HEJDUK’S CHRONOTOPE (an introduction)
K. Michael Hays
“It seemed a curious mixture that simply made do with time, weather, and those peoples.”1
    What explains the contradiction that the body of work many contemporary architectural theorists find most illustrative of concepts they would promote — narrative and representation after formalism, minor practice, nomadology, the carnivalcsque, the swerve, or détournement (the list goes on) — has as its author an architect who regards contemporary theory with contempt, when he regards it at all ? What warrants a collection of ruminations on a theoretical practice whose focus is an architecture neither theoretical nor practical in any conventional sense of the terms ?
    If architectural theory and practice are, in principle, continuous, the actual prevailing situation in academic institutions and professional offices is that they have tended toward a high degree of specialization and a very precise division of intellectual labor, giving rise to a cult of expertise — theorists versus designers — whose effect on the discipline as a whole is pernicious. Of the major modes of knowledge acquisition and dissemination, it has been architectural theory, almost alone among the disciplinary discourses, that has made it part of its vocation to detect and dismantle these established institutional specializations and separate forms of practice and thematize its own situation in relation to other discursive systems. As a result of this shift away from the traditional intellectual foundations and compartments, a host of new critical perspectives on architectural practice has suffused and enlivened the discipline with a vigor and probity rivaling that of any other time. Yet, for all its strength and the significance of its efforts, critical theory has been remiss insofar as it has lost contact with and thus abdicated a direct and formative relationship with the professional practice of architectural design. In its efforts to be critical, it has failed to be propositional.
    When, late in 1990, Jeffrey Kipnis and I proposed a working session and debate involving a handful of architectural theorists in an effort to focus what we all believed were increasingly divergent theoretical trajectories being spun off at ever greater distances from the practical concerns of professional designers, Phyllis Lambert and the Canadian Centre for Architecture responded with enthusiasm and generous support for a conference. And we had no trouble agreeing that our first test case of theoretical practices meeting a theoretical practice should be John Hejduk. Hejduk’s pedagogy, his personal convictions, as well as his multimodal architectural production, all seem to be founded on a sympathetic, if not entirely similar, refusal of disciplinary boundaries and unchanging definitions. What is more, prepoststructuralist theory (if one allows that formulation had not been able, it seemed to us, to theorize Hejduk’s work at all, let alone its possible implications for a generalizable architectural practice., Architectural theory in its more recent iterations, we thought, should set for itself just that goal.
    The fact is that Hejduk’s recent work developed handinhand with the reformation of architectural theory itself in what might properly be called the linguistic research of the neoavantgarde in the 1970s : the attempt not only to codify architecture as a language but, further, to collapse the distinction between the object of architecture and the theoretical text. First, the identification of what counted as the architectural object was shifted away from a single, purely phenomenological mode of perception toward multiple and differentiated « textual » structures, resonances, and plays of signification — this had begun as early as Hejduk’s Texas Houses and their « textualization » of the work of Mies van der Robe and Le Corbusier. Simultaneously, as the newly constructed object-text’s internal powers of meaning construction and its intertextual plays were stressed, Hejduk’s written text (expositions, interviews, poems, fictions) — formerly an appurtenance to the autonomous architectural object — ceased to he merely a set of project descriptions and took on the status of an equally important, interwoven object-text, a combination of a wide range of signs and codes. This is Stan Allen on the emergence of Hejduk’s intertexts : “These distinct practices improperly occupy the same ground. A complex spatiality results : a textual architecture that is the exact counterpart to the compositional tactics of Hejduk’s projects.” And Robert Somol observes that, as a result of this cohesive and intensive intertextuality, “it is difficult to tell what does not count in the work of John Hejduk, to distinguish the central focus from the peripheral, the totality from the vignette.” Writers of architectural « theory » dedicated to a reformation of design « practice » would naturally be drawn to the work of an architect who has fruitfully ignored those very distinctions.
    Jeffrey Kipnis solicited the contributions presented at the Hejduk colloquium held at the Canadian Centre for Architecture in Montreal, from the authors whose essays now appear in this volume. The essays have all been reworked after the discussions that ensued in Montreal but maintain, t hope, the speculative, probing tone of that event. For my part, in this introduction (which is also something like an afterword) I draw from those discussions and add some of my own reflections on the theoretical practice of John Hejduk. Here I rehearse a few aspects of his architecture conceded to be its constitutive features even if the writers disagree about the interpretation of these features. These aspects stretch from a stylistic preference for basic, geometrically and tectonically controlled forms and elemental biomorphism (hair, beaks, eyes, legs) to typological variations on theaters, periscopes, caissons, funnels, traps, and labyrinths ; allegorically they include angels, animals, and machines as well as a set of reduced human characters (The Identity Card Man, The Mask Taker, The Lottery Woman, et al.) ; narratively, they employ traditions of folklore, carnivals, and masquerades in alternately melancholic and ecstatic moods; thematically they conjoin routinized craft and trade, falls from grace, and struggles of life and death.
    The concept of chronotope, from Mikhail Bakhtin, provides a useful tool for synthesizing a number of these features into effective patterns if not a generalizable proposition. Chronotope is the coordination of a system of time and space, a form-giving ideology. Bakhtin uses the term to name the set of distinctive temporal and spatial features within a work, the phenomenal « feel » of the world produced by the work, which is, it should be emphasized, quite different from the world in which the work is produced. In the chronotope, “time, as it were, thickens, takes on flesh, becomes artistically visible; likewise, space becomes charged and responsive to the movements of time, plot, and history. The intersection of axes and fusion of indicators characterizes the artistic chronotope.”3 The chronotope determines, if it does not displace, the more familiar notion of genre, thereby relieving us of deciding whether Hejduk’s work is generic or aberrant, since even aberrant works produce a distinctive chronotope. And the chronotope gives us a framework to ponder certain questions that Hejduk’s work, perhaps like no other architecture, seems to insist upon : What is the relation of subjective action to its objective context ? Does the context construct events or is it mere background ? Are subjects replaceable, exchangeable, or are they fixed ? Is it possible for events to be repeated or reversed ? Is time open to multiple interpretations or is it scripted in advance ? Is there a concept of public time and space, or of the collective as opposed to the private narrative ? Indeed, are Hejduk’s troupes and carnivals so out of time and place, « anachronic » and « anatopic », that they overspin what may count for a proper and plausible yarn ?
    As has already been anticipated by the abovementioned intertextuality of his practice, in Hejduk’s chronotope some longstanding conceptual distinctions are dissolved into new matrices of association. Amidst us in the world we too easily take to be « real » are forces that distort the authentic nature of things, blasting things into false components, holding each separate, not allowing them to touch, obstructing the smooth affiliations they should rightly maintain. The conceptual distinction between formal abstraction and figuration is one result of such distorting forcesthe false notion that there can be one set of forms that do not represent anything, that are opaque to any meaning other than selfreflexivity, and another set of forms that represent something outside themselves, that are transparent to a reality, but only insofar as they mimic what already exists. In his contribution, Detlef Mertins sketches a genealogy of that opposition - from the displacement of conventional rhetorical signs by « natural », physiognomic expressions in Claude-Nicolas Ledoux’s architecture parlante, to the experience of the homogeneous fabric of « building » in Walter Gropius’s naturalization of function, to the search for a universal grammar of form in the human body’s empathetic responses — and situates in that modernist lineage Hejduk’s taking up the husks of such thought. But Hejduk twists these « shells of thought » into new shapes in order to liberate his own objects from the strictures of such categorization, in order (this is Bakhtin now), to “permit them to enter into the free unions that are organic to them, no matter how monstrous these unions might seem from the point of view of ordinary, traditional associations.”4
    Monstrous. It’s a word frequently heard in discussions of Hejduk’s work. Here it means the refusal of the categorizations, « abstract or figurative », « opaque or transparent »; it means the reinscription of modernist opacity back into representation itself; it means the mask that figures a real that did not exist before its representation. Take, for example, the Crossover Bridge of the Berlin Masque series. It is a primary figure, an archetype : a bridge. Every formal decision can be explained in terms of function — a lighted passage to get across the street — or as a constructive elementalism — a geometry of tectonic components, instrumental and unambiguous in its determination. Yet it is so clearly an animal, though not one we have ever seen — green and spiky, so obviously unfettered by instrumental demands as it grazes unawares at the edges of the Wilhelmstrasse. Old distinctions are of no use here. Hejduk refuses the verticality of thought that separates abstraction and representation, the functional and the fantastic, buildings and animals, into different registers. Hejduk’s chronotope is horizontal and associative. In it « abstraction » (though it is wrong to continue to call it that) has a figurative vocation, and function consorts with dragons.
    Monstrous. Angels are monsters of a sort, I suppose. Ed Mitchell sees them as characteristic inhabitants of Vladivostok’s chronotope, positioned at the threshold, fumbling over their fabulously unbounded bodies to announce that something is about to happen, that a new world can be made, but not yet — we have to wait because we have not yet finished destroying the old world. We have to first chop up the old world into squares and triangles and circles and put them back as hair and beaks and funnels and hooded eyes because these last are more promiscuous as visual elements, more likely to aggregate into unpredictable constellations, to sponsor unprecedented uses.5
    And the very theatricality of these elements must be emphasized, for as Robert Somol reminds us, it is the theatricality and aleatory nature of this propped-up architecture that bleed off the autonomy and heroic monumentality of form. Hejduk’s chronotope contains no conventional monumentality, for it lacks the stability, permanence, and memory necessary for monuments. Think, by way of contrast, of the analogous city of Aldo Rossi, sedimented out of centuries of Western culture, in which architecture is just the materialization of that cultural memory. The air in Vladivostok is much thinner; the weather of Vladivostok is a vaporous, angelic timespace, “the space created at the moment of the event.” Anachronic, anatopic. Vladivostok, Riga, Berlin, Lancaster, all have undergone a kind of dépaysement, or in the parlance favored by the contributors here, a « deterritorialization », not unlike that of Kafka’s Amerika.
    Some of the participants in the colloquium believed a « political problem » arose in Hejduk’s preference for wrestling with angels rather than with solutions to real urban conditions. But Jeffrey Kipnis reminded the colloquium that the political problem may be caused rather by the fact that we insist on positing « solutions » at all, by the modernist-functionalist arrogance that allows us to think that solutions are, in fact, possible when dealing with the problems of the real city. Under the skies of Lake Baikal, angels rehearse the states of becoming something else while some of us on the ground perhaps worry overmuch to solve what we already are. Architecture at its best has always been a practice of dissatisfaction with the way things are. Architecture has always made blue-prints for something else.
    Hejduk’s refusal to settle (to posit a solution, to colonize a place, to arrive at an answer, to quiet our nerves) is perhaps a plea for more time to practice. But not every participant in the Hejduk colloquium accepted this refusal with the same hope. The untimely death of Robin Evans made it impossible to include his intervention here. I recall, however, that he, perhaps more than the other contributors, foregrounded what he understood as the sheer negativity of Hejduk’s work, what Hejduk himself called an « architecture of pessimism », Hejduk’s giving us the bad news that the modern condition is sad and lonely. But, according to Evans, we must also recognize that Hejduk’s work is deeply implicated in the construction of the very negativity it seeks to describe. Evans : “Hejduk’s masques are imaginary situations that exaggerate what is anyway the case. In this respect they could be described as accurate caricatures. Because he still adopts architectural means — because he invokes program, character, type, and so forth — his work may be used to suggest that these same architectural means were instrumental in the construction of the emptiness they testify to. His testimony is vindicated. St. Jerome was reputed to have picked up a fledgling sparrow pulling out its feathers one by one to emphasize some theological point. What was left was indeed pitiful.”
    Hejduk’s pessimism is a component of his critical task — to destroy the false picture of a world already finished, whose features are already decided before the architect arrives on the scene, to purge architecture of decades of accumulated biases and partitions. It is perhaps this side of his task that is easier to grasp with interpretive methods given to us by the historical avantgarde, which similarly sought to destroy the aesthetic conventions of bourgeois continuity, putting in their place either the sheer heterogeneity of deinstitutionalized urban life (as in certain forms of expressionism and dada) or the overarching autonomy of formal or technological modernization and its desubjectifying effects (as is found, in different ways, in architects as diverse as Nikolai Ladovsky, Giuseppe Terragni, Mies van der Rohe, and Ludwig Hilberseimer). A fundamental question about Hejduk’s work regards the affirmative side of his endeavor : the possible fusion of polemical and constructive tasks, of purging and restoring a world ; the recognition that architecture must somehow scandalously exceed what it is given to work with, must convert its raw material into proposition as well as critique.
    Architecture’s more affirmative vocation was theorized in the linguistic discourse of the 1970s and early 1980s as a liberal reconciliation of heterogeneity and autonomy or of fragmented, individual forms and events against a coordinating, grammatical ground, which in its canonical form, Colin Rowe’s collage city, manifested itself both physically and conceptually in a planimetric grid. In his essay Robert Somol argues that Hejduk, in prosecuting the positive side of his task, turns this logic ninety degrees, as it were - from the figure-ground, plan gestalt of architectural collage to “the elevational pair subject-object” and from langue to parole, grammar to performance, grid to holey surface. What is initiated thereby is not only a return to the positive narrative potentials of architecture after the structuralistformalist prohibition but also the proposition of a radical figurality — a figurality without a ground — and a chronotope in which inhabitants are deterritorialixed into their vocations (Somol uses the Deleuzean description of nomadic societies in which human organization is fundamentally numerical), buildings likewise are exchangeable pieces of movable mechanical equipment, and the city itself becomes a smooth space of directional traces (both registering past events and projecting possible future ones) rather than a mensurable, regulating grid.
    This « elevational » chronotope must constantly produce itself, continually exchanging contexts, programs, subjects, and objects. It is a smooth screen of continuous narrative projection, which means that Hejduk’s refusal to posit solutions is integral to the conception of timespace produced by his work. And it is important to note that this smooth space includes not only new forms of presentation of architectural concepts (through painting, scriptwriting, cryptography, cataloguing, etc.), but also new forms of distribution in commercially massproduced books (Mask of Medusa, Vladivostok, Victims, Lancaster /Hanover Masque, which invariably are assigned the status of « a work »), thus polemically, promiscuously affiliating the conventional spaces of architectural production, architectural publication, and commodity.
    This notion of an elevational space that enables figurality without ground seems right : it follows well enough from the research of the Wall Houses, which are themselves tilted up versions of the Diamond Houses with pieces of the ground still intact ; it is a consistent filling out of the semiotics of the neoavantgarde (with, perhaps, Peter Eisenman, Rem Koolhaas, and Daniel Libeskind occupying other positions in Somol’s “not-urbanism / not-sculpture” matrix). It is in the same dissociation from Rowe and the politicoarchitectural model of one-ground / many-figures that Somol finds the possibility of a « minor urbanism ». For if Hejduk’s can be construed as a chronotope where the reconciliation of the many within the one is dissolved into a state of the-many-becoming-one, then the promise of his excessive, positively promiscuous affiliations can be extended to the city itself.
    Stan Allen, however, warns against the overly enthusiastic attribution of « minor » to Hejduk’s work, pointing out that Hejduk’s practice still comprises, along with angels, insects, and other fauna, the familiar and not completely deterritorialized forms and procedures of modernism’s masters and that his authorial space is still populated by a progeny who, like Louis Althusser’s subjects who work by themselves, are most dedicated to carrying on the master project when the master is seemingly not there. The old dogs of modernism and the inescapable influence of Hejduk as a teacher ballast the airy flights his work simultaneously enables. Similarly, Peggy Deamer argues that this “absent” author who nevertheless oversees diegetic development is a structural condition of autobiography and, indeed, that Hejduk’s « heroes », his biographied building-machines, are reflections of himself. Deamer : “The objectification of the self, the urge to thwart morality by solidifying the life into an object, is a fact of both psychosis and autobiography. In the cross-fertilization between the inner and outer worlds, each acts as a representation to the other…[Hejduk’s heroes] reenact, by the consistent crossreferencing of the inhabitant /subject with the building/object, the process of self-objectification at play in the autobiographical process in general.”
    I want to return to this particular reading of the “the elevational pair subject-object” as a mirror apparatus but, first, we must mark the moment when the infinite semiosis that Hejduk’s work seems to hold out as a kind of tease to post structuralist theory is, necessarily, arrested. For it is neither so simple as the fact that every sign refers to another sign ad infinitum — or, in other words, that in Hejduk’s chronotope a much more fluid signifying practice (or signifiance or signification inprocess) replaces the comparatively stable signifier / signified unit of an older architectural semiotics — nor that nomadic subjects, no longer fixed by the sedentary boundaries of individuality, replace the old certainty of the self. Nor even is it that signifying chains (which could be another term for Hejduk’s masques) interact with other signifying chains, that his architecture is not bound by time or place.
    And so, if I may continue a moment longer to pursue the ramifications of matching a certain description of Hejduk’s work with a reading of Gilles Deleuze (which at least four of the authors here did and which is not incongruous insofar as both projects, Hejduk’s and Deleuze’s, are radical rercadings of the machineries of modernism), then we will recall that, in order to overcome the entropy inherent in such an endlessly circulating system as Hejduk’s, with all its redundancy and excess, another interpretive mechanism is necessary, a way of « reterritorializing » the signifying regime. Deleuze and Félix Guattari call one such mechanism faciality and it may turn out that this concept, too, has something to offer as a theoretical solution to some of the problems posed by Hejduk’s mask/masque structure. Deleuze and Guattari : “The face crystallizes all redundancies, it emits and receives, releases and recaptures signifying signs. It is a whole body unto itself : it is like the body of the center of signifiancc to which all of the dcterritorialszed signs affix themselves, and it marks the limit of their deterritorialization....The face is what gives the signifier substance....The mask does not hide the face, it is the face.”6
    The faciality of Hejduk’s architecture must not be identified with the fact that his buildings literally resemble faces, though they sometimes do and this is not totally unrelated. As I am suggesting we use it here, faciality has more to do with what Catherine Ingraham calls Hejduk’s “errand into the wilderness” : the felt loss of architecture’s original, divine mission of founding a promised land — a church on solid ground — and the necessary covering over of the site of that loss with architecture itself. On this reading, the « face » is “the mark of Hejduk’s doubt” (Allen), his “nature theater” (Mitchell), his “wilderness urbanism” (Ingraham). The face is, ultimately, stigmata. For Deleuze and Guattari use faciality to coordinate an entire regime of loss and desired redemption (they put the face of Christ in the center of that regime) and the visible marks of that pathos. Faciality understood in this way resonates with Hejduk’s attempt to put the best face on our condition of dislocation and lossa face, produced by the very threat of loss, that helps us for a moment to forget. And, of course, it resonates with what I earlier called his radical figurality, whose motifs range from overt anthropomorphism to the consistent centering devices (the axes of the Ferris wheels, pinwheels, and stars, the centers of the single cells, the crossings) and the desperate symmetries of doubling and mirroring.7
    The correlate of the mask is the masque (rituals and carnivals); the correlate of the face is the landscape.8 The building interprets and transforms the landscape (or townscape, including its ceremonies), which in Hejduk’s work must be understood not so much as a surround or a context for the buildings as the matrix out of which they emerge and which they, in turn, create. This is why it seems correct in Hejduk’s work to speak of the face of the town — the face of the Victims, the face of Vladivostok. These sites are the necessary milieu for characters who have withdrawn from the outside world; they had to be produced once Hejduk put architecture “to flight” (Allen, Somol) or detoured from his “theological” mission (Ingraham). And the characteristic ambiguity of these sites’ identities is just the nature of faciality.
    Faciality is the production of a specific, though provisional, authorization and regulation of visual images out of a proliferation of signification (and Hejduk’s objects, as we know, do spin off signs) and subjectification (and Hejduk’s subjects, as we know, are constructed and chosen). Faciality limits the polyvocality of signs and subjects even if it draws on and retains some of their excessive potential. Which is to say, faciality replaces the older function of mythologies.9 Of course, for some of us, the face in this sense is a redundancy: what we used to call the culture industry (including its academic branch) with its star system, its identifiable faces, its passing off the arbitrary as natural, performs this same function of making the defamiliarized seem familiar and the familiar seem new. Which is just to say, in turn, that faciality is bound up in the very particular social formation of modern capitalism and its attendant institutions.
    If faciality arises in a specific social formation, the semiotic of the culture industry, it also has a specific determinate : authorial power. Though Hejduk’s authorship is a complex affair, as Deamer demonstrates, like any authorship it rests on a certain authority; and though authorship may engender polyvocalityand there is ample evidence that Hejduk’s doesit must also contain it. Faciality is that necessary containment; it can be found in the famous interviews with Alex Wall, in the halls of The Cooper Union, even in the publication of this book. “The face is a politics.”10
    But the thematic of individuality and loss are most apparent in the quite literal faces of Hejduk’s buildings and the particular apparatus of that thematic emerges if we cross Somol’s “elevational pair subjectobject” with Deamer’s autobiographical structure. For if selfreflections they are (as Deamer sees them), Hejduk’s objects nevertheless ask the viewer, too, to work through a kind of architectural mirror stage — the moment of recognition that our very identity is based on loss. The viewer encounters an architecture overtly anthropomorphic but not quite human. We see not so much a reflection of ourselves as a shadow or a distortion, an image that disturbs our narcissistic gaze through what might be called an « inmixing of otherness », presenting itself as other to our body and our subjectivity. The differential play between subject and object that takes place along the axis of viewer and representation in the mirror metaphor now finds its analog in the object itself. The subject having been split from its object by the external forces of social and symbolic reification, the object must now be reconstructed by Hejduk in such a way as to bear the place of the subject within itself. Like the animals in a fable who speak with human voices, Hejduk’s objects are the obverse of classical humanist representations — that is, they do not render to us our narcissistic object of desire so directly. But they nonetheless restore the face to the viewer as well as their author, in objects that can be seen as parables of a privileged, because private, psychological moment.
    The unanswered question of this collection of essays, it seems to me, revolves around the issue of privacy, even of private property, which operates at each of the structural levels Deamer articulates: the biographical author, the narrator, the hero, and the reader / viewer. Is Hejduk’s chronotope so encased in and protected by privacy — the solitude of author, hero, and reader - that it can never be made publicly effective ?11 The biographies of Hejduk’s vagabonds serve to externalize them, to free them from the conditions normally imposed by class, profession, education, and environment, as well as from some internal essence.12 His subjects-objects represent the right to be more than their assigned roles, “the right to be other in this world, the right not to make common cause with any single one of the existing categories that life makes available.”13 They hold out the promise that they can change their vocation, put on a different mask. Yet at the same time, they seem strangely remote, protected, and therefore limited by their creator after all, which in turn makes their world smaller for the readen If (and only if) Hejduk’s vagabonds and their readers could be constructed not as the progression of each toward some ultimate individual life sealed-off unto itself, but rather as a “becoming other” in the social and historical world, as a phenomenon of social and historical life, then, I believe, theory will have done its job to show how architecture can tell a story of difference — which in Hejduk’s case may not be so much untold as rather unheard, ignored, or unreceivable in dominant disciplinary terms — how architecture can configure a world better than the one we have.
1 ray bradbury, The Machineries of Joy (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1964), 53; cited in gilles deleuze - félix guattari, A Thousand Plateaus (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987), 262.
2 Not that there is a dearth of writing on Hejduk, some of it good, even, though most of it, as Peggy Deamer put it, tends to “supplement the poetics with more of the same.” hélène lipstadt, in an unpublished review of the Hejduk colloquium, reports that “a recent sampling of the published writing on Hejduk, drawn from the Avery Periodical Index since 1978, confirms that press coverage has been frequent - fifty-six articles in all - and consistently laudatory.” hélène lipstadt, “Insiders’ John Hejduk”, MS 1992.
3 m. m. bakhtin, “Forms of Time and of the Chronotope in the Novel”, in michael holquist, ed., The Dialogic Imagination, caryl emerson - michael holquist, trans. (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981), 84. Bakhtin is also the theorist of “the carnivalesque” - the liberating suspension or reversal of dominant hierarchies of time and space - which can be thought as an extreme form of chronotope: while chronotopes measure patterns and norms of a constructed world, carnival mocks all possible norms, suspends all definitions, and reappropriates patterns into different forms. As we will see, Hejduk’s work may well be a candidate for an architectural carnivalesque.
Val Warke is the only architectural theorist I know who has used Bakhtin as a resource.
4 Ibid., 169.
5 Part of what is meant by “promiscuous affiliations,” a locution that arose often in the Hejduk colloquium, is simply that Hejduk’s forms create categories that can then be filled by other items. For example, when you see a concrete column with reinforcing rods coming out of its top and think of an angel, or when you find that you notice water towers more than you used to, it’s probably because of Hejduk’s categoryconstitutive architecture.
6 gilles deleuze - félix guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, op. cit., 115. But see, mainly, the chapter, “Year Zero: Faciality,” 167 ff.
7 To me the symmetries are one of the most provocative devices of Hejduk’s formal system. I account for them by imagining what compositional device might remain when all of composition has been discredited: when there is nothing left to do, just repeat it, fold it over. Hejduk’s symmetries are desperate in that way.
8 “Architecture positions its ensembles - houses, towns or cities, monuments or factories - to function like faces in the landscape they transform.” gilles deleuze - félix guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, op. cit., 572.
9 I am thinking of “mythologies” in the sense of the term’s use in roland barthes, “Myth Today”, in Mythologies, annette layers, trans. (New York: Hill and Wang, 1972), 109-159. Barthes sees myth as not only limiting polyvocality (Bakhtin’s word) but as surreptitiously sneaking back in messages of the dominant ideology.
10 gilles deleuze - félix guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, op. cit., 181.
11 I trust the reader will not forget (after all this Deleuzian terminology) that in Marxian thought (which I still intend to keep at least a foot in), privacy and the accumulation of private “stuff” is just a bourgeois attempt to shore up a self that is inevitably “deterritorialized” by material life. The thematic of individuality and loss, then, is integral to the question of disembodied privacy versus concrete social life.
12 anthony vidler first referred to Hejduk’s as a “vagabond architecture” in The Architectural Uncanny (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1992), 207 ff.
13 m. m. bakhtin, “Forms of Time”, op. cit., 159.
Hélène Binet, photographer, "Tegel Housing, Berlin," 1988.
    Collection of the Architect. Photo credit : Hélène Binet. © Héléne Binet.