In recent decades, the discussion of meaning in architecture has consistently occupied a portion of architectural discourse, and in many architectural theory books, we encounter such questions: Is architecture a representational art? Is architecture a kind of language or semiotic structure? And if so, is the language of architecture conventional and cultural, or is it founded upon universal and transcultural existential factors? Does architecture essentially contain meaning? In other words, what are the ways in which architecture speaks to us? How do buildings acquire meaning? In this article, drawing upon the recent achievements of cognitive science, I will address the inadequacy of linguistic theories that attempt to reduce architecture to linguistic rules or to a semiotic system, and I will argue for the necessity of moving beyond the semiotic paradigm and adopting an embodied approach to meaning. Perhaps the time has come to reconsider the ineffective communicative model of sender-message-receiver and the interpretation of the world and the work of art as text. To this end, without the temptation of a comprehensive or complete treatment of the subject or a final conclusion, and merely for the purpose of raising the issue and creating a basis for further dialogue, I will discuss architectural affordances at three levels that may provide a foundation for redefining architectural meaning in an embodied manner.
Logocentrism and Architecture as Language. Although the history of the analogy between architecture and language dates back to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the theoretical efforts of that era to search for an architectural language suited to its time, it was with the linguistic revolution of the twentieth century and the spread of semiotics, structuralism, and post-structuralism—especially from the 1960s onward—that linguistic theory was introduced as one of the important paradigms of architectural theory. Architects, by studying how meaning is transmitted in language and by employing the "linguistic analogy," addressed the question of to what extent architecture, like language, is conventional, and how these conventions contribute to the construction of meaning. Semiotics and structuralism, and their prevailing view of language as a closed system or a system of signs that simultaneously possesses both syntactic and semantic aspects, were initially employed as a scientific tool for architectural education in the curriculum of some architecture schools. In the 1960s as well, with the reinforcement of the view that architecture is a meaningful semiotic system, the discussion of the problem of meaning in architecture became one of the most important debates of the day, addressed in numerous books. (Ricwert, Schultz, Jencks, Umberto Eco, Alexander, and others.) Furthermore, with the initial premise that architecture functions as a language, multiple attempts were made to codify the grammar and grammatical rules of classical architecture (Summerson), modern architecture (Bruno Zevi), and postmodern architecture (Charles Jencks) in the 1960s and 1970s. In subsequent decades as well, post-structuralist thinking—and one of its important manifestations, deconstruction, which considered meaning to be indeterminate, elusive, and infinite, and which engaged in the decomposition of signs, the free play of signifiers, and the deferral of meaning in an endless chain of metaphors—entered architectural discourse. In this view, with the questioning of
the role of the author, the deconstruction of the hidden ideologies of architecture took the place of the futile and nostalgic search for meaning in architecture. Form and syntactic structure of language were pushed to the margins. The semantic and independent aspects were placed at the center of attention. Eisenman, who in his doctoral dissertation had addressed architectural form as a conceptual problem independent of functional, iconographic, perceptual, metaphysical, and even aesthetic dimensions, proposed the idea of cardboard architecture—emptying form of any function and semantic connection. Inspired by Noam Chomsky's linguistic model, he turned to the syntactic aspect of architecture and the presentation of an architectural grammar for formal innovation without reference to social and semantic issues, and by emphasizing "form as content," he paved the way for various readings of the autonomy and independence of the architectural discipline in subsequent years. Although examining linguistic theories in twentieth-century architectural theory requires another essay, what is relevant to our discussion here are several fundamental premises in these theories whose incorrectness and inadequacy I will attempt to demonstrate in this article: First, in these theories, all human phenomena including architecture are considered a meaningful semiotic system and a kind of language that can be read and analyzed like a linguistic text. Second, language is assumed to be conventional and arising from the free play of signifiers, and therefore what holds the greatest importance is not semantic references to lived experience outside of language, but rather the syntactic structure and relations and connections between signs within language and their simultaneous
Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights - 5. The Treachery of Images, René Magritte - 3
distinction. And third, language and thought are considered abstract and conceptual matters that are associated with subjective affairs and with non-corporeal mental phenomena. This primacy of the word and language, and the abstract and disembodied view of it, is what is known in the Western philosophical tradition as logocentrism. In this prevailing type of thinking, thoughts are equated with linguistic propositions and are considered to be, in their essence, like language. As if we cannot think without language, and our thoughts, both in their semantic characteristics and their logical rules, resemble sentences of human language. In this view, thought and speech are similarly abstract, and what distinguishes humans from animals is considered to be the faculty of reason (logos). Thus, human consciousness is reduced to narrative consciousness, and other types of consciousness such as bodily awareness, non-verbal visual imagination, and phenomenal, pre-conceptual, and pre-linguistic consciousness are disregarded.
Cognitive Science and the Necessity of Revising the Concepts of Reason, Language, and Meaning. In recent decades, the extensive advancement of neuroscience and the evidence obtained from cognitive science challenge many of the philosophical presuppositions of logocentrism that have dominated the Western philosophical tradition for sometimes more than two thousand years, and make a comprehensive reassessment of our understanding of reason and the nature of the mind unavoidable. George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, in the book Philosophy in the Flesh: The Embodied Mind and Its Challenge to Western Thought, identify three fundamental conclusions from the findings of cognitive science: First, reason, as the Western philosophical tradition claims, is not disembodied and abstract, but rather arises from the nature of our brain, our body, and our bodily experience. The advancement of neural imaging technologies (such as PET and fMRI) have made it possible for us to record the neurological aspects of the brain while performing various activities and to reach the astonishing conclusion that exactly the same neuronal structures that provide us with sensory-motor capabilities also give us the ability to create conceptual systems, language, and methods of reasoning. Therefore, reason is evolutionary and one can speak of a Darwinism of reason, because abstract reason is built upon the forms of sensory-motor inference that exist in animals.
Lakoff and Johnson even conclude that the mind is, in the final analysis, fundamentally embodied (Images 1 and 2). Many concepts (such as concepts of color, spatial relations, event structure, etc.) and many forms of human reasoning (such as categorization, metaphor, causality, time, etc.) are rooted in the neuronal structures of our brain (such as neural circuitry, neuronal categorization, schemas, etc.). Second, thought is predominantly unconscious—not in the Freudian sense of being repressed, but in the sense that it operates below the surface of cognitive awareness and occurs so rapidly that it does not come into the focus of attention. Conscious thought is like the tip of an enormous iceberg, and according to the findings of cognitive science, unconscious thought constitutes 95 percent of our total thinking, encompassing not only complex mental processes but also all our tacit knowledge and unconscious conceptual systems. And finally, reason is not entirely verbal and linguistic but is predominantly metaphorical and imaginative and always carries emotional and affective coloring. In like manner, conventional and traditional views about language have also been challenged. Speech originates not from words, but from a process of sensory and neural arousal that culminates in the verbal expression of words. Therefore, thought put into words is merely the last component of a process or reaction that is fundamentally embodied. The origin of language is gesture, and oral language has gradually been shaped by bodily movement and a particular type of body motion. The role of mental images and neural models in language has been the subject of much research in recent years, and it appears that language, contrary to common belief, is not a collection of conventional and arbitrary signs that take on new combinations in an ongoing language game. Finally, meaning too, contrary to the prevailing view, is not merely a linguistic matter. In Jean-Paul Sartre's words, "Every word is a sign; it shows itself and conveys a meaning, but meaning does not refer back to the word; rather, it indicates something to which the word has been reduced." Words play only a mediating role. René Magritte, in many of his works, points to the difference between the meaning of words and the meaning of images (Images 3 and 4), and for him, the image has the capacity to establish communication and transmit meaning without words and even beyond the meanings actualized in language. It seems that the prevailing understanding of meaning as a
linguistic and propositional matter can hardly be applied to artistic experience. Works of art and architectural structures are predominantly not linguistic signs and do not convey meaning like sentences and words. Meaning in works of art is usually a pre-linguistic and pre-conceptual matter. The work of art, through defamiliarization and the avoidance of employing conventional formulas and concepts reduced in language, generally tries to return us to the "threshold of being"—that is, an encounter with the world like a child who has not yet been ensnared by linguistic thinking. The world of art is a world of qualities that, without any need for reflective thought, are felt without mediation, are experienced, and give us meaning before and without language. Of course, language and other forms of symbolic interaction sometimes enrich the semantic possibilities of the work, but linguistic meaning is always superimposed upon and based on corporeal and qualitative meaning.
Perceptual Affordances. As Mark Johnson has explained in detail in his works, recent research in cognitive science has provided us with an extraordinarily richer perspective on the nature and origin of meaning. In this view, the meaning of any object, any quality, or any event has a relational, experiential, and active character and takes shape in reference to lived experience. The meaning of anything lies in the possible experiences and potential possibilities it offers us to engage with it in an embodied manner. Gibson, the eminent American psychologist, used the concept of "affordances or perceptual capabilities," meaning the recognition of action and interaction opportunities of objects or spaces in an immediate and pre-conceptual manner, to describe this type of corporeal meaning. For example, the meaning of a cup is not merely some abstract concept or a set of objective characteristics; rather, its meaning is the totality of actual and simulated experiences it can offer us. The visual characteristics of the cup, the affordances that its form and scale offer our hands and fingers for a kinetic and motor interaction to take shape, the way it feels when we pick it up in our hands, the smoothness of its ceramic surface and materials, its capacity for holding liquids, and in general all experiences that become possible through sensory-kinetic activation—all form part of the corporeal meaning of the cup. Some of these possibilities are our spontaneous experience in the present moment and the rediscovery of the perceptual, interactive, and emotional affordances of the object, and others are representations of our previous experiences with the object in the past. These experiences may be accompanied by personal memories and associations, or arise from cultural habits governing the use of an object learned in the past, or they may carry the meanings and potential possibilities of the object for future experience. But in all these cases, meaning—or the potential possibilities of actual experience (in the moment), simulated experience (from the past), or possible experience (in the future)—is the result of the nature of our brain and body, namely our perceptual apparatus, the capacity for neuronal connections in our brain, our emotional reactions, and our kinetic-motor program and our interactive engagement with the structures of the environment. In Johnson's words, "A cup affords grasping for a human being who has fingers, hands, and arms, whereas for an ant it probably affords climbing." In other words, the states of interaction and the simulation of meaning are proportional to the nature of each organism and its capacities for interaction with the objective characteristics of the environment (Image 5). On the other hand, recent research in neural imaging has revealed that seeing a cup is not merely a visual experience, but activates certain neurons in the cortical and pre-motor areas of the brain that would be activated if we were actually picking up a cup, playing with it, or drinking from it. In Juhani Pallasmaa's words, "Touch is the unconscious of vision," and vision entails touch, tactility, and corporeal representation and simulation. Interestingly, this same pre-motor cortex of the brain is involved in the production of speech, which is evidence that language has been built upon the ancient capacity of the brain to recognize action and hand gestures, or body language, and is ultimately grounded in corporeal meanings. Given the discovery of
mirror neurons in the 1990s, we now know that when we see someone performing a particular action, many of the sensory and motor neuronal clusters in our brain become activated—the same ones that would be activated if we ourselves performed that action. Therefore, contrary to common belief, meaning is not merely abstract and conceptual mental symbols, but a creative process in the course of which virtual experiences or corporeal simulations are constructed in our brain. Lawrence Barsalou, to describe these sensory-emotional-kinetic-motor representations that are simulated in our experience, used the term "perceptual symbols." Concepts, for him, are simulators that represent the various possible experiences with objects, events, or situations. Thus, in simulation-based semantics, language is understood through the mental simulation of our actual and corporeal experiences in interaction with the environment.
The Corporeal Meaning of Architecture. It seems that an embodied view of meaning, which entails multimodal, simulatory, and interactive processes, can be useful in explaining the meaning of architecture and can inspire interesting empirical and theoretical discussions. Although this perspective initially took shape as a form of resistance against the reductionisms of contemporary architecture (from formalism and functionalism to various computational methods in computer modeling), in recent years, given the advancement of cognitive science, it has been the subject of numerous books and articles, and one can expect it to become an important and influential critical discourse in the years ahead as well. Nevertheless, one should not rush to draw conclusions from these discussions, for that may lead to oversimplification of the arguments or a return to matters that are obvious and elementary, offering few alternatives for transcending the present situation. Therefore, in what follows, without seeking to draw conclusions from these discussions in a complete or comprehensive manner, and merely for the purpose of presenting more tangible examples and creating a basis for further dialogue, I will discuss architectural affordances at three levels:
1- Redefining Architectural Elements in Relation to Their Perceptual Affordances. Although architecture can be representational in various ways (such as pictorial, reproductive, or symbolic methods), the broadest concept of representation in architecture is the representation of aspects of human experience or the human condition. The meaning of many architectural elements is the imaging, simulation, or representation of human actions and their corporeal existence on earth. For example, the meaning of a staircase in architecture is not a conventional or abstractly conceptual matter; rather, there is something intrinsic and essential about its form and our perception or feeling of it that reinforces or suggests a particular type of activity and action. The staircase, with its proportions and height, resembles the dimensions of human steps and corresponds to the physical capabilities of humans in the act of ascending or descending on foot, and for this reason it provides the potential possibility of action and interaction for humans. The qualities of a staircase may even make other actions possible, such as sitting or pausing. Here, the discussion is not about reducing architectural elements to their function; rather, as Henry Plummer states in his book The Experience of Architecture, it is a discussion of the capacity of buildings and architectural elements to enhance or diminish the spontaneous powers of humans for action in space. Architecture can transcend habits and, by inviting the spontaneous actions that forms, elements, or spaces make possible, elevate itself to the level of genuine actions and engage the capabilities of humans, such as the physical agility of the body, the sensory and motor faculties, and corporeal imagination. If we look at the most celebrated designed staircases in the history of art and architecture (Images 6 through 11), we find that our most elementary spatial actions take shape with architectural forms, elements, and details, and these elements, with the qualities and potential possibilities embedded within them, can enhance or empty a person's decision-making powers and opportunities for action in space. We act not in a vacuum, but only in coordination with the opportunities
Farnsworth House, Mies van der Rohe, Illinois, 1950 - 10
Brion Cemetery, Carlo Scarpa, Italy, 1977 - 9
Wharton Esherick Studio, Pennsylvania - 8
Stairs carved from rock, Acoma Pueblo, New Mexico - 6
Infinite Stairs, Olafur Eliasson, 2004 - 11
Notre-Dame du Haut, Ronchamp, Le Corbusier, 1955 - 13
Storefront for Art and Architecture, Hinge Space, Steven Holl, New York, 1993 - 14
and possibilities that the environment provides, that we are capable of performing spatial actions. In this way, architecture can, instead of passive reaction, invite the audience or user to creative responses, and by reinforcing human agency, bring about the joy of doing and participating, and intensify one's sense of existence. On the other hand, when we speak of affordances and potential (not actual) possibilities, it means that not everything has been completely given to the audience and things have been left to them to experience with their own corporeal imagination. In Juhani Pallasmaa's words, "Architectural imagination is essentially an invitation to action. An invitation to move across a floor surface, an invitation to enter or exit through a doorway, an invitation to look out of a window, or an invitation to gather around a table.... Every meaningful building, in countless ways, reflects and adapts to the movement and ergonomic characteristics of the human body, and establishes a dialogue with the bodies of the inhabitants and their memory and mind." Examples of the recognition of perceptual affordances in architecture are not limited to the redefinition of architectural elements and one can briefly refer to other instances as well: mechanisms and moving elements in architecture (such as doors, windows, louvers, or movable walls, etc.) that provide the possibility of being engaged with and altering space, and whose movement in interaction with our hands or entire body is sometimes unpredictable at first encounter—instead of mere passivity, they give us a sense of freedom and the power to affect the environment and transform us into causal forces of spatial transformation (Images 12 through 14); multi-purpose and flexible spaces that, with their functional ambiguity, make more than one action or activity possible and provide the capacity to adapt to different human needs and decisions, granting each user autonomy of action
and freedom of will so that, instead of merely choosing among limited options, they can spontaneously and unpredictably claim the space as their own (Images 15 and 16); circulation paths in a building that, by dividing into multiple possible routes, allow us each time to gain a different experience of space by freely choosing a different path, reinforcing our capacity for adventure and wandering in space (Image 17); and sequential and experiential spaces that cannot be captured at a single glance but rather, through movement within the building and over time, and through the use of interstitial spaces, spatial layering, mysterious details, semi-transparent skins, and so on, display only a passing glimpse of the building's alluring depths, stimulating our desire for movement, exploration, and the discovery of the hidden aspects of space (Images 18 through 20). In all these examples, architecture has not lost its wondrous and astonishing aspect and is not reduced to a commodity object, for there is always something enchanting awaiting us to reveal its presence through our action and interaction. Here, the ethical-political question arises of whether architecture constrains human behavior and, in Foucault's terms, can become an instrument of repression and social control, or whether it restores this power to its users and inhabitants so that, with the affordances and the richness of desirable opportunities placed at their disposal, they can freely shape their own spatial actions. As Plummer points out, perhaps in the contemporary era one can speak of two main threats to the redefinition of architecture as the domain of human freedom: functionalism and spectacle. On the one hand, contemporary consumerist culture, based on the capitalist economy and easy mass production, and with its effort to standardize human behavior in space, has reduced architecture to
North Star School, Architma Office - 16. Carlo Scarpa, Olivetti Showroom, Venice, 1958 - 15
Peter Zumthor, Therme Vals, Switzerland, 1996 - 19
Giancarlo de Carlo, Collegio del Colle, 1966 - 17
a commodity or useful object; and on the other hand, the culture industry has turned architecture into seductive and marketable productions that, with largely technical or formal innovation, captivate us and reduce us to passive spectators of a pre-arranged visual scene. Perhaps the importance of the discussion of perceptual affordances and the corporeal meaning of architecture in the contemporary period lies in the reminder that architecture is not merely a useful or aesthetic object, but rather a domain that, in Gaston Bachelard's words, provides "the emotional bond of our bodies with the world," and by making possible human affordances and capabilities in interaction with the environment, gives meaning to our existence.
2- Redefining Fundamental Spatial Concepts in Relation to Image Schemas. One of the most complex discussions concerning human consciousness, referred to as the explanatory gap, returns to the question of how consciousness can be dependent upon an unconscious substrate, and especially a physical and neuronal substrate. In other words, the fundamental challenge is how one can bridge mental qualities and the neural circuitry of the brain. Recent research in cognitive science and neuroscience has shown that consciousness does not have a non-functional and non-corporeal nature, and that a reciprocal correlation exists between action and perception. Moreover, this neural circuitry within
the brain and the manner in which neurons are connected, and at a level above circuits, are schemas that shape the psychological characteristics, experience, and behavior of the individual. Schemas are in fact our most fundamental corporeal concepts, which are repeated in our physical experiences and in our predominantly bodily and non-reflective engagement with the environment and in our everyday actions and perceptions, providing a kind of body-based meaning structure in experience. In other words, our bodily movements and our sensory-perceptual interactions with the world include repetitive patterns without which our experience would be entirely chaotic and incomprehensible. Mark Johnson claims that these fundamental body-based schemas, with their analogical and non-propositional nature, functioning as structures of corporeal imagination, play an important role in the formation of abstract meanings and patterns of conceptual inference. In his discussion of the corporeal origin of the structures of human understanding, he has discussed at length one type of schema, namely image schemas, and its relationship to architecture. He writes in The Body in the Mind: "Each image schema is a dynamic, recurring pattern of our sensory interactions and motor programs that gives coherence and structure to our experience. For example, the verticality schema arises from our tendency to employ an up-down orientation in selecting meaningful structures of our experience. We receive this structure of verticality in thousands upon thousands of sensory perceptions and activities in our ordinary, everyday lives, of which we can cite the following examples: the sensory perception of a tree, the perception of our own standing posture, the activity of climbing stairs, the sensation of water rising, and so on. The verticality schema is an abstract structure of sensory perceptions, images, and experiences of being upright." Le Corbusier, in one of his late works titled "The Poem of the Right Angle," explicitly emphasizes the importance of the verticality schema in architecture. In the lithographs accompanying his poem, he depicts a human figure standing perpendicular to the horizon line (Image 21) and writes: "Standing on the surface of the earth / in all that is familiar / we make a pact with nature / an act of solidarity: the right angle." As if humanity, in nature, has found a way to understand space that is represented by the right angle, and knowing this is necessary as the foundation of every action. The space of human experience has its own particular spatial orientation and differs from the neutral Cartesian space of analytic geometry—with x, y, and z axes—to which we have become accustomed in today's software.
We perceive space with our bodily position and in a vertical manner, and the primary directions in our experience (up/down, front/back, left/right) are, in every culture, imbued with implicit meanings that in the final analysis are based on metaphorical notions derived from image schemas. "Our body has scale and dimensions, and with its movement in space, it polarizes external reality and becomes our instrument for meaning." Beyond human scale (Image 22), in architecture, the formation of axes of symmetry, axes of movement, and in general all methods of spatial organization are the extension and expansion of the geometry of our body and the corporeal concepts of our lived experience, rooted in spatiality (Image 23). Furthermore, insofar as we are creatures enclosed in gravity and inhabitants of the world of up and down, from our childhood experiences, without any reflective deliberation, we know that the emergence of the standing posture requires force, power, and balance. The struggle of architecture with gravity—by means of materials, geometry, and appropriate structural forms that transfer the forces of attraction to the ground—is a reflection of the equilibrium schema and the psychological need of humans for liberation from the constraints of matter and the attainment of weightlessness and flight. We experience the structural systems of architecture through unconscious corporeal imitation. Tensions, internal forces, and structural characteristics are re-enacted and felt by our muscular and skeletal system. Structures, volumes, and architectural surfaces are experienced as virtual and simulated movements in our kinetic-motor perception. In Pallasmaa's words, even in an era of the expansion of computational theories and computer modeling of structures, "the intuitive understanding of internal tensions and the anatomy of structure remains the core of innovation in engineering. The plastic and malleable expression of structural forces demands a sculptural gaze," which is clearly seen in the works of architects such as Robert Maillart, Antoni Gaudí, and Calatrava (Image 24). In this article, there is little space to address the importance of other schemas such as containment, which is closely related to the concepts of enclosure, spatial boundary, inside-outside, interstitial spaces, spatial continuity, and so on (Images 25 and 26), or the movement schema, which is related to the concepts of rhythm, circulation, spatial hierarchy, sequential space, and so on. Perhaps one can only suffice to mention that architectural concepts are not reducible to abstract ideas, mathematical algorithms, formal games,
Modular Man, Le Corbusier - 22. Le Poème de l'Angle Droit, Le Corbusier, 1947-53 - 21
House N, Sou Fujimoto, Interstitial Space - 25
Structural model, Sagrada Família, Antoni Gaudí - 24
House N interior space, Sou Fujimoto - 26
or linguistic propositions, but rather are a particular mode of thinking and corporeal and perceptual imagination that take shape based on our lived experience in interaction with the world and our unthought, pre-conceptual corporeal awareness.
3- Redefining Atmosphere in Relation to the Emotional Affordances of Architecture. In addition to perceptual affordances that stimulate an invitation to particular action, and schemas that provide a corporeal basis for architectural concepts, one can also speak of the emotional and affective affordances of architecture. Objects and spaces are not merely functional; they always affect the audience emotionally as well, and in addition to particular behaviors, they also make particular feelings more probable. Atmospheres are intermediary qualities that, without direct contact between user and object, take shape immediately and without mediation in things upon first encounter. In Tonino Griffero's terms, atmospheres are quasi-things and examples of the generally passive intermingling of subject and object that are more based on pre-analytical feelings, and from the outset and more quickly than any other reaction, they affect the emotional situation of the audience and resist any form of conscious control or cognition. Atmospheric perception is not only direct and unmediated but also corporeal, related to perceptual simulations, and accompanied by emotional engagement. A kind of unfocused peripheral vision, according to Pallasmaa, whose result is emotional presence in the world and a connection deeper than the five senses. We are not surrounded by objects empty of meaning; rather, we are surrounded by objects and quasi-objects that always carry implicit emotional meanings. In our feeling, we perceive atmospheric affordances, and this perception is always accompanied by evaluation. Moreover, as John Dewey has explained in detail, every situation we encounter is distinguished by a "pervasive unifying quality." In his view, objects and events are things whose meanings manifest in the background of the situation, or in a general spatial mood. In architecture too, forms and spaces do not merely express obvious causal relationships and pragmatic and practical affordances; they also carry emotional and affective affordances that
are responsible for our spontaneous and intuitive evaluations. "Every encounter with an architectural structure begins with a qualitative sense of our overall situation, something we feel before any attention to constituent parts, relationships, or particular qualities... Every encounter with an architectural structure begins with a response to the overall sense of place (or being in a particular world)." An atmospheric affordance is not necessarily accompanied by a behavior or action. It is true that performed corporeal actions always carry an emotional meaning, but we sometimes respond to atmospheric qualities with an aesthetic distance and without practical engagement. Numerous elements, with their qualitative presence, can intensify architectural atmospheric qualities: objects, air currents, sound or silence, light, color, temperature and air pressure, materials, people and their movements and social interactions, and so on. But atmospheric affordances are not reducible to any of these, and in connection with the range of human imagination and the capacity for poetic imagination, they find an even broader range that there is no space to discuss here (Images 27 and 28).
Architecture as Lived Experience. Perhaps these discussions about the corporeal meaning of architecture are good evidence of the inadequacy of the discussion of meaning in prevailing linguistic theories, and demonstrate the necessity of moving beyond the classical semiotics of meaning. Meaning in architecture comes into being only in lived experience and in our corporeal encounter with the physical and mental realities of the building. Architecture, without lived experience and with ideas, symbols, and abstract concepts alone, cannot be fully understood or evaluated, and only acquires meaning when it is experienced with all our senses, our corporeal awareness, and our emotions and feelings, and when it provides a domain for human actions and the events of everyday life. "The understanding of architecture begins with our everyday experiences of dwelling... and the enduring buildings in human history and memory have been inspired by human experience, are rooted in it, and are shaped on the basis of those experiences." Architecture provides a "background or framework" for our everyday life and allows us, by defining our place in the world, to actively, meaningfully, and in an emotional and affective manner, define our
existential meaning. In Dewey's words, "Architecture allows man to feel at home, because he is present in a world in whose making he himself has participated." Dewey, in the book Art as Experience, speaks at length about the historical reasons for the formation of the autonomy of art in the modern era, and about the necessity of bridging the gap between ordinary experience and aesthetic experience. In his view, the return to lived experience—which has been shaped in the process of biological evolution and organic adaptation and in interaction with the environment—is the seed of the aesthetic. For him, the work of art is generally shaped by idealizing the qualities discovered in ordinary and shared experience, and "it cultivates and highlights what is of value in a particular way in things that provide everyday pleasure or delight.... Inspiration in art is the living and animate extension of experience." On the other hand, although architectural experience becomes possible through our corporeal presence in the world, this experience is transformative and changes our existential meaning. Experience, in its essence, implies incompleteness and possibility. Giorgio Agamben, through his central idea about potentiality, capability, or possibility, has shown well that the nature of man is pure potentiality or pure possibility, and this pure experience is only fully possible in the absence of language and in infancy (which in Latin means speechlessness or being tongue-tied). The allure of works of art lies not in their complete actualization but in their pre-linguistic inner affordances and possibilities, and in remaining at the level of pure possibility. Architecture does not channel or restrict our experience; rather, it provides a vast and open range of possibilities and affordances that stimulate feelings, perceptions, actions, thoughts, and associations. Therefore, the meaning of architecture is not a particular sign or concept; rather, in Pallasmaa's words, "A meaningful building inspires us to see, feel, and think about ourselves. Great works of architecture sharpen our senses, open the way for our perceptions, and encourage us to receive the realities of the world. The true aim of architecture is not the creation of aesthetic objects or spaces, but the provision of frameworks, horizons, and domains for experiencing and understanding the world and ourselves. Architectural experience is born of our acts, actions, and activities, and gives them the possibility of growth."
theory. Laurence King, 2011. This book has been published in Persian translation by Marziyeh Azadaramaki through Elm Publications under the title "A Reflection on Architecture."
23- Form as content 24- abstract 25- logocentrism 26- logos. 27- For an introduction to the types of consciousness and the descriptive, explanatory, and functional questions of each, refer to the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, entry on consciousness, written by Robert Van Gulick, translated by Yaser Pouresmaeil, published by Qoqnoos.
Mind and Its Challenge to Western Thought. New York: Basic Books, 1999. This book has been published in Persian translation by Jahanshah Mirzabeigi through Agah Publications.
nature of language. Cambridge University Press, 1995. 34- For further acquaintance with the differing views of phenomenologists regarding language, and the contrast of their views with those of structuralists and post-structuralists, refer to the books of M.C. Dillon on the works of Merleau-Ponty, especially:
imagination, and reason. University of Chicago Press, 2013. This book has been published in Persian translation by Jahanshah Mirzabeigi through Agah Publications.
Neuroscience, Embodiment, and the Future of Design (2015): 33-50. This article has been published in the book Mind in Architecture, translated by Reza Amirrahimi, by Memar Publishing.
Wiley & Sons, 2012. This book has been published in Persian translation by Ramin Qodsi through Parham Naghsh Publications.
Drawbridge, Image Seven from the Prisons series, Giovanni Battista Piranesi - 27
The Arch with a Shell Ornament, Carceri Plate XI, Giovanni Battista Piranesi - 28
58- Explanatory gap. 59- The concept of "action-oriented perception" means that what we perceive is dependent upon what we do, and vice versa.
65- Spatiality. 66- Gaston Bachelard used the two terms "psychology of gravity" and "psychology of weightlessness" to describe this mental duality.
(1934). This book has been published in Persian translation by Masoud Olia through Qoqnoos Publications.
76- Johnson, Mark. "The Embodied Meaning of Architecture." 77- In recent decades, prominent semioticians such as Eric Landowski, by addressing subjects such as the body, perception, the sensory, and presence, have emphasized the necessity of moving beyond classical semiotics and structuralist thinking. For further study, refer to the book Meaning as Lived Experience by Morteza Babak Moein, published by Sokhan Publications.