El campo expandido (del arte) en el espacio reducido (durante confinamiento).
campo expandido/espacio reducido
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El campo expandido (del arte) en el espacio reducido (durante confinamiento).
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*Zona Entre*
Paradox is at the heart of the relationship between architecture and citizenship. For every act of fortified inclusion and exclusion, there is a counter, perhaps informal or subversive, act that strives to undermine distinctions. Border walls are the default architectures that describe nationhood, but also just one of many architectural expressions of citizenship. Citizenship has never been constituted as a singular, monumental edifice, reducible to any one institution of power or construction of identity. As a cluster of rights, responsibilities, and attachments, the lived experience of citizenship speaks to the plural, complex, and intimate relations we have with the actual and virtual spaces we inhabit. If citizenship itself designates both a border and the networks that traverse and ultimately elude them, then what kind of architecture might be offered offer in lieu of «The Wall»? What designed objects, buildings, or spaces might speak to the heart of what and how it means to belong today?
(https://www.e-flux.com/architecture/dimensions-of-citizenship/)
We will never again shout, sneeze, or cough unmasked without provoking anger and fear. We will never again hug each other without the thrill of shared danger. We will never again approach a street corner without awaiting potential murder. Even when the Sars-CoV-2 pandemic is over, we will never forget that breath and touch can turn into lethal weapons—at least for the sick and the elderly. To overcome that feeling we will avoid them altogether.
Or will we? The AIDS crisis in the 1980s tells quite the opposite. Many continued to have unsafe sex even though an HIV infection was expected to be fatal. It often didn’t even feel like playing with fire. It was just a bit more pleasurable, a bit more intimate. HIV also didn’t increase the discrimination of gay, bisexual, or highly promiscuous people. If anything, HIV made them more visible and normal.
Then again, different from Sars-CoV-2, it is completely safe to interact with people who are HIV positive in all ways except for “unsafe” sex. And even now that there is a reliable treatment to prevent AIDS, sex rates are steadily going down all over the world. People are hooking up more casually and are more reserved about sex. Sex is gradually losing importance. Obvious reasons could be improving masturbation devices, free porn, virtual sex, less urge to reproduce, less urge for a steady partner, and an increasing amount of alternate joys and distractions.
These reasons could also make us avoid physical closeness altogether. The Sars-CoV-2 pandemic could work as an exercise in social distancing that will prevail when the danger vanishes. Did most of us comply rather easily to self-isolation because—wittingly or unwittingly—we had been waiting for this opportunity? Different from our sex rate, our spatial proximity rate has never been researched comprehensively.
While we continued to congest further and further in streets, public transport, planes, or beaches, it was nothing that we thrived for. While we still frequented stadiums and clubs, sitting and VIP areas were growing. Public spaces were privatized to guarantee some exclusivity. Major political debates shifted from the question of proper distribution to the question of proper distance: from neo-nationalism, neo-protectionism, and mass incarceration to environmental protection and safe spaces.
(https://www.e-flux.com/architecture/housing/333703/automatic-privacy/)