Ala Abuhasan
In the last couple of years, we have been introduced to “interactive architecture” as architecture that moves, changes and is perhaps affected by its users. However, interactive architecture is not strictly kinetic or physically moving; rather, it is architecture that suggests events and influences the behaviour of its occupants. During an interview about the topic, Brian Massumi states that “what is central to interactive art is not so much the aesthetic form in which a work presents itself to an audience … but the behaviour the work triggers in the viewer.”
A good example of this is the Teshima Art Museum by Ryue Nishizawa. The museum has very minimal character. It is made of a single concrete shell with two elliptical openings connecting the interior space to the surrounding environment. In 2010 the museum was home to Matrix, an installation by Rei Naito. The installation constitutes of water droplets entering the space through the elliptical openings and landing on the concrete floor. Once inside, the droplets move on the floor’s gently sloped surface and gather in small puddles. The installation is not static; it changes daily as the wind moves the droplets from one place to another.
We enter the space barefoot, in silence. The space of the museum is empty except for the small water droplets. The rhythms of natural light flooding the interior and wind moving the small water puddles intensify our sensory functions and make us more attentive. The space invites us to listen, slow down, pause and reflect. It demands our physical and emotional engagement. The integration of architecture, art and surrounding nature creates an immersive environment. This is interactive architecture: it has the power to affect us, to make us feel, to “trigger our behaviour.”
Interactive architecture is like abstract art—its materials exceed their materiality and become a form of pure expression. An abstract painting, for instance, is not the sum of the materials it’s made of—paint on a canvas—it is the movement, the emotion it evokes and the behaviour that results.
We spend our lives inhabiting spaces that are designed. As architects, considering the fully lived experience—rather than strictly focusing on the predefined function or materiality of the space—will allow users to resonate with, to feel, to experience and to remember not only the spaces we create, but their experiences within them. After all, the two are inseparable.
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