (2018). Relational Planning: Tracing Artefacts, Agency and Practices. Springer.
Holmes, D. R., & Marcus, G. E. (2005). Cultures of Expertise and the Management of Globalization: Toward the Re-Functioning of Ethnography. In A. Ong & S. J. Collier (Eds.), Global Assemblages: Technology, Politics, and Ethics as Anthropological Problems (pp. 235–252). Blackwell.
Neyland, D., Ehrenstein, V., & Milyaeva, S. (2019). Can markets solve problems?An empirical inquiry into neoliberalism in action. Goldsmiths Press.
Pedersen, K. Z., & du Gay, P. (2021). COVID-19 and the Flexibility of the Bureaucratic Ethos. In J. Waring, J.-L. Denis, A. R. Pedersen, & T. Tenbensel (Eds.), Organising Care in a Time of Covid-19 (pp. 99–120). Palgrave Macmillan.
Roelvink, G., St. Martin, K., & Gibson-Graham, J. K. (Eds.). (2015). Making Other Worlds Possible: Performing Diverse Economies. Minnesota University Press.
I took the occasion to share my vision for what I have been calling not Public Anthropology but, rather, A Publics’ Anthropology!
A Publics’ Anthropology: Setting up ecologies of collective speculation
What does it mean to undertake anthropological work in contemporary domains populated by a wide variety of ‘publics’, ranging from technical experts to affected communities? Publics are perhaps the main collective condition of knowledge production and circulation in the contemporary: not just as media-provoked entities–e.g. the ‘public sphere’ or scientific and professional societies, connected through ‘publications’–, but also the many uncertain and emergent collectives that gather in different degrees of involvement under issues of concern, using a variety of mediums. As I see it, an anthropology aware of its public dimension should not just be one engaging in public criticism, but also, and perhaps mainly, one transformed by the very relation to publics, developing different forms of engagement and exploring different aims and effects. In my work, I have been inspired to do this in activist design endeavours with different kinds of urban agents. To discuss the different forms a publics’ anthropology might entail, in this session I’ll share with you two recent projects working with municipal actors setting up ecologies of collective speculation: the game Waste What?, an interdisciplinary team production as part of studying activist circular economy projects in Berlin, searching to simulate the conundrums of these initiatives as well as provoke a reflection on their predicaments; and the Department of Umbrology, a collective speculative experiment equipping a proto-municipal division to inquire on the social dimensions of heat mitigation projects, in the hope that his might sensitise technical professionals to consider the social in the plural.
