NOTE TO USERS

The original manuscript received by UMI contains pages with indistinct print. Pages were microfilmed as received.

This reproduction is the best copy available

An Architecture of Souk Modernlty, Daniel Libeskind and the Spiritual

by Joel David Robiwon

Graduate Program in the visual Arts

Submitted in partial fulflllment of the requirements for the degree of Mastet of Arts

Faculty of Graduate Studies The Unhrersity of Western Ontario London, Ontario December 1997

O JoelDavid Robinson 1997 National Library Bibliothèque nationale du Canada

Acquisitions and Acquisitions et Bibliographie Services senrices bibliographiques 395 Wellington Street 395. rue Wellington OüawaON K1A W ûttawaON K1AON4 Canada canada

The author has granted a non- L'auteur a accordé une licence non exclusive licence allowing the exclusive permettant à la National Library of Canada to Bibliothèque nationale du Canada de reproduce, loan, distrihte or sell reproduire, prêter, distribuer ou copies of this thesis in microform, vendre des copies de cette thèse sous paper or electronic formats. la forme de microfichelfilm, de reproduction sur papier ou sur format électronique.

The author retains ownership of the L'auteur conserve la propriété du copyright in ths thesis. Neither the droit d'auteur qui protège cette thèse. thesis nor substantial extracts fkom it Ni la thèse ni des extraits substantiels may be printed or otherwise de celle-ci ne doivent être imprimés reproduced without the author's ou autrement reproduits sans son permission. autorisation. Abstract

Architecture has often rnirrored a mode1 of the cosmos (what Phto calls the world-soul) wberein the laws of harmony and proportion are centrai to the creation of aii being. When manifest in architecture, such laws are the means through which we may embody the historical spirit, attain an image of beauty and experience an affect of the souî wherein we recognize our communal humÂnity. in an epoch marked by the end of modemity and the dissolution of those sublime fictions of the cosmos, history and man, some architecn have challengeci this intellectual tradition so to re-awaken reflection on our aesthetic experience with respect to space, time and the universe - that is, ow historical reallty. With attention to Daniel Libeskind's Jewish Mension to the Berlin Museum, among other projects, I will question whether the architecture of our epoch can reinvent the spirituai. rebuild the soul and strike chords in us yet again.

Keywords: architecture, BerUn, cosmology, deconstruction, history, Libeskind. modernity, sod, splriniallty. Reckiess! wanüng CO see the soul Face to face You go dom in flames. For this study, 1 remain forever indebted to al1 the individuals at the University of Western Ontario frm whom I teceived inspiration, guidance and critical advice dong the way. However, here 1 can onîy mention those who had a direct impact on the wolution and maturation of this project. First. 1 would iike to thaalr my advisor Professor Mark A Cheecham for his pointed criticism of the manuscript in its confused and fragmentary States of becoming. It was his encouragement and patience which ailowed me to experiment with inter-discipliaary content, unorthodox theoretical paradi- and alternative forms of writing appropriate to the new art history of which he is an intelligent advocate Here. 1 would also üke to express my gradhde to Professor Glenn Peers for lcindly agreeing to take on the responsibility of second reader. His comments on the rough draft of the thesis proved very helpful. 1 would also We to express my warm thadcs to those that have had an enduring impact on my academic stuciles at the UIlfversity. Professor Bridget Ellion deserves fint mention here. for I have known her the longest. 1 wuid iike to thank her for having inspired me in almost evqrthhg 1 have done in the direction of becoming a student of art history. Despite aii her genuine encouragement, she has also been my most adversarial critic, and for that reason a most worthy teacher. Professor Kathryn Brush also deserves my Wnd gratitude here. for she has hvested an upUftlng fait. in my work from the beginning. If I had not studied under her in a seminar on methodological perspectives in medieval art, the necessary historical ground for my thesis might nwer have ken furnished. Professor John Hatch has also been an Lnsightful source and informative cornpanion throughout the course of this research, Hts enthusiasn over art that acknowieâges the world of Einstein and Heisenberg has obliged me to seek out what 1 would CUserious art and xorn some of the more fashionable impulses in contemporary art history. For my referaces to Sir Arthur Wdington and modem physics, 1 remain indebted to him. I am also fortunate to have had the opportunity to participate in seminars led by Professors Patrick Mahon and David Clark, two instnictors of visual art at the university. In their semlnars, 1 was at liberty to develop a more experimental strategy of research, the ramifications of which can be discerneci in the following essay. FinaUy, for permission to include figure illustrations in this thesis, aedit must be granted to Studio Ubeskind, EL Croquis pubiishers and Academy Editions/St. Martin's Press. Table of Contents

Page

Certifica te of Examination i i A bstrac t iii Epigraph iv Acknowledgements v Table of Contents vii List of Figures ix List of Appendices xi Preface xii introduction I 1. Tne City as a Star of Redemption Is refracted and congeais into a uboogie-~g.ie* iike constella cion* 7 2. Skin, cowi of the sod, hides a deaf monk sucking opinions ... 12 3. lrrationaî number Harhiog its indivisible quotient in the black water of Beghdng 16 4. The Lriveutury of conflict confIrms the ghost, casts each soul in a minor key - sixth on the diatonic 21 5. Ttie wlnds are dzy and melanchofy Ms the void of anatomy n 6. Primordial whorls smunding the btain. .. stimularing the ear of remDionysus 32 7. On the equator a shattered camera begins to melt 35 8. Poor Pascai witb bis cafcdator playing a duge for inflnlte space 40

9. 1 am prairaisingtbe dty by s-g six phantoms on snows of evident docuiry 34 10. FiaaUy the water irself can be adbered to the mind, pmvided that one does not &y on the glue 49 11. Mut solitude, in m,beW lts ihk to every pirouetdng sbard of che erirploded amphora? 53 12. Tbdorie a building is not just a rieutrai shape, but a gift or rem to histofy 57 13. The theory is this: to contain the Universe in a last inAnitesimal sound charge by capping che West 14th a non-reversible gadcet 59 14. The Graphk as the souf of Architecture 62 15. ... insane, three dimasional star conffguradons organfied amund an invisible axis cdîed scfeme or epiEiph

16 But ?O awaken a race of star bu& in hahunk crysrals: dim your eye's labyrinthine cavlty 17. ... telegrams from Mos~s-.., messages whfch induce a reduse wirheRng Ln the pusisating âawn ?O inhaîe througb his own mouth 18. It Is an attempt m NI up the soul Mta memory so that one wvuld fInally oboterate it all togetber

19. Whea the once potent &ut& of arrhitechve is reduceû ro a sigm of Its absence one experlemes a pamhhg, suffbsariag mess: 'The psycbe lusts ro be wet..' Conclusion Appendices Notes Figures Bibliography Vita

The section tities are extracts nom texts written by Daniel Libeskind. List of Figures

Figure Description Page 1. Daniel Libeskind. Plan of the Jewish Extension to the Berlin Museum. 1989. Collage. Courtesy EL Croquis ...... 112 2. Daniel Libeskind. Jewish Extension. 1989. Model. Courtesy Academy =dom ...... 113 3. Daniel Libeskind. The underground axes, discontinuous void, Holocaust tower. E.TA Hofhnana garden and staircase of the Jewish Extension. 1989. Modei. Courtesy EL Croquis..H...... ~...... e...~...... ~...~w..œ...... e..s.....~...e...~. 1 14 4. Daniel Libeskind. Façade of the Berlin Museum from Lindenstrasse, with the Jewish Extension under construction. 1996. Author's photograpb ...... Al5 5. Daniel Ubeskinâ. View of the consmction of the Jewish Extension from south, with Hoiocaust tower and E-TA Hoffmann Garden in forqpund. 19%. Courtesy El Croquis...... -..~..w.~...... e...... 116 6. Daniel Libeskind. View of the constniction of the jewish Extension from the east. with the Berlin Musuem in the background. 1996. Author's photogiaph,...... ~....œ~...~w...œ..o~.~...... e...... ~...... s...... 117 7. Daniel Libeskind. OssLflcation. from Ana tomy's Melancboly. 1981. Drawing. Cowtesy Daniel LibesLiad ...... 118 8. Daniel Ubeskind. Interior view of the Jewish Extension. 1989. Working modeL Courtesy Academy MLtlon~,...,...... ~..~...... ~~...... ~..... 119 9. Daniel Libeskind. Interior view of the Jewish Extension. 1989. Working modd. Coutesy Acaderny Mitions ...... ,...... *...... e..m...... ~..w...... t...... 119 10. Daniel Libeskind. Verdcal V, from Chamber Works: ArcMtecrural Medicidons on 12iemes fmm Heraditus 1983. Courtesy Daniel Libeskind ..... 120 11. Daniel Libeskind. Vertical Horizon. from Micromegas. 198 1. Drawing. courtesy Daniel Libeskind ...... ,.. ..,...... 121 12. Daniel Libeskind. Psycho-Cybemetic Projection of Berlin. 1987. Compter-generated collage. Courtesy Academy Mitions...... 122 13. Daniel Libeskind. The Jewish Extension to the Beriin Museum. 1989. Conceptual Drawing. Courtesy Daniel Lib~skinde...... 123 14. Daniel Libeskind. The E.TA Hoffmann Garden of the Jewish Extension. 1989. Working model. Courtesy Academy Wtion~...,...,.....-...... --...... 124 15. Daniel Ubesldnd. The underground axes of the Jewish Extension, with roads leading to the staircase and garda. 1989. Working modd. Courtesy Academy Edftions...... 124 16. Daniel Libeskind. The Memory Machine, from Thee Lessons in Architecture. 1985. Mixeci-media (destroyed). Courtesy Daniel ïibeskinâ..... 125 17. Daniel Ubeskind. Line of Fire. 1988. Mixecl-media instalïation (dis- mantied). Courtesy El Croqa...... 126 List of Appendices

1 Letter to the architect Mr. Daniel Libeskind regarding permission to reproduce figues...... -...... 93 11. Perxnission from the office of the architect Mr. Daniel Libeskind to reproduce figures...... ~...... o...... o...o.o...... o...... o...o.o...... 94 Preface

1 would have iiked to remain silent on the enigma of the soul, namiag it only in the title as that which the reader should be perpetuaily searchicg for in the iines of text that foliow. If 1 were given the opportunity to write this essay over yet again, perhaps I would exclude any mention of it For the sou1 might have unconcealed itself to the searcher more puthfully without my aid in the matter, without my diâactic and presumptuous claims to spealc of something of which might be bener left unspoken. Maybe the sou1 has survlved my blunt and unwieldly words nevertheless: perhaps silence is what they amount to in the end in spite of all efforts to approach this mystery from the babbiing that is laquage. And if that is so, 1 would not regard it as an unprofessional flaw in schoiarship but as a loglcal outcome of the only honest way of deaihg with such a subject. If 1 had refrained entirely from spealdng directly of or about the soul though, 1 might have invalidateci the thesis, confounded scholarly expectations and rendered the project unintelligible in the cold eyes of sense and practicality. My compromise, therefore, consists in having made a conscious effort, with which 1 hope the reader will sympathize, to refrain from phony conclusions and last wrds. The initiai idea for this investigation evolved out of previous research on aesthetic theory, and partlcuiarly the reception of the sublime in modem art and thought Here, however, 1 have attempted to draw a slow remat fiom the current discourse on that subject, some of which borders on Romantic nostalgia and a disguised flight from our pressing historical condition in aii of i ts ramifications: cultural, scientific, philosophical, political, ur ban, etcetera. Likewise, having suspended a concern over the problem of contemporary paindng characterizing much of my former work this paper marks my thi.rd exploratory foray into the domain of architecture. My second comprised an examination of the critical displacement of what 1 ventured to calî the metaphysics of ornamentin pst-World War U design; the Atst approached the work of the New York architect Peter Eisenman from the perspective of epistemology in the age of electronic meâk It was through my research on the latter topic that 1 was inaoduced to the profound and disnirbing work of the intemationally recognized architect providing the occasion for the current investigation. The thesis that follows, therefore, can be read partly as an exercise in grafüng eîements of eariier research and reflection onto the intricate temain of contemporary architecture. The initial hypotheses, teieological direction and order of contents prescribed for this paper upon begiming have shuffled around and been rethought over the course of writing. but 1 Ueto Weve that the intention of the wwk has alwys remained the same. Whether this intention cm be named is another issue. In fact, it was precisely this problem - deflntng in language the theoretical parameters of the foliowing research under the suspect and nearly rtâiculous sign of soul - that forced me to alter my whole approach when 1 was conveniently on track. Obliged by intuition to abandon the traditional scholastic organization of the essay which 1 deemed unsadsfactory, 1 was rnoclvated (partly by the architectural work under Investigation) to put fonh a Merent manner of wricing whose affinity with the fragmentary and someclmes disjuncdve logic of the aphorlsm was welcomed. For 1 reaiized that any systemadzing mode of organfiation was arbitrary and inappropriate to the difficult and elusive object of study, namely the drawings, texts. installations. machines and inventions, not to mention the architecturai design itseif, of the Polish-born architect Daniel ïibesünd (b. 1946). Moreover, in approachhg such an uniikely issue as the spiritual in an epoch mark4 by petty thoughts. dishonest values and misdirecteci dreams, 1 felt 1 could not maintain the convendonal Literary form ornaineci by the institution. The reader might complaln. tberefore, that there is no thematic order here, nor an end towarâs which the inquhy is unravelling. Yet that is not entirely true; kcause something is not perceivable on the horizon does not mean it is absent. Depositing the reader in the midst of things, so to speak. the inûoduction to this essay accounts for a paraâigm shift wlthin contemporary thought about the wul. That 1 name and refer to examples of Libesldad's work at the outset is not iatended as a preview of what 1 &ail discuss in the course of thls paper; 1 do not wish to fedshize the object nor celebrate their author but usher in the probIern at hand through a sudden invocation of the wrk itseff. Furthermore. the introduction does not name a thesis so much as point ahead to an exploratory Mdof rem,in -ch each step is understooâ as a nearly unforeseen went. What follows the introduction can be portrayeci as a continuous and distended albeit broken text whose numerous stretches of inquiry are like stations dong the way. We do not know precisely where we are king led because the future is uncertain and indeterminate; yet, as in Walter Benjamin's Eînbahnsnasse (which served as a textuai mode1 for organizing my own reflections), the richness of our thought is becomlng thicker. This thickening is analogous to the way in which the iinear body of Ubeskind's Jewish Extension to the Berh Museum (19894997)- the limeiight of this theoretical investigation - widens as it staggers backward on the site like a jagged blast of Ughtning. ïndeed, this tortuous structure has been on my mind ever since I abandoneci the -cial architecture of my flrst draft in order to conceive of a fltting or more authentic way of organizhg my research. 1 shodd point out that each ustaaion" in the text is designated as such with a provocative and somedmes cryptic Une engineered by the architect himseif. 1 have cited the source for these Unes - upon th& appearance as section titles in the essay - in the endnotes collecteci at the back While they function as headers portending the subject matter of each Une of inqujr. they can also be read on a structural level as inscriptions of Libeskind's architecturai writhgs in my own work Finally, as we progress fkom one 'station" to the next, we reaiize that because the future is unpredictable and interpretation open to the logic of Wty(according to Nietzsche). any conclusions are pseudo-conclusions. To be sure, the descriptions begun, the debates interpolateci, and the questions opened along the way wiU always be more important than any ending, any deducdon, any resolution pronounceci in the finai pages of this paper. When I envisioned the manner of procedure and presentadon briefly describeci above, 1 was instantly confronteci with an accompanying problem. In order that this styllstic mannerism obtain criticai substance with respect to the architecture inspiring it, I had to fhd some way of initiating a responsible dialogue with that architecture rather than Mtating, so to spealr, its formaüst -es and innovations In the body of my text. Whether 1 have done so, howver, is not my judgment to pass. Thus, with my foravaniiags and apologies put forth, I hope that anothet khd of order, a manifold order not reducible to standards of academic research and human understanding alone. will disclose a sign of its presence in what is otherwise an invisible matrix - to use Libeskind's termiaology again - of conceptual 'stations." subterranean axes of the sod, thematic points of inflecdon and tangency. As Libeskind's Jewish extension is a critique of the transparency of representation and rneaning in architecture, moreover, 1 have endeavoted to cultivate a poetics of art historical rdection and ignore the hermeneutic conventions of the past. To conclude this preface. which is also an aftmrd, the question of soul with wbich I began to tWabout this thesis wuld seem to have invited a methodolgy informed by biography, behaviodst psychology or even psycho- analysis, but I have steered away from these controversial theoretical models in order to iliumhate the more strictly metaphysical undertones of an architecture of mul. My approach to this subject then, if it can be spoken of in terms of a methodoiogy, was guided by the often extra-art historicai iiterature of Goethe, Kant. Hegel. Nietzsche, Worringer. Benjamin, Heidegger, Lyotard, Demida, Deleuze, and Vattîmo, among many othen. Wbile 1 am no advocate of a comparative styi.isdc/semiotic analysis guided by an historicist positivism and a Weendeavor to transform the discipline of art histos, into a rigourous science - and this b what 1 undentand to be a langufshing nom -, 1 am neither a faithful adherent of the false pluralism of pst-modemist history and cridcism. My point of depamue is certainly framed by today's dominant alternatives, but 1 am more interesteci in the strategy (one that 1 discerned in the work of some of the authors named above) that seeks to emancipate the work from an objective violence latent in historidsm, not simply to open the work to a groundless inffnity of interpretadon or a deferred chah of sisnifiech, but more importantly to suggest that presence in art and architecture sCUl matters. This presence is no longer the presence of being but an alighcing upon something unnameable and unassimilable; and it is what I &ail cd, after Lyotard, soul. At stake here, conse~uently,is ahthe possibUty of an art history of soul. An ensemble of twenty-eight ârawiags inspirecf by Heraclitus snikes me as a fantastic heresy. Three machines. built to teach unlikely lessons in the history of architecture. forsake the instructor during a mysterious conflagration: '1 experienced a sudden perishing of my sou1 enguifed as it were in Fie," says their creat0r.l From the soul's ashes, another kind of fie, the Line of Flre, breaks out in the form of a red wooden smcture of obüque angles bolting betwe~a colonnade and foreshadmvhg another edifice of the imagination. A mode1 of a horizontal skyscraper, said to be groundfng itself in the clouds, Is tumed on its edge and exhibiteci as a papier-ache relief made from pages of the Bible, telephone directories. world maps and James Joyce's Ulysses Other architecniral texts, esoterlc statements and poetic wrftings, obiige us to forfeit, or at lem admowiedge the llmfa of. reax>n: their Joycean vocabulary, syntax, punctuation and absurd spatiai organizadon discioses a metaphysical affinity with architecture. But b this architecture? From the perspective of an art historian not accustomed to principles of engineering and design, 1 would argue that architecture as building is hefd in check in the drawings, machines. iascallations, models, collages. projections, texts and projects conceiveci by Daniel Libeskind. Working at the Mts - and often outside - of Ms profession, it is the history of architecture as it frequently embdies a persistent cosmology that some of us can no longer honestly uphold, that he challenges with such a sharp imagination, subversive politics and profound historical consciousness.~ It is no coincidence, moreover, that this cosmology. whose origins are Platonic and Vitnwian, is concomitant with the varying but equally obsolete accounts of the soul's architectonic mechanics related in and by the history of metaphysics. Cdticizing expectations and habitual assumptions regarding architecture, Ubeskind explalas that 'what ever can be thought about architecture is not what 1 do." In elaborating on this assertion, he continues: Whatever I can think about it I then dispose of as not befng necessary to what 1 do, since to my mind architecture mwt be something that cannot be thought about, and cannot therefore be analyzed in the sarne way and cannot be predirad on the same belas the thought3

How can this be, given that whatever he draws or builds necessarily begins with ideas and thought? Right, but we ought to withdraw from the causal relationship and penetrate behind the frustrating inconsistency entangled in his words. To do this 1 suggest that we imagine architecture as a temporal as well as spatial event perpetually becoming, developing, even transfomhg itseif, in the processes of design, cons~uctionand use. These processes, in turn, are compounded with events and discourses that are heterogeneous and wholly other with respect to the initiai ideas with which the project begins to take shape. Any instrumentai concept of architecture as a finite, determinate and uniRed Meredudble to a singie thought from the beginning is therefore abandoneci. For if it is to acquire an affective potenbial in our epch of mediatecl reality and nearly absolute information, architecture might have to becorne an uncertain, unpredictable and unstable endty movtng beyond. before or in becween lines of thought. For between Unes of thought there are those caesuras of the unthought, the unknown and the inexplicable that have the power to take our breath away. Likewise, the unbuildable, the incomplete fragment and the ruin hide beyond or beneath a.U our projected illusions of stabiiity, sauctura.1 rationality and the beauty of a dmeless presence. Again, this is due to the complex temporaîity of architecture that much of the recent theory and criticism in tbis field attempts to define. 1 seriously doubt, therefore, that architecture can remain the simple cosrnologlcal expression of a stable universal order - the nature of whlch be defineci shortly - and yec presume to be truthfuî to the cornplexides and contraâictions of our historicai condition. This conviction, however, does not preclude the possibility of another order more incricate than die one with which we are so famil=rr. Nevertheless, the hegemony of a classical discowse still forcibly present in modernism as a technical imperative must be overcome (for reasons that WUbecome clear in the unfolding of this paper), and 1 beiieve that Libeskind's work is part of a broader attempt within contemporary architecture to see this paradigm shift through. As such, his work represenu an attempt to uncover that which is too often concealed by the architecture of a single determining rational thought an architecture of soul. But how shall we judge an architecture of soul'l What are the criteria? Here we must pause, for I beiieve it could be argued that architecture has always been an architecture of soul. Rather, it has always aspired to this condition. Every buiîdlng on earth refiects, in varyhg degrees, in negative and positive wtys, the sou1 of the people, the soui of the culture. the soui of the land, the sou1 of the city, the soul of the era, the sou1 of the client, the souî of the creator, or the soul of the cosmos. But such truisms are banal, their pronouncements suspect, tautological and arbitrary in the extreme, and therefore in need of a critical reewminadon. For sou1 is not merely at our disposal to inscribe, invest or manifest in the form or image of a building. It would be dellriously mthropocentric to beliwe that Hence. we need to probe beyond such conventional modes of understanding, and even displace the metaphysics of souVmatter that has arguably guided the entire history of creation and reflecdon on art and architecture. Must we recali Hegel's phenomemlogy of spirit, so conclusive of a tradition and yet so inspiring to the intellects of modernity. to substanoiate this clafm? Perhaps we ought to; for in an essay on art entitied uResence." the French thinker Jean-Francois Lyotard attacks the ideaiist Wtion, Inltiated by the Greelts and canied to its apex by Hegel. On the nature of the soul, he writes: Usually it is the sou1 which is seen as giving life to the work. 1 don? understand it like that. I wuld like to remove the nodon from any vitallsm, fmrn any dialecdc. 1 don't believe the sou1 to be immanent in visible ... forma4

The idea that soul is immanent in the wrk as that which forms, orders and animates its matter is an Aristoteîian dom that Lyotard presumes to deconstructs Hawwer, it b uncertain as to where the sou1 now goes if it is no longer discerneci in the dlalogue between fonn and matter. Instead, the phiiosopher implies that sou1 is an instance or experience of matter itseif (i.e., color, timbre), made up of innumerable Immaterials, inmiteci in its primal state of chaos and formiess~less,and that the upresmce"that is this instance can be cultivateci by art? It ts diffîcuit to grasp what Lyotard means by sou1 as an tastance of presence, but we can be certain that he is no longer speaWng of piamusla, or the presence of beiag. indeed, presence is not constnicted as the meta-physical opposite of absence. Circumambulating around the term. he states that presence is a temporal event or occurrence, a caesura in narrative thought, a pause in refiection that has the potential of taldng our breath away in a world and the where insensidvity, ignorance and pettiness rareiy permit thia Presence, Lyotarâ implies in another context, and with respect to achial artworks of our dme, announces that chere is - that there is something rather than nothing.7 There is something even before it is formed and constituied as something, before subjectivi~can deflne itseif in relation to that thing, before it can be captured by narrative plots, before meaning can be hypothesized and amibuteci via a numbof hermeneudcal devices. WVhe ther as an or architecture, the work that bears Mmes to this event is susceptibly open to the terror of nothing happening, the chaos of formlessness, the anxlety of the void As such, an art of presence is an art open to the question of art before al1 vulgar answers: and thus it marks the possibiîity of art and is the condition out of which it arises. Such a work interrogates its very existence and being: 'is it happening, is this it, is it possible7 9 The artist whose work provides a clearing for presence, says Lyotard, 'suspends the miad... and &es it jump into soul."lO Ssren Kierkegaard might have calleci this a leap of fait&,a religious moment wherein aü thought comes to a hait, but today we wiil have to corne up with other wods to describe it.1 Thus, from Lyotarâ's renrarks 1 infer that sou1 is a feehg for this lapse of reax>n, this verrigo-indudng îiberation hmaU causaüty, logic and sdentific truths that hitherto provided the animal rationale with a metaphysical ground. He quotes the mad Gennan poet Friedrich H45lderli~:'The caesura for the human mind is the point where it stays suspended, and on which the divine ïight beams."12 Thus, when there is soui, the mind sUners and alights upcm sornething, as in the feeiing of the sublime elaborated by Immlnuel Kant in the thlrd Critique, The Cnftique of Judgment. The soul, iike beauty and subllmity accordhg to Kant's definition of these aesthetk categories, does not reside in art or the spectator - neither matter nor mind - but in the relatioaship that the spectator sustains with that art object. In my opinion, relativdy few buildings have courted this state of grace. Nwertheless, in the course of this investigation, we WUpursue what 1 caii an architecture of sud. If I engage Libeskind's work as a point from which to research, study and interrogate this subject, it is not because 0th- architects have faiied to realfie an architecture of soul. Furthemore, it goes without saying that there is no one architecture of sod, but a divenity of equally viable contestants whose scope is pleasingly international. Thus, in approaching the work of Libeskind, I have no intention of implying that the architect would cdwhat he does, and only what he does, an architecture of soui. Nor wouid I myself claim this label for his work, for that would be immature, seif-indulgent and altogether pointîess. Rather, the reason for which 1 am broaching this question arises out of a more general concern for architecture in what can be perceiveci as a spLrituajly comipt epoch.13 That said. I wuld argue that Libeskind nearly invites us to consider his work in this Ugh~an architecn~eof soul is evinced in the very language he employs while stating his theories and commenting on his projects. Indeed, he is one of the few architects workhg today to fearlessly reafflrm the modernist quest for an architecture of spiritual proportion, capable of acting upon us and 'designhg the conditions" for new ldeas of subjectivity and collectivity, individuality and community, reason and perception, representation and memory, spirit and history, freedom and necessity, space and time, and the order of the universe in general, to root themselves and flower in the coliective psycheJ4 Although his entire oeuvre is Uely applicable in this context, 1 will focw on the Jewish Extension to the Berlin Museum of Chic History because it is currently in the last phase of construction, as opposed to other plans and designs that remai. on paper and thereby do not engage the community as such. That is not to say, however, that the built will be priviïeged over the unbuilt. or that the drawings. collages, projections. machines and installations will be ignored. On the contrary, these are quite indispensable if we are to constmct a convincing case for an architecture of soul. Likewise, notwithstanding Lyotard's speculadon on sou1 as a touch of presence. sou1 has meant a number of things to people in the past; and those meaaings cannot be ignored or effaced here, even if the immanent polysemy or undecidability of sou1 malies me hesitate in fear. ïndeed, there are fears about certain words, those we do not fulîy comprehend because their significance is ultimately beyond representation, whereby, to speak in the lexicon of semiohgy, an abyss is gïimpseci betwen the shores of the signifïer and the signifieci. Such a disjointeci sign is the one under which 1 have initiatecl this research. Manifest in oui is a condition of excess signification, one wherein this word. throughout history and the philosophical speculation therein, the world over, becomes explosively full of meaning. This condition is tnily sublime, for it stops me here and now and forces me to refiect on what it mfght mean to say an architecture of souL So many things perhaps! Yet despite the Babeiic confusion around sou we caa pdat to a number of semantic dimensions that will be discusseâ in the course of Ws paper. aIbeit in no successive or regimented order. sou1 as feeîing and passion, soul as identity, creative intellect and technological speculation, sou1 as microcosmic order and mord imperative, and soul as memory and historical spirit (Geist ). Architecture, I believe, is capable of cridcdy addressing each of these dimensions anew, and 1 wiïl argue that Libeskind's Jewish Extension to the Berlin museum, an award-winniig design of 1989, dœs just that, albeit in a very special way skice it must also contend with the ho- and tragedy of an event that put a halt to the meanfngfki developrnent of Jewish culture in Berlin. Through a contoned but nevertheles wolving sequence of chapters, then, 1 hope to initiate a theoretical discussion of the museum, in conjuncdon with other inspiring projects, under the guiding theme of soul.

1. The Civ as a Star of Redemption is reb-acted and congeaLF into a uboogie- wgie" Wre cons tella doni 5

The composition of the Jewish extension is drawn according to an irrational geometry that is dfnicuît, if not impossible. to visuaüze as a totaîity. It can be slowly unfolded before our eyes in a number of ground plans, elevadons, sections, models and photographs. but it nwertheless challenges our abiIity to momentarily conceptuallze it as a unlfied and transparent whole. For the underlying multiform concept of this extension, Libeskind is indebted to a number of muses whose identities we shall reveal in the course of this investigation, but the shape itself emerged as a comection between seemingîy arbitrary points. -king at a collage (fig. 11, where the impriat of a palm, the star of Israel, texts discussing the museum extension, two polygonal photograms of the model itseif, and a minute outiine of the BerUn museum with the Jewish excension, float in an abyssal space of conNcting orthogonal Lkies. we obtain an lnlding as to how Ubeskind ploned these irregular points. This collage is not an aftsy blueprint of the project but an index of the mulnform concept underpinning it; and so it is not to be simply layed befoce the spectator as a tool for understanding the project. Nevertheless, we mi@ conclude that the points and rhW connectlng vectors are not arbitrary but signifiant insofar as they marlr a nemrk of addresses of individuals who had contributed to the culmral vitality of BerUn before the catastrophic absoluteness of the Holocaust Some of th& names are finely printed in various districts of the collage, perhaps in the pro>dmlty of wtiere they lived or worked with respect to the locale of the Beriin museum and its extension: E.T.A. Hoffmana (author, musician and lawyer at Charlottenstrasse 36, 1776- 1822); Rachel Varnhagen von Ense (literary critic, 1771-1833); Friedrich Schleiermacher (theologian, 1768-1834); Heinrich Heine (pet at H6hren- strasse 32): Heinrich von Kleist (playmight, 1816-1911);Arnold Schoenberg (composer, 38741951); Walter Benjamin (cultural historian and critic, 1892- 1940); Paul CU(poet on ûranienstrasse, 192067); and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (architect at 24 Am Karlsbad, 1886-1%9).16 1 am not entirely certain how Libeskind plotted the addresses of these men and women in his collage, but the old Baroque map of the dty that he used for cutting out the shape of the Jewish star suggesu that he might have first placed that map beneath the paper and thereby traced the network of points and Unes, after which he ail& the two-dimensional surface of Berlin to slip away into what he rnight cdthe uobUvion-lines" seen in the collage. in one of his les rational moments, the architect has ranted: 'There will be no more cities on the surface only what is uPAnished. ..."l7 hdeed, ddes are no longer on the surface because they are now constituted by the concentration of utentacularw nodes and networks of information rather than the concentration of housing, office buildings and other urban functions physicaily delineated within a mathematicaily measurable space.18 By drawing the Unes between the points of address in his collage. Libesldnd gathers together the absent space-times of those cultural models catalogued above. both Protestant and Jewish Berliners alike. Hence. the abyssal projection of Lines. As the collage pictorially intimates. this sequence of iinear trajectories yielded a symbolic shape reminiscent of the double- triangle or the sign of Israel. albeit broken, elongated and expîosively âistorted in the achial physiognomy of the design. But it is not that Libeskind

COM~C~~the dots and soon after wimessed a miradous rwelation of the star of David. as some altics lead us to belleve. Rather, 1 suspect that he saw a sign of this star in the crossing of veaors, and then desirecl to draw it out into the open as a symboUc trace (in Derridean terms) dose meaning is unstable and not enclrely present. In either case, the violent geometry of the plan (evocative of a particuku moment in the history of Berlin when Jews were branded, degraded and exterminated) conveys an attempt to iink the representative addresses symbollcaüy in what the architect calîs a 'culturai constellation of Universal History" - though what the he means by the latter is provocatively ambiguous and WUbe discussed later.19 Libesünd has also caiîed this consteiiation of points a uhope-oriented matriun (BL 29). insofar as the 'projection of that star into the linear geometrics of the museum" (BL 28) faces the tragedy of history with an anticipative gestute towards the future. However, this hopefd projection of the star does not throw the tragedy that has come before it into obscuriry: nor does it present a naively utopian image of what is to come. Rather, uBerlin's precarious destiny is mimoreci, fractured and displacecl - but also transfonned and nansgressedw(BL 28) by this deeply metaphysical intervention in a site pervaded by forgedulness. suspect political ideology, and incongruent social institutions. History, the present and destiay are thus made to articulate th& uncertain courses in, through, and üetween 'two lines of thinking, organization and relationshipwgenerated by the design:

One is a suaight Ilne, but broken into many fragments: the other is a tortuous line, but continuing infinitely. These two lines develop architecturatly and programmatically through a limiteci but definite didogue. They also fa11 apart, become disengaged, and are seen as separated. In thls way, they expose a void that runs thmugh architecture and through this museum, a discontinuous void. And in tum. this dixontinuous void materialises itself in the condnuous space outside as something that has ben ruined, or rather as the solid residue of an independent structure; what 1 cal1 the voided void. Then there is a fragmentation and splinterîng, marking the lack of coherence of the rnuseurn as a whoIe, showing that it has come undone in order to become accessible, bodi functionally and Intellectuatly. ( BL 2 8)

We will begin to understand the dynamics of this simultaneously constitutive and minous dialogue by looking at the final mode1 for the extension (fig. 2). The straight Ilne of which the architect speaks, which in the extension will zip back 150 metres toward the eastern horizon but nevertheless remain invisible to al1 but the stars, is deflned by a column of grffles on the roof through which natural light will pass and thereby illuminate the interior sections of the 'discontinuous void" (fig. 3). The linear space of this Une of voids is discontinuous for the obvious reason that it is disrupted by the second Une which is jagged and consequently obliterates the visible presence of the first on the exterior. Nevertheless, in addition to the traces of the first Une's absence marked by the interior spaces of the comdor of voids which rises to a height of 26 rnetres above the ground, fragmenteci volumes in the shape of napezoids. triangles and parallelograms - what the architect calls the 'voided voids" - will appear as if they have ken cut out of that comdor and scattered around the landscape as the niins of what camot be re;issembIed or rebut. Just how many of these wlll be realized in the end is not foreseeable. but the construction of the Holocaust tower (that lonely black figure off to the right side of the extension) and the voici within the Berlin museum constituting the point of.entry into Libeskind's buiïding. have akeady been built The function of the other potential voids bas not yet ken determineci, but the architect is confident that many possibiiitîes WUsuggest themselves if they are conscnicted: however, the mode1 seems to suggests tbeir misfortunate absence in the final phase of this building's realization. Whether these additional uvoided voidsn appear in the future or not, the nature of the building is akin to an assemblage of unusuai volumes around wiiich displacecl fragments (including the concrete court of indineci colwnns) are lodged or drawn out from undemeath. Moreover. despite appearances to the contrary, the Jewish extension is really a cluster of many buildings held together and ~0~eCtedvia interior bridges crossing the sanctifieci space of the voids. For the path of voids bolts through our space, frachiring and distorting it at every tum. but nevertheless spinging those fragmentary volumes together in a new unfty. It follows that the inside drculation routes are not at a.U what they appear to be from the exterior: a contorted but nevertheless sequential set of exhibition spaces foilowing the seemingly

Wstic path of the crookeà and partMly zig-zagging liae.20 But let me defer discussion of this subject untiî later; more important at this early point in the essay is to keep in mfnd the general exterior form of the project Whiie the inflected line is intended tu mime the twisted and fragmented narrative of BerUn's cultural history. which wiU continue indefinitely, the Une of voids is suggestive of the relative absence of Jewfsh culture in the period foiîowing World War II. Thetefore. the interior voids are not only spatiaîiy and visdy disniptive, but also psychologicaUy disturbing, stopping us in our tracks and urghg us to reflect on an emptiness that piagues pose Holocaust humanity. In later sections of this paper. 1 will elaborate on this aspect of the design as it pertains to the intractable subjects of perception, spatial experience, historical memory and feeling. Having presented a brief descriptive account of the emergence of the design of the Jewish extension, I would now Ue to take one step backward in order to acquire the necessary momentum for initiadng a dfscussion of the historical but by no means visibly unequivocal relationship between the production of architecture and the metaphysical construcdon of that substance Teferreci to as the soul.

2. SM,cd of the soul, hides a deaf monk suddag opinions... ?

1 have ken writing and aii dong assuming that the common visitor to the museum extension wiii be equipped with the speciaüzed knowiedge articulatecl above. But such information, especiaiiy when it pertains to public buildings, is hardly ever relayed to the visitor in advance. Those of us who are privileged in this respect. on the contrary, might benefit by forgemg what we already know and appropriating the average visitor's innocence as a model, in an effort to partiaiîy divest ounelves of predeterrnining knowledge. Lifting the protective skin that is the shelter of a stale inteliectualism, we might in tum obtain a more original image and understanding of the buiiding. A visit to the site WUdemonstrate the point that 1 am tqdng to communicate. but there are photographs and cornputer-generated images of the model providing us with a vimial sense of how the extension wiii appear at street-level in the meandme. One of these images is particuiar1y relevant as it exhibits the scale of the building with respect to the human figure. and simultaneously renders present the question of modernlty in Libeskind's architecwe.22 Next to the walls of the extension. llbesldnd has spïiced a reproduction of the famous photograph showing Mies van der Rohe and Le Corbusier wallring together in Stuttgart in the year 1926. They were the afchitects of a utopian modemism. of which Libeskind's building is a critique; and here they help to give us an idea of what the stncture wiïï look Like from an actual human perspective. The walls rise hi@ above them, and the trees strewed about the site obscure th& relationship to the building. Beneath the two men is printed uAnsicht von Westen (Lindenstrasse).' for this is a view from the west along Lindenstrasse where the building assumes a rectangular boxiness for a moment, and then bends and zips back in an irregular fashion. presenting us with an indeterminate number of differently angled façades in the process. The photographs lncluded as figures 4, 5 and 6 make this point visuai, ofking us perspectives of the elevation respectively from the west. south aad east. Many critics of the Jewish extension have irresponsibly spoken of a Uteral representation of a zig-zagging iighming bolt disfiguring and searing the landscape, or wen a distorted star of Isael. Although it may seem obvious to the reader now that we have commented on the elwation of the extension. these writers forget the simple visual fact that our average visitor to ïibeskind's building wiïl lnitialiy have no such idea of the projection of the star, the constdation of adâresses. the two lines of organizadon, the Une of voids, nor the dismembered body of thfs supposedly zig-zagging structure. Although these integrai traits are Likely to uafold into the domain of human imagination as the sensitive visitor taises her or his chosen course inside and around the extension. she or he wiiî probably never conaetely envision bolts of iighming or fractured stars. Such images will and should remain on an associational level only, for the architect can evoke such imagery in a symboLic or metaphoncal way, but he cannot represent it. Nevertheless, our common spectator wlll sureiy acquire a feeling for the disjunctive angles and assemblage of architectural parts that compose this extension. Those residing in the high-rise apartments nearby will undoubtedly have a different perception of the building. but we must consider the average visitor here. At grouad level, confronted by an indeterminate structure whose towering corners and oblique planes present nothhg that we can acUycall a primary famde, we might recoil in bewilderment and surprise, left only with an intimation of its labyrinthine complexity. And yet. the architect impiies that his buLlâing suappears within the spatially finite parameten of a representable physiognomy. In the experience of this architecture. States the self-assured voice of übesldnd during an interview, the 'museum-goer is aware of the gap which separates the physiognomy of the buLlding from the shape of the soul - which, according to the Jewish tradition. is not closed but opens towards non-spatial realms.*z3 Whether these non-spadal realms can be represented by time, the fourth dimension, or that which remains outside of space-time altogether, is not able to be speculated upon at present, but we wlll resume this trxjectory of thought at a later point in the essay. Now, I WUinstead endeavor to make sense of what Libeskind says regarding the conceptuai abyss between the physiognomy of the Jewish extension and the invisible parameters of the soul. 1 would argue that thls abyss is analogous to what separates the fadty of presentation from the unpresentable idea of reason according to Kant in The Critique of Judgment. The soul is surely one swh example of an mpresentable construct that Carnot be conveniently thought about or intimately known. AU our names for it, bestowed by the many historical represenratives of Westem theology and phitosophy. seem to convey nothing other thaa an impotent series of opinions or attempts to translate. define, delimit and render the thing tangible in language. Fire, breath. vapor. spirit, pneuma, nous. psyche, anima, l'Arne, reason. cognition, inwardness, passions, mind, subjectivity, selfhood. consciousness. intelligence: what are these. if not as-if analogies for the unpresentable? According to Kant, the feeling of the sublime is provokeâ by such an instance of the unpresentable. An idea of reason such as God. freedom or immortaiïty (those are Kant's examples, although I beiieve we could also include being, cime, space, history. evil, soul, - even architecture - or any other consûuct of reason for that matter) brings the imagination up against an unbridgeable guif. This can strike tmrin us. but the encounter need not be entirefy taxing upon the mind. On the contrary? if the imagination is stretched and thereby involved in a struggle to achleve an image of the unpresentable, there is much pleasure in the prospect of success. Kant caïïs it pleasure begotten through pain. derived as it is from the spiritual accornpLishment of the imagination, prodded dong by the voice of reason. when preseneing us with aa analogy for the unpresentable. Hence, the unpresentable is what stops us in our tram and forces us to reflect on what binds the self together with the rest of humanity: namely. human reason. What is it then that arrests, &am back the reins of our cornmonplace thought, and clears a way for reflection on the community surroundhg the self, when we are confronteci with the Jewish extension? Perhaps this will have to remain unnameable for the reason that this building's significance is complicated by the hormr of an inexplicable and cosmologically absurd went that automaticaîly desmys what Kant heard under the name of the sensus cornmunis Recalling Libeskind's statement however, 1 would opine that the architect, having acknowledged the gap between the physiognomy of his design and the indeterminate nature of the contemporary soul, is now impiicating us in his architectural meditations on what the souî might 'look like" today if, by pulling away the ucowi,n we were able to render its invisible and immaterial nature intelligible and presentable in and through the figure of ana log^.^^

3. htional number washhg its indivisible quodent in the black warer of Beginning25

We know what the souï 'looked We" In the past: that is, we can laboriously reconstruct wfiat philosophers, theologians. poets and artists ehought about it over the course of Western history. In so doing, we will Aiid that its nature has been aiî but agreed upon - dthough most of our refiecdons on this rnysterious thing do stem, if ody indfrectly, from a theoretical amalgam of Socratlc cosmology and Aristotellan humanism. On the Socracic modei. the human sou1 is merely an embodied microcosm of what is ultimately more original: the universal cosmos. As such, in this chapter 1 wodd like to consider Plato's Tfmaeus, a text about the sou1 of the cosmos that has coincidentaily - and perhaps ironicaiiy - becorne criticaîly relevant for a number of architects and theoreticians currently endeavorlng to undermine the presuppositions of an architecture stiîl in the vice of classical idealism26 In Plato's dialogue, Timaeus offers an explication of the Begianing of the world as we perceive it He recounts how the universe is created by an almighty demiurge Ath an architecturai sensibiîity for rneasuring. framing and ordering. Simply put. he informs his cornpanions of how this creator modelei the world-sou1 or cosmos on the order of his originary soul. according to the fundamental Lam of geometry and the Pythagorean doctrines of proportion and harmonic intewal. The world-sou1 is thus composed math- ematicaily and rationaiiy on the basis of that otdest and most sublime abstraction: number. The demiurge. as Timaeus says. thereby imposes an order on the abyssal chaos of matter confronting him at the moment of creativity. The chaos referred to, significaatly, is the unpresentable or irrational space- time of the chora, a mysterious place or non-place wherein the four primary elements of the Greek imagination (Le., water, fire, earth and air) are sieved, divided and sorteci in preparation for the creation of the universe. As the description of chora constitutes a fagiie point in Plato's text where laquage founders in the inexpressible, the philosopher Jacques Derrida has lnvested a special interest in that passage. Cornmenthg on his coiiabration wlth Peter Eisenman in a design for the gardens of the Parc de la Viîlette in Paris, which took place in 1986 but was not cornpletely reaiized. he States:

There is In the 'Ilmaeus a figutal allusion which 1 do not know how to incerpret and which nevertheles seems to me decisive. It refers to the movement, the shaking..., the tremor in the course of which a seleaion of the forces or seeds takes place: a sorting, a filtering in the very place where, nevenheless, the place remains impassable, indeterminate, amorphous, etc. ft seems to me that this passage In the meus is as erratic, as difflcult to integrate, as depriveci of origin and of manifest tefos as that piece we have imagined for our Chod WorkL7

As Derrida implies, the metaphor of the chora, verging as it does on the not- yet metaphysical speculation of the pre-Socratics, became a Literary device inspiring the thematics of the project. in Choral Work, although it is a garden whose plan complements and overlays Beniard Tschumi's grid of red Folies, we find the exemplary characteristics of much architectural design whose principles are informed by the discourse of deconstruction or post- structuraiist thought: architecture as an indeterminate text or sign, anti- monumentality and the unstable ground, superimposition and the paîimpsest, fragmentation. recombination and collage, a quasi-psychoanalyical excavation of the site, the disjunction of form and hrnction. spatial ambiguity and cinematic montage, decentering and the disjoining of parts with respect to the whole, and in general a critique of visual order, all of which interferes with the humanist bond between vision and the mind. Architecture is no longer the creation of an individual but an event that precludes objectification. Before 1 go too far ahead on this tangent. I wouid Ue to rem to Plato's Thnaeus. if the passage regarding the chora uncovers an aporia in Tirnaeus' explanation of the Beglnning and creation, as Derrida suggesu. the speaker nevertbeless rationahes this enigrnatic moment, totallzing it in the idea3ist fashion and thereby concealing the 'black watern beneath the surface of his words. Whereas the originary sou1 is seen as somethlng essential, indestmctible, immutable, timeless and perféct, the world-soul is undentood as king attacheci to a cosmic body which. as an appearance, is changlng. transient, and flawed. Thus, Plato deais with the non-teleological and enigmatic flux of cliora by disdnguishing between being and becoming. Reality is a state of behg that we ought to illuminate for the common man whose wrld is a perverteb reflection of thls reality in the becomlng. Since the pyramids of Egypt (the civiüzation and world-views of which Plato was not ignorant), it appears that Western culture has priviieged the construction of an image of being over a uchoralwstate of becoming. If the architect was to remain true to original reaüty, according to a Platonic cosmology, he or she had to present an image of being by imposing order on the chaotic plurality of becoming visual phenornena around us, thereby imitatlng (in the sense of what the Greeks calleci mimesis) the primordial act of the demiurge. In turn, the distilled Lmage - one of symmetry. harmony and proportion - would be an exemplar of beauty because of its apparent correspondence with tmth. Remembering that Pîato was skeptical regardlng the fine am. the philosopher might have stiil ken disappointeci with such buildings, for it was only through inner contemplation that we could open the way to Puth. Howwer, as architecture does not purporc to represent auything in the world, it was not subject to the same condemution pronounceci upon poew and painmg* The Platonic explanation of the universe was not unknown to the architects of antiquity and subsequent epochs, for according to Vitruvius, the good architect had to lx educated in the philosophical arts as well as in the technical rudiments of buiîding. This learning is wident, 1 beiieve. in the physiognomy of many Greek and Roman structures whose symmetry and hannony of parts was often based on a canon of ideal measurements theorized by men such as Polykleitos and Minos. And if we are to heed conventionai interpremdons in the study of the history of Greek and Roman architecture, the buiidings of that period were intendeci as an expression of belng and cimeless monumentality, even as they now lay in &S. Architecture of the medieval period represents a departure from classical principles of building, but during the so-called Gothic phase, it is known that the Tlmaeus once again provideci a theoretical ground for the construction of divine architecture.28 In the soialled Renaissance, Baroque, Neo4assicai and modem periods, so too is order perceived as the measure of beauty in architecturai design, but here 1 do not have the space or üme to continue with my gros caricature which suppresses the dïversity of production and dl the undeniable exceptions to the nom. Ir is suffIcient to say that the history of architecture in the West demonstrates that the idea of order (Le., hannony and proportion), as traced in the cosmos and manifest in design, was thought in terms of visuai systems of number and measurement. Our concept of what constituteâ order was circumscribed by the physical-spatial realm, present to the hiiman eye and mind as the outward mirroring of an ostensibly more perfect reality. in tum, this vision-based idea of order denoted the stability of belrig over and against the chaos of becoming that characterizes out Ufe here on earth. Recalling once again Libeskind's remark about the physiognomy of the Jewish extension, we might now be inclined to believe that the sou1 as something immortal and tmmutable is to be seen fa contradisrinctlon to the outward physiognomy of the buiiding, merely a transient appearance in the beco&g.a While the latter may be true, 1 wdd Ukto hypothesize that the sou1 is no longer conceiveâ in terms of being in Libeskind's architecture, that the cosmology legitimating this insdtudona~eddogma is outdateci, and that the metaphysical dichotomy that it rests upon has been 'de-structuredm and displaced by the subversive logic of the chora, or undone and overcome by methhg more 0rigi.d. In order to understand tus phenornenon more clearly, we could gesture towards the thought of Plato's predecessor Heraclitus, who said: 'The ordering (Kosmos),the same for di, no god nor man has made, but it wer was and is and wili be: fie everiiving, kindled in measures and in measures going outm30 According to Heraciitus, the philosopher of eternal flux and evolution, it is futile to construct a transcendental prima1 cause for the beginning of the universe. Nevertheless, this preSocratic thinker did not deny cosmic order; rather, he deAned it in terms of an economy of the eiements wherein Rte (ir.. not a visible fîame but energy imbued with a kind of intelligence) is the universai substance, akin to Zeus' bolt of îighming or the flaming course of Helios, gdding and measuring all things. What Plato called the world-soul is, In HeracUtean cosmology, immanent in the becoming of things, although no duaiism of sou1 and body (ir., matter) has yet been concretely concephiaüled at this moment in history. Deferring this line of thought for the moment, 1 would now Wre to comment meron physiognomic order in architectural design, as this order meâiates between the harmony of the cosmos and the musicai rhythms and passions of the souî. After 1 have done that, 1 will be in a position to return to the question of Libeskùid's architecture, an architecture which disturbs the rational numbers and forms of tradition with an uinâivi~iblequotient" openlng other windows onto the -te, the unknow and the absurci.

4. me inventory of conNct confinns the gbost, casts each soui in a minor key - sLah on the diatonic3

Physiognomy has fnformed the theory and practice of architecture in varyhg degrees.32 It generaUy refers to the symmetry and near geornetrical order of facial expressions, since that is where the fleetlng passions of the sou1 were thought to be rendered plastic, especially according to the eighteenth-century acacîemiciaus of France. Men such as Charles Le Brun, informeci by a Cartesian duaiism of soul and body, beiieved that they could systematize and categorize the passions. This academlc interest in physiognomy seems to have replaced the eariier study of anatomical measures as a sign of the aninity between biological species and cosmological order. In generaî though, and under the aegis of NeePlatonism, the hannony and proportion of the human body and face were increasingiy seen, since the Renaissance, as an index of the divine make-up of the universe. The ideal fonn of a male nude, for instance, once again since antiquity, became an exemplar of beauty iike the structure of the cosmos. to be Mtated by and in art and architecture. The proof of this supposition fs given In Vitruvius' sketch of the ideal man draned over the Lines of a square grid and deiineated by the celescial symboiism of a circle, or Leonardo da Vinci's eqWy famous drawing (c. 1521) of that Vitnivian man. upright, proportional, symmetrical, one, whole and universal. More recently. Le Corbusier's Modulor systern of masure devised in 1946 and based on the Golden section and the proportions of the ideal man has confirmeci the mdying appeal of this anthropomorpbic humanism in architecture. From our vantage point we couid ciaim that such representations and beliefs about man as an orderly microcosm are merely anthropocentric constructions with fading theological undertones. but for the moment we will suspend judgment. More joining in a critique of the humanist tradition already under way in architecturai theory, 1 WUrecount the history or 'inventory of conflictw between physiognomy (the outward appearance of order) and sou1 in more detaii. For now 1 am concemed not with changhg world-views but the possibility of architechire, when its physiognomy is vizibly composeci accordhg to the laws of proportion and harmony such that the impact of the whole 1s instantaneous, to strike chords in the sou1 of a spectator, to '[cast] each soui in a minor key." Notwithstanding aii the self- reflective commentary and criticism of art and architecture as a medium through which to reach and affect the soul of individuals or commuaities, perhaps it is Joha~Wolfgang von Goethe who represeats this genre of reflection best when he comments in 1772 on his experience before the Strasbourg Cathedra1 (c. 1277) as follows:

The more the soul Is raiseci to a feeling for those proportions which alone are beautiful and eternal, whose principal harmonies may be proved but hose secrets can only be felt, in which alone the life of godlike genius is whirled around to the music of the sou1 - the more, I say, this beauty penetrates the king of the min4 so uiat it seerns to be born within that mind, so that nothing satisfies the mind but beauty, so that the mind creates nothing but beauty out of itself, so much the happier is the artist, and the more magnificent, and the lowr we prostrate ourselves and wrshlp the Lard's annointeci? Thrusting the religious piety aside. Goethe is almost ceRaialy looking upon the façade of this cathedra1 through the nostalgie spectacles of an idealist ciassicism, but his insistence on our lack of comprehension is what fiiis him with an motion that belongs to an aestheric that only later would be caüed Romaoticism. When each detail of the physiognomy is invested with the inaudible rhythms and harmonies of the inner soul, to speak in the language of mysdcism affecting Goethe at this moment, one has a feeling for the vvhole and the overail impression becomes tmiy sublime, or rather divine. The viewer empathizes with a structure whose organic order shares an affinity with the architecture of the sou1 in which God is now immanent. in this moment, the asbecorne inmateriai; indeeâ, the façade is dematerialized in the synaesthesia of experience and the spectator is obîigeâ to acknowledge what Libeskind, after Aquinas, Ues to call 'the substance of things hoped for and the proof of things invisible," the criteria for which becomes increasingly secuiarized under the idea of reason during the Eniightmenc.J4 Nevertheless, Goethe's reflections on the Strasbourg cathedra1 demonstrate that a son of reiigious experience involving a Ieap of fait&was stiil possible at this point in history. The impression which fiiied my soul," says Goethe, %as whole and iarge, and of a sort that (since it was composed of a thousand harmonizing detaiïs) I could relish and enjoy, but by no means identify and explain."35 During the thineenth century when such cathedrals as the one at Strasbourg were being built, many treatises wre written on the nahue of the soui, espedally in France at the School of Chartres where the Timaeus was considered to be Plato's principle text. At this tirne, a shift away from the eariier medieval understanding of the sou1 as an immaterial appendix of the body occ~~red.Hugh of St. Victor's treatise, On the Udon of Body and Spirit, remaineci in that philosophical tradition, but initiateci speculation on what mediates between the sou1 and the bOdy.36 Following this investigation. many scholars posited that the imagination - both a sensible and supersensible faculty - Wedthat intermecîiary hrnction. From this, we could hypothesize that art, as a product of the imagination, was thesefore chargecl with the task of materialiy presendng this link between the invisible and the sensible. Thus, this epoch gave rise to an increasingly Aristotelian or hurnanist understanding of the soul as an inner principle animating the individual body. In Gothfc Architecture and Scholasdcism, the art historian Erwin Panofsky writes: The human soul, though recognized as immonai, was now held to be the organiting and unifSng principle of the body itself, rather than a substance independent thereof."37 Panofsky was also to daim that 'the changing tenets in such matters as the relation between the soul and body were naturaily seen in the representational arts tather than architecture."38 But 0th- learned men such as Wübeim Worringer (and Goethe before him, as I have already noted) were able to detect the movements of the sou1 in the abstract physiognomic system of a Gothic façade. Lndeed, Worringer's 'psychology of style" is nothing other than an attempt, Mormed by the methodology of Riegl and the 'gay sciencewof Niettsche, to disclose the Germanic soul (as 'will co form") latent in Gothic form and space, for in art the 'form-creating categories of the soul are the real problem to be investigated."39 However. where Goethe, Panofsky, Otto von Simson and others discern a rational expression of harmonie and organic order conforming to a classical aesthedc. Worringer observes what he calls the impulse to abstraction. Abstraction. he explains, is the response to a psychological dread of space and the flux of worldy phenomena appeartng therein. In the regularized, crystalline, geometrical and de-organicized line of uprimitivewand 'orientaln ornament. he argues, visual phenomena are distilleci and space is compresseci in what amounts to the consauaion of a stable, etemal and ûanscendental world bearing an affinity with the one that Tirnaeus envisions. uInextricably drawn into the vicissitudes of ephemeral appearances," writes Worringer, 'the sou1 knows hem only one possibiüty, that of creating a world beyond appearance. an absolute. in which it may rest from the agony of the relati~e."~O The origins of the Cothic W to fom." affirms Worringer, are found in thts tendency to abstraction. with its desperate yearning for uredempdon" and udeliverance*from this life of shadowy appearances on earth. However, contrary to what he perceives to be the inanimate, inorganic and Bnite nature of uprimitivewand 'orientalw Une. %othic Une is NI of expression, full of vitality ... a quesdng impulsive movement, a restless acüvity," conveying the soul's passionate desire to be overwhelmed by an infinity of inexplicable and labyrinthine detaillng such that sensuous feeling of form now becomes spiritual experience of space.*l Thus. the impression of the whole of which Goethe spoke so rhetorically may not have been due to 'a thousaad harmonizing details* visible to the eye, but to the ecstatic motion and anxious activity generated by the details as they muslcally define the space of a super- sensible, super-logical rapture wherein we corne face-tu-face with the divine. In the Gothic cathedtal. abstraction has become suffused not only with the energy of Scholasticism on which Panofsky speculated, but also with the mysticism of Meister Eckhart's sermons on the sou1 and Cod (whose almighty presence can now be felt within the soul). It is significant that Worringer was not only an art historian but also a critic of his own time and place, marked as it was by a flurry of avant-garde tendencies amidst world wu, the uprooting of Wllhelminian culture and the displacement of classicai pictures of the world by Relativity theory and modem technology. Having probably discemeci a new will to abstraction (as a way of dealing with the uncertainty of modern experience) in the contemporary art of the Expressionists, Worringer defended this movement for a short time and then announceci iu death upon its supercession by Dada. We cannot be sure about the art that he was looking ac but in the years of the Deutscher Werkbund and the Bauhaus there were many opportunities for him to descry the signs of a new abstraction. On the cover of the first Bauhaus journal of 1919. Worringer might have seen Lyonel Feininger's fantastic woodcut entitled 'The Cathedra of Sociaiism." but the sculpture of Kathe Kollwi~and Ernst Barlach, the Gtasarchiteùtur of Bruno Taut and Mies van der Rohe, or the paintings of Paul Klee and Wassily Kandinsky couid have also convinced Worringer of the spirinial revolution in culture prophesied as early as 1912 in a treatise catled Concenzing tlie Spiritual in An. Here, Kandilnsky vehemently rejected the soul-les art of the bourgeois crowd, an art that does not probe beyond material concerns of technique, and therefore fails to becorne self-reflecdve:

The night of the spirit falls more and more darkly.... The question 'what?" disappears from arc only the questîon 'howfn remains. By what method are these material objects to be reprdduced? The word becornes a creed. Art has lost her sou^^^

The author of these disturbing Iines vennved to counter the spirituaily corrupt art of his own thne by sincerely questionhg the purpose of art after the death of Gd. Advocathg the emancipation of art from conventional technique and composition. he spoke of an 'Innerer KImf or LMer harmony of the soul that art (specificaliy painting) can echo in its use of color or timbre, its essenaal matter. At the outset of the twentieth century, therefore, we are again presented with a theory of the relationship between an and wfiat Goethe calleci the 'music of the souLw Kandinsky writes: 'The artist is the hand which plays. touching one key or another. to cause vibrations in the soul?3 Before 1 Iwcondusions about the meanhg of Kandinsky's vision of the modem artist (informeci as it is by the contemporary Weltanschauung Worringer defineci in his defense of Expressionsim) in relation to UbeJkind's work, 1 would Uke to recall what 1 said earlier about architechual design as a pmduct of an Aristoteiian humlnirm now complementing the Platonic theory of the cosmos. For, during the Renaissance, measure and proportion are redefined on the bais of the hurnan form (as weil as the cosmos), albeit this is a perfect and artifidal form rather than one found in the reality of the everyday,

5. me winds are dry and melancboiy aLIs the void of anatomy 44

Against the hutnanist tradition of design wherein the building is conceived as an anthropomorphic miaocosm whose appearaiice varies in place and thne but whose structure nevertheless always accommodates the form and functions of the human body, Libeskind responds with an architecwe whose corporeal image has been stretched and elongated, bent, punctured and partiy c~iiswmbered.~sIn the Milan Triennale Project of 1986, the statement for which provided me with a few appropriate words for the title to this section, LibeJWnd constxucted an assemblage of suspendecl and contorted planes of perforated sheet metal and other materials, shot through and rendered impassable by innumerable bars and rods on the horizontal and diagonal. Called House Without Walls, architecture becornes completely disengageci from the necessity of function in this project, as it does in the recent installations of Shusaku Arakawa and Madeline Gins.46 Architecture bears a crisis in which 'melancholy fiils the void of anatomy." Libeskind refiects on this emptineu, albeit somewhat too cursorily, as it bears upon the semantic presence of architecture in our lives: Sand falling silendy into towiers. Ever since the decisive events of the Reformation and Protest which resulted in the reinterpretation of the soul, Architecture has ken doorneci. in this devolution, lts fom as well as meaning has been gradually hollowed out; it has lost substantial participation in the reality which it syrnbolizes. We are witness to the events in whfch the Architecture of presence mrns into the Architecture of ab~ence.~

The wrds are similar to Kanmsbut not as despondent According to Libeskind, we can either lament the situadon brought about by the ideological enfiaming of architecture under the sign of an Edightenment humanism or we can acknowîedge the absence or dissolution of a cornmon ground and bear wlmess to the freedoms now at hand. If architecture, metaphorically speaking. has been interpreted in the past (perhaps since the time of Leon Battista Alberti) as the house of the SOI& then in this project the sou1 is no longer sheltered but exposed to the winds, open to assault by the weather of our mes, or perhaps in flight from all interpretations. Has it seeped through the walls or evaporated in the 'dry windsw of the ether? We can only speculate, but the humanist attempt to house the sou1 within man himseif (may the reader forgive the gendering of this dixussion, as it reflects a tradition that was rather indiffere~lttowards wman,t) is surely exposed as an immodest faliacy by current criticisms of our received ideas of identiry and selfhd, of which Libeskind is cenainly cognizant In order to understand the theoretical implicadons of his research for this subject more profouncily. we should now consider the way in which he re-invented collage and architectural draftsmanship during the 1970s and the early 1980s in an effort to approach his discipline from a diffesent perspective than that forced on most apprentices by an institucionalixeâ paradigm. Only then wii3 we be in a position to return to the path from which we deviateci after our shon and incomplete description of the jewish extension to the Berïin museum. A suite of drawings from 1981 is particularly reveaiing In this context, for its title - Ana tomMelancholy - immediately discloses the rdevance of the drawings for this section. The melaacholy of which the title speaks, if 1 may interpret it, is one that affiicts much thinking about architecture at present And 1 wuld attribute it to the mouming of an architecturai body that was once one and whole, symmemcal and beautifid, immutable and universal For in Ubeskind's drawings, it is as if the Vitnivian man presiding over tradiDion is incriminateci in a disgorging spectacle of amorphous frenzy and the quasi-intestinal growth of an hailucinating and vaguely perceptible imagery. Driven by the irrational momentum of fantasy and ciream. these architectural drawings poruay a psychical corporeality of chimeric proporrions. The reader might be perplexeci by this description, as there is no actual body to be found in these cirawings; but perhaps it has been tumed insideout such that the labyrinthine guts of its interior are visualized in an architectonic but fleshy plethora of abstraction and symb0iism.~8 Now that the void within architecture has been exposeci. it is time to contemplate the interior madness of its delusions and dreams. Ossiflcadon(fig. 7), for instance, pictures a cornucopia of art historical codes. abstract signifiers and uncanny allegorical details: tree-trunks, vegetation, bodies, decapltated heads. swinghg arms, disembodied hands, bird- wings, protractors, open doors, brick walls, gadgets. mmcated columns, curtains, arabesques and grotesques. etcetera The relationship of each of these pam to the image as a whole is complicated such that the synthetic operations of eye and mind are virtually rendered impossible. It is as if our body has been lnscribed in the drawing, our retina siiced open by a razor whose incision marks an axonomeplc or prismatic explosion of vision. Beiow the drawing the draftsman writes: "The Master of Magliano Larnents the Prophecy of Euclid." Unfamiliar with Libeskind's esoteric reference to Euclid's prophecy. the only thing we can declare for certain is that this drawing is no longer govemed by the geometrical propositions of that anaent Greek mathematiciaa. Instead. the space of this drawing is openeci up by the jagged cubism of Marcel Duchamp's snidies of a Nude Descezzding a Staircase. then fused with a surrealist automatism or apocalyptic fantasy reminiscent of the Mghtfui cireanscapes of Hieronymus Bosch We will remember that Libeskind's drawing is calied Ossiffcation. Ossification cm be defined as a process whereby systems and patterns are established and rigidly ccxiifîed. Hmver, there is no order in t&is drawiag; rather. 1 suspect that the proceu of becombg. intimated in its imagery, is what should be counted most signitlcant. This is confimed once we consider that ossification can also refer to the hardening of cartiiage into bone that happens in a prenatal state when the body has not yet been given concrete form. when it subsists without a skefetal smture and corresponds to a state of mutabiiity. if the ideal body has served as a modei for architecture in the pas& it has negiected the elementary reaîity that bodies are always on the verge of birrh, growth, metamorphosis and decay. Having said that, the endiess details comprising Libeskind's drawing seemingly grow, evolve or arise architectonically out of what appears to be the abbreviated form of an aedicule or bower in the lower left-hand corner of the page. This bower can be interpreted as a reference to the mythicaî origins of architecture as portrayeci in an etching by Abbe Marc-Antoine Laugier included in his Essai sur l'architecture of 1753. Indeed, there is no denying that Libeskind's work. while appearing innovative and experimental, is rather an essay in interrogating anew the origins of his discipline after the disappearance of 'An Architecture of presence." 1 wiil remto this point later, but here 1 th.ink it would be more fruitfui to cali upon the work of Jennifer Bloomer, &ose 1992 installation endtled Tabbks of Bo- Ukewise deconstnica, through collage, the presence of an ageold physiognomic ideal in architechire. Intendeci as a prototype for temporary shelters parasiticdy appended to the walls of unwelcorning Chicago office buildings. Bloomer's bower is a structure based on a collage of textual signifiers. Its design emerged as a %b with 5 major interconnecting nodes: colon, fire, cow, temple and Dora," the construction of which included thirteen materiai components: a 'cowslabW; cowhide; cornerstone; a maple 'fiame; tabby columns; 'Tower of Babel" columns; capitals; a udory-shapedw door; a V-shaped transom; ribs and straps; a mantle; a piumb bob; and a centerlinea4gAs the etynrologies of these 'nodes" are semanticaily excavated, words are perceived as 'material constructions suggesoing a metbodology for assembling architectural materialwsO But in the process of excavatïng the meanings of those nodal words, meaning is rendered indeterminate, and BIoomer's construction becomes a woven assemblage of details displacing the classical hierarchy between the signifled and the signifier, the whole and the part, structure and ornament, exterior and interior, king and becoming, funcdon and form, and matter and soul. For an architecture of flows folds such duaiides iato each other. such that, for instance, the sou1 is no longer perceived as a radonal fonn-giving intelligence imposing order on chaotic matter but as king whoUy irnpiicated in the materiai, or rather irnmaterial, flows of king in the becomlng. Renvning to Libeskind's drawing, we are confronted with an image that simiiarly yields what Bloomer might caii a 'rnessy assemblage of flows," both immaterial (semantic) and material (bacMy), uadermlning the anthro- pomorphic image of a wh01e and containeci architectural body derived from the ostensibly determinate proportions of male anatomy.si The soul, no longer a uanscendental category, now reveals itself within the outbreaks, channels, inflections, transformations and ternitnations of those flows. About a later set of drawings by Libeskind. the architect John Hejduk has said: "Libeskind

silences a& we see the very soul."s2 In Anatomy's Melaacholy, ah,we are made speechiess before a plethora of symboiic modfs and allegorical details loosely woven or fastened together and yet flowing apaxt in a wildly irrational collage complicating any Musions of depth with the flamess of its abstract and architectonic traits. Because each ftiigmentary detail is always on the verge of change, it radicaüy questions the conventional idea that architecture (including the architectural drawing) is a paradigm of stability and presence in the here and now. The details of the drawing, moreove-,do not figure what we have hitherto understocxi to be a relationship of harmony and consonance; but Qis does not predude the possibiiity for a 'music of the souLw

6. Primordiai whorfs smun&g the braiii ... stiuzulating the ear of reeired Mollysri4

The many facades of Ubesldnd's Jewlsh extension, as they begh to appear one at a the around the corner of the Berlin museum whüe walktng south dong

ïhdenstrasse, obiige us to abandon OUT desire for a refiecdon of order, or what Goethe might caîl a 'thousand harmonizing details." ïnstead. we may express awe before a thousand disjunctive derails whose presence in the walls of the extension seem arbitrary. even chotic and disorienting. These details are the windows of the extension, perhaps a negative of the detaiî. For the zinc skin of the buiîding is punctured by precisely one thousand-and-five apertures, branded with the architect's signature markings, seemingly bunit through to the interior spaces Uke stïgmadc scars recoiiecüng a violence that must not be f~rgotten.~~These almost hierogiyphic marks - diamonds, crosses, triangles, arrows, rectangles, parailelograms, and diagonal lines - are iike deep dark incisions in the indusaial cladding, contrasting with the paiing luminous sheen of the metairic surface. On the interior (fig. 8). the reciprocal effect of chips. beams and rings of light breaking in upon the shadowy corridors and exhibition spaces rnay be observed. The effect is theaaical. almost Baroque, even 'reminixent of early German modernist film" according to one critic.ss in the space of the interior. one might venture to hypothesize that a new music of dissonance. silent and poetic. is written via the interaction of light, shadow, and spatial partitions. ïndeed, lnleial snidies of the windows are aLÏa to avant-garde musical x0res.~6 This should not be surprising, as Libeskind had studied music in Israel before devotlng himseif to architecture, enroîîing first at the Cooper Union in New York and then continuing with a Masters âegree in theory at the University of Essex in Fagland. In addition, a Monysian series of drawings produced in 1983 and entitiai Chamber Works - to be examined in the next section - further warrants that this earlier prediiection for the musical has not been shoved into the past like some forgotten drûam. Inaudible Wre the third act of Schoenberg's Moses and Aamn, which as we shaU see later inspired the architect's design of the extension, the luminous music with its accompanying intervals of darkness can only be heard by the soul. As such, it couid be said that for those with ean for silence (in the sense John Cage Intendeci), the architecture itself becornes a residue, a negative. or an index of what is dtimately more important: the shape of the soul. Light transfigures the dark matter of the physical world: matter becornes immaterial Lüce the soul. Paraphrashg Ludwig Wittgenstein, Heidegger and others, I would say that because ïanguage is endlesdy subject to what Demda cails differance, we will nwer be able to express what is most important in life. and it might follow that we wüi never have the material means to represent important matters in art and architecture either - though we can try to render the invisible visible, as did the medieval architects and artisans wMe building and decorating their own grand smictures and monuments. in his museum extension. Libeskind has clearly struggled with this irresolvable paradox of the invisible. reconciling an institution of display with a concem for the spiritual. Disrupting the homogeneity of the barren white walls, niining the ideal of a neutrai exhibition space, are rays of white light and contrasting shadom creating an assemblage of spaces that are almost anti-rnuseological in nat~re.5~For the definition of a museum has been pushed to the Wts of propriety, if not displaced altogether by this edifïce that aggressively activates rather than officiously presents space. Indeed. the extension momentarily suspends funcdonal and programmatic considerations so to deway for 'a spirirual space revealed by the removal of objective carcasses."S8 Light and shadow do aot simply AU space but expose it to fragmentation, infiection and continuous becoming. Space is subject to a permanent cleaving that transforms the waLls, floors and ceilings by day. While figure 9 conveys an instant of this process, a theoretical (albeit elliptical) assertion by the architect foregrounds this observation: 'Space Is in the plural (if it were One the sou1 would cru~llplelike ai~..)."59 The rhythmic fissures, dits and gaps of light, meproducing a disorienthg Mect on the spectator from outside the walls, render the surfaces slightiy diaphanous on the interior, making way for the invisible and the unpresentable. According to Libeskind, the lines of axes generatîng the ground-plan of his Jewish extension were mapped onto the walls in an abbreviated and non- representationai fashion during the design of the ünear-shaped ~indows.~O This recalls how the geometry of the Cothic pian harmoaiously determined all the measures and proportions of a Cathedral's devation. And if Libeskind's building were continuously analyzed in this marner it might disclose a profound spiritual affinity with the Gothic, though it wilî never be said that it embodies a blatant reîigious dogma. Despite ali cornparison with the Gothic, therefore. the windom of the extension are by no means similar to those found in the clerestory or façade of a cathedral. Rather. they demonstrate a naiveté insofar as they ignore tradition. and are primordial insofar as they reflect the idea of a window as a mere opening in the wall. Windows have rarely been the subject of such rigorous experimentation; Ught has never been used to define such a rnultivectoral space. The spirinially inclineci work of Mies van der Rohe. Le Corbusier, Louis 1. Kahn, Car10 Scarpa, Jern Ueon and others often demonstrates an interest in the memphysicai property of Ught in modern architecture, but the gïeam of Ught has been ungraciously neglected by aii but a few contemporary architects. Perhaps this is why Ubeskind qwtes Heraclitus: 'A gleam of iight is the dry sou& wisest and bestW6l With this description of the detalling (in conjunction with what I have said about the physiognomy of the structure in general). wherein symmetry and measure falter and dissonance appears to supplaat the harmony of parts to whole, we come to a realllation: that it is almost certain that somethiag has come to an end, that a paradigm shift has taken place, that our world is no longer govemed by a Pythagorean-Euclidean geometry. a Platonic cosmology or a Newtonian naturd physics. On the horizon. we begin to see the Are of a new cosmology or more essentiai mode of reckoning with the universe, bringing with it an intimation of the sou1 that is not so much an understanding as an awakening for the West.

7. On the equator a sha~etedcamera begins to mdt

'Yeu will not And out the Mts of the sou1 (psyche),"declares Heraclitus, uby going, even if you travel over every way, so deep is its report (logos)."63 What does it matter, then, that the jewish extension occupies 12 000 square metres of Land. for the invisible remaias lmmeasurable and the psyche unfathomable? I have mentioned Heraclitus on a number of occasions already. and it now remains for me to explain why. Hls words have come down to us in mere taners, quoted, misquoted and paraphrasai by philosophers, cheologians and scholars aiilce, îiving between dassical antiquity and the late mediwai period. Together. these textuai fragments are supposed to comprise one of the first intelligent cosmologies before Platonisrn overshadows aLi previous thought. Libesldnd's interest in Heraclihis, then. is surely not as a philosophical alternative to the Platonic tradition in the West but as a thematic locus at which one might pivot benveen the metaphysical and the 'no-longern or not-ye t" metaphy~icai.6~ In this section 1 would iike to consider Libeskind's series of drawings calleci Cbamber Works: Architectural Meditadons on Themes MmHeracfirus (Rg. 10). What are these themes on which LibesWnd is meditating at this moment in his carets? Sou1 and selfhood, existence and destiny, harmony and order, space and the, auth and the divine, the infinite and the miversai are some of the riddles that Heraciims grapples with. And through diligent meditation of his own, Libeskind withdraws from the Socratic and humadst traditions that have hftherto dominatecl architecture, so as to uncover a more essential and original vision that might be found in pre-Socratics such as HeracUtus. Otherwise, what wuld make these drawings meditative? Although 1 canaot deal with every riddle named above, 1 shail do my best to demonstrate how the drawings become meditative with respect to architecture. Like the unfathomable ground in the collage for the Jewish extension, Chamber Worh record the interminable space-the of a fienzy of Unes. This can also be said about the suite of drawings from 1981. Micmmegas (fig. 1l), inspireci by Voltaire's story in which Micromegas, a 120 000 feet tall resident of Sirius, with his 6 000 feet cornpanion from Sam, embarks on a journey to the earth whereupon he accidentally mets the lnflnitesirnal creatures who caU theeshumans. iaughing at the daim that they occupy the center of the univene, Micromegas doubts that these minute spedmens of Me can even embody a soul; and when he questions th& understanding of the sou1 he is perplexed by the diversity of conflicdng accounts, none of which seem adequate. Thus. 1 suppose that the tm, sets of drawings are an index of the elusive depths and lmmeasurable limits of the soul inhiited by the minds of Heraclitus and Voltaire. However, whereas the lines of Mlcromegas are spaight, angular and mechanical. they now becorne musical, curvilinear and Monysian in Chamber Work ïndeed, they are musical iike the motions and rhythms of the cosmos, remincihg us of Kandinsky's reflections on abstract painting and the spiritual, Worringer's theory of Gothic space, or Goethe's intoxicating encounter with the Strasbourg Cathedral, even Friedrich Nietzsche's discussion of the ecstadc Dionysian artistic urge that razes atl the artificial walls man has erected between himself and the ocber (i.e., his neighbors, nature itself, etcetefa) in a musical expression of 'primordial mity.'- The cardboard case in which the Cbamber Workr appear is thin, square and black, the size of an album cover - as if devised to hold a recording of chamber music. But as it contas nothiiig audible, we are confronteci with a 'frozen musicn that is very foreign to what Goethe and Arthur Schopenhauer heatd under that figure of speech. Inside are twenty-eight square sheets of paper supporting drawings that suggest a sequena unfolding of imagery. but the notion of a beginning and an end has been abandoneci. Rather, the images seem to correspond with a secret numerology. Moreover. one wiU be surpriseci by the uselessness of these drawings, dumbfounded by a total ignorance or indifference in face of the classical purity of architectural draftsmanship. Abstract and non-objeccive, these drawings are experimental scores for the coaductor of a new architecture, but we must doubt their legibiüty and remember that Libeskind always seeks to counter the means- ends rationaiity impUdt in the architectural dx-awing and its tradition. The Brst fourteen plates are uhorizontalwdrawings; that is, the width of their frames is longer than theh height. Turning the sheets over froxn one image to the next, the length of the mesremains the same, but the height is progressively collapsed such that the fourteenth drawing is almost a mere horizontal stretch of lmploded vecton. The subsequent fourteen drawings. comprishg the second half of the ensemble, are uverdçaiwhames that follow the same sequence, meanLog that the last drawing is vimially a thin vertical column. h the compression of the drawing on the vertical and horizontal, the enclosing white space of emptiness begins to assume more and more significance. in these drawfngs, the window of perspecdval vision is &ut, the glass having been shattered by the cacophony of fantastic but inaudible notes; the shards and remains of a human camera are cast into disarray, aad our visual orientation ia the world (defineci during the Renaissance as a window through which we safely view and master our surrou~1dings)is demystifled as something that has been substandated by spurious constructs of reason. in the words of the architecturai historian Kurt Forster, these Wrawiags submit to a continuous anamorphosis, vanishing into unfathomable depth or advandng and flmdhg our field of visionP6 Since the early twentieth century, painters, photographers and sculptors have sought to displace the institution of vision referreâ to above, but in the reaim of architecture it has remainecl even in the face of radical experiments by the avant-garde. Peter Eisenman has made this point clear; and if bis theoreclcal statements correspond to his designs, in his own architecture of shifted grids, excavated histories and folding planes, he seeks to overcome the anthropocentric or umonocular" vision left unchecked by modernismP7 if anything is deconsmscted in the architecture of Libeskind, Eiseaman and others. therefore, it is vision; more predsety, it is the pardcular relationship between vision and thought. as they are mediateci by the preseace of architecture, that is subject to dissociation and critique. We WUrecail aiat it is a theory of vision (manifest in an architecniral order founded upon the Renaissance invention of Wear perspective) that has susminecl an antique cosmology and a cornforthg humanism until now. In the finai analysfs, therefore, it is not simply the precarious order. the jagged fom, the spiiced fragments or the neo-constnictivist style of the designs that render them uDeconsbructivist" but rather the way they interrogate our visual lines of perception and cognitive frames of perspectivePa By questioning our understanding of what constitutes horizontallty. vertfcality, surface, depth, Une and InRnity, Libesldnd initiates a displacement of umonocularw vision as a way of reckoning with the angst-inducing forxnlessness of space, but he does not faîsely parade the liberation of matter from the hegemony of form. More to the point, his drawings (including Anatomy's Melancholy and Micromegas) obîige us to reformutate our position with respect to the universe at the end of modernity. Neither the sou1 nor the cosmos are measurable or traversible, for both reallze theh existence only in a state of eternîl becoming. and as such theh terrain is always elusive. In 'Symbol and Interpretation," an essay of 1978, Libeskind presumptuously implied that thoughtful questioning about the cosmos si& down after Plato. Contrary to academlc instruction then, the architect opposes design that is founded on a one-dimensional concept of reality and suggests an emancipating altemative:

We can wonder whether the world has ken created once and for ail: whether out duty lies in reproducing according to the models of obj-t, order and type, handed to us by a binding authority. We can deup seriously our own experience, that architecture (like man) is unfinishable and pennanently deferred, that it has no nature, that its tradition is an ment, a happening in which we are inextricably caught69 8. Poor Pascal with hi3 calculator pkying a dirge for iaAnite space70 if architects have assumed their practice to be groudeci in the certainty of the earth at their feet rather than the turbulent seas of the ether, even after the scientific verifIcaion of a heiiocentric universe, then Libeskind's work is a powerfui critique of that assumption. The infinite terrain of the soul, of which Heraditus speairs, uitimately poses the question of boundleu space, and of whether the cosmos can sustain order and harmony in the face of this dark infïnity. So too do Libeskind's drawings and designs provoke contemplation of such riddles. But he is not the only ardst who has meditated on those riddler In this section. 1 would lîke to update my research with a mention of artistic activity in the early twentieth centusr; and 1 would Ulre to do that against the backdrop of modem physics, a domaln of inquls, that has not left the sou1 untoucheci in our time. As 1 have already suggested in my discussion of Plato's Tirnaeus, Euciidean or three-dtmensional geometry was previously undentood to be a priori, the one and only geometry that could be used to give us a mthful pictwe of the world. This axiomatic ciiche was left virtuaïly unchecked throughout history. Since the 1820s, however, mathematicians and scientists such as Karl Friedrich Gauss, Nikolai Ivariovich Lobachevsky. Janos Bolyai. Georg Friedrich Bernhard Riemann and others have been theorking a non- Euclidean geornetq~~lTheories of non-Euciideaa geometry were foUowed by the emergence of n-dimensional geometries and finaiiy Aibert Einstein's notion of the space-time continuum where time is posited as relative to space, and therefore conceiveci in terms of the fowth dimension. Artists of the earïy twentieth cenhiry such as Duchamp, Picasso, Lissitzky and the FuMsts were not ignorant on this subject; and they sometimes resorted, in v-g degrees, to these theories Ln an effort to destabiîize a Eurocentric convention of perspectival vision and attain what we might see as a more uprimitivistw expression. Portrayeci by the French mathematidan Henri Poincare to be a mere tool of convenience, it could be argued that geometry was now on its deathbed72 But it couid be argued that HeracUnis had the same hsight as Poincare over two thousand years ago when he said: 'Pythagoras was the prince of imposters. "' The artistic ramifications of the death of geometry can be noticed in much cwentieth-cenhuy art. but Barnett Newman's Deaoh of Eucffd (1947) is most iiteral in this respect This architect of space-me, in conjunction with men such as Mies van der Rohe, Luis Barragiln, Le Corbusier and buis 1. Kahn, strived to give us an impression of the immeasurable and the absolute in the aftermath of Worid War II.'' What separates their critique of mathematical instnimentaiity from Libeskind's own flair with the immeasurable, though, is their existemial-humanist concern for monumental types and theh maintenance of a Socradc ideal of universai order even in face of relativity, Heisenberg's uncertainty prindple and Kurt GWel's mathematics. Kahn. for example, stresseci the necessity of order in architecturai design, believing that one's psychic feeling for the ImmPasutable Medupon it:

In Feeling is the Psyche. Thought is Feeling and presence of Order. Order, the maker of dl existence, bas No Existence.... The psyche Is expressed by feeling and also thought and I believe wtll alwys be unmeaswable75

It is in the revolutionary visions of the Russian avant-garde, however, that we wimess the first acute effort to grapple with the unmeasurable univene that modem physics elucidates. Kasimir Malevitch's concept of Suprematism in painting, but also in the process of world reconstmcdon in general, is representadve here. His flattenecl and elementary archttectoaic supremes (Unes. squares, rectangîes. circles, and wedges) float in a four- dimensional space whose frame offers no single viewpofnt, but rather an inAnite plurality of these. This work was CO inspire many other arclsts of the dme such as Gustav Kiuds, Nikolai LadovJky and El Lissitzky. ail of whom practiced in more than one medium, Lissitzky. for instance. havhg mhed as an ardiitect at the Wsseldorf academy. experhented variably with painting, collage, photography, typography, installation and theatre set design. The totalizing nature of this sociaily and politically reconstructive Cesamt- kunstwerk 1 believe, is comparable to Ubeskind's denial of autonomy in architectural design, although the latter has certaiPly ken disiïlusioned by the utopian ideology of the Bolshevik eraa76 Nwertheless, one of his Arst monographs is a tribute to the Suprerpatism (and ConsPuctivism) of the early twentieth-century. Called Benveeri Zen> and Inffaify, it features collages and drawings from various portfolios (Collage hscapes, C-e Rebus, The Other Side: lcon and Idea, Ana tomy's Meiancholy, Mcromegas, and Tire Ind ustrious VoM) dating back to the eariy 1970s, all tescifying to the imePinary space that Lissitzky culdvated in his own paintings (what he cded Prous) via an hypothetical construction of imaginary numben such as i, the sqaute root of negative one. With Libeskind's prodigious output of images in mind. 1 would like to quote Lissitzky's refïections on zero and infinicy:

Suprematism has advancd the ultimate tip of the vtsuai pyramid of perspeatve into infinlty. It has broken through the 'blw lampshade of the firmament' For the color of space, it has taken not the single &lue ray of the spectrum, but the whofe unity - the white. Suprematist space may be forxned not only forward hmthe plane but also kkward in depth. If we indlcate the flat surface of the plcnrre as O, we can &scribe the drectton in depth by - (negatiw) and the forward direction by + (positive), or the other way around We see that suprematism has swept away from the plane the illusions of @m-dixnensional planimetric space, the illusions of three- dimensional perspective space, and has created the uldmate illusion of irrational space, wtth its infinite extensibility into the background and fon2gmund77 Libeskind. too, has acknowledged that Eudidean space has been "swept away" by something new or more essenaal. In Benieeil Zero and InAnily. he speaks of the 'end space" where geometry as an ideological protractor delimiting space slips away into the museum of knowledge. Where we once believed we couid master our environs with the technologies of measuring, calCufathg and aloning. there is now only the vague and fugitive memory of a dream and the reaüzation of an awakening in which human king Rn& itself enframed and mastered by those very technologie^.^^ In this awakening, perhaps the very notion of space (i.e., Poor Pascal's Wtespace) as an a priori given, cornes to an end. With this intimation. we will have to ask outselves anew, every time we put our pencil to the paper, "What are the criteria for plaMing and building today?," and more fundamentally, What is architecture?" in his Prouos, I Weve that Lissitzky was asking hixnself these questions, And like the Russian ardst before him, Libeskind also sees his drawings as linterchange stations" between a twodimensional draftsmaa- ship and a four-dimensionai architecture, the nature of which questions the origins and iûnia of building. But the drawings are not so much blueprints of a new architecture, as they are otherworldly satellites for disnipting the causal and hegemonic relationship between drawing and buiiding, and ffluminaclng wfiat remalas absent in the presence of a realized design. It is interesting to note that many of Lissitzky's Prouns have subtitles reminding us of his original invesment ta architecture and urbanism. A painting of 1919 is entitled Proun lA, Bridge t others visuaiiy suggest futuristic towns, shuttüng rockets. floating buildings, and even techno- sdentific satellites. Indeecl, ail of Wizky's expetimeats ultlmately dealt with the issue of wrld feconstmction for the future from an architectural vantage point. Moreover, before Josef Stalin was to incarcerate the experimental culture of the Soviet Union, the rwolutioaary urban proposah of the Russian avant-garde were able to project an alternative vision. albeit not yet clear and practicai, of city planning in the twentieth century. More rurnLog to dixuss the problem of urbanism and the way Ubesldnd responds to it in the present, I would iike to leave the reader with John Hejduk's insightful and poetic musings on the architect's draftsmanship in Be- Zero aad Infinity

Are we looking at the first X-ray of the 'city of the mind? Yes. Our mind- sou1 must look like that.. moments of âensicy moving towards a vanishing point The periphery recordeci In empty gaps. It h wrrisome... mps everywûere ... to fa11 into perpetuai float Thls could be a place where a modem Vlrgil rnight acmmpany a new Dame. They go as voyeurs into the bone-field of abandoned constnictivism... biown dive to haunt the cerebeilwn. Pyramid tops prick mes.. cries of pinioned mathemati~s!!!~9

9. 1 am pdsing the city by spiLUng six phantoms on snows of evident dociutp"

Modernist urban plaMing of a totaiizing nature represents an age-old attempt to impose order, through architechual means. on what our epoch exposeci as the eternai flux and heterogeneity of reality. Of course. the masterplan is by no means novel. but the purpose for which it is employed in more recent history warrants critical attention. Well-known examples of modernist total planning include Tony Garnier's Cite Indurmefle ( 19 17). Moisei Ginzburg 's Green Moscow (1930). Frank Lloyd Wright's Broadacre City (1935). Le Corbusier's many exemplary concepts of the ideal metropoLis, and Lucio Costa's Brasilla ( 1957). Despite the admirable intentions and ambitious deslgns of such architects aad urban plaaaers, many of these projects remaineci on paper, were only partially realized, or counted as faiiures shortly after their reaiizadon. The vast and perhaps allenating space of Brasilla, for Instance. with its concrete rectangular slabs organized dong Costa's monumental axes, leaves one cold and anxious for humanity. In the Berlin CIw Stadtfonun of 1992, the German Nm-malter Wim Wenders compareci the evoived vitality of Berîin's many communal junctions with the emotionaliy barren Brasifia, of which he says the foiiowing:

There was one spot under a rnotarway bridge it MAS the only spare in this large grid of city planning wbere you rediy had a genuine city, where you had communication, where people had a meeting place. And 1 thought, wll, this fs what planning should not be, that penple shouldn't have to creep under the bridges in order to fhd a meeting place.8 l

in the language used by CMstopher Alexander in an essay of 1965, 'A City is Not a Tree," the concepts underlying Brasitia and many of the other projects Usted above end in an 'arcifidal city" whose madei is the tree - because it is the Wear saucture of the tree that can be reduced to an objective system and visualized most easiîy.82 Alexander contrasts the uanificial cityw with the 'naturai dty." the latter of -ch cannot be unequivocaiîy presented because of a constant overlapping of functions, an unceasing maintenance of the infrastructure. and a perpehial defmal of the reguiarizing grid whose space can now be Uened. in my opinion, to the elertronic cosmopoLis of the uWorid Wi& Web." nius, Alexander analyzes the 'naturai dty" in terms of set theory, where the mode1 is the semi-lattice accommodating differences. overlappings, combinations. superbnposidons. disjunctions and change. The point that is being made, if 1 may interpret it on my own ground, is that ail manner of caiculating rationality and rigid organization leads to the forgemess of souk dissociation. estrangement, dienation and in extreme cases. Khirophrenia, preâominate in the %utificM city." It is ironic, therefore, that dty plans such as Brasifia can be seen as desperate reactions against the social upheaval, disjarring relativity and psychological fragmentation characterizhg modemity and ia cides. For in our century, new institutions. industries and social services required alterations in an urban fabric whose space was now to be redesigned for the automobile. Governmenr buildings, museums, factories, Are prevention deparmients. office buildings, tenement housing, power stations. airports, workers' clubs, research centen and similar funcalons radically changecl the face - or shall 1 say the physiognomy - of the dty. This often created a rather arbiaary and dtsorderly amalgamation of buildings, whose modern fom did not appear to harmonize with the preswisting roads, stnictures and other topographicai features of the urban landscape. Hence, the attraction of the idea of a completely modem metropolis, griddeci. sectoreci, orderly, home geneous - totally planned by one individual with artîstic capacities and utopian hopes, cenainly, but Uttle foresight for the problems that humanity always runs hto whenever one person presumes the role of demiurge. It was not long before critiques were iaunched against urban pianning of this Wnd. As early as the 1960s. the more intelligent theorists like Jane Jacobs. Robert Venturi and Christopher Alexander, not to mention radical collecdves such as Archigram. Superstudio and Haus-Rucker-Co. had begun to recognize the undemocratic, even totaiitarian, amiosphere of a city that cenmaîizes government buiidings, regiments human life dong primary and secondary axes of ciinicai precision, and thereby stifies the possibiüdes for growth, change and expansion. The crisis in urban planning thus came to a chax, and some architects reabed that the city was analogous to a Uvhg organism rather than a radonal machine, more akin to a work of art in the process of becomlPg and not a concrete distillation of an eternaliy perfect utopia extractecl from Phto's Rep ublic. And yet, even today there are govemments and planners who advocate such totalizing schemes for dties in wbich late capitalism is to be comfortably accornodated in rom of monotonous skyscrapers. The former East Berlin, according to sorne. is one such city that has been prostituted to this ideology. Undergoing largescale demoiition and reconscniction at present. Berlin is in danger of a certain kiad of planning. Hence, the anxiety surrounding the words of Wenders and other voices heard at the Berlia City Staddum: Akita Asada. Kurt Forster and Jacques Denida. AU agree that Berlin mut maintain its network of juncnues. mcongested spaces and open parameten if it is to remairi a spirituai focus of the world This exited womy is also to be found in the writings of architects working or participadng in cornpetitions for Berb at present. Libeskind's critical reactions to the recent dedsions of plamers and juries is just one instance of thisP3 In a discussion of his designs for Alexanderplatz, Libeskind attacked the idea of total plauning that dested iwlf in Hans Kollhof's award-winning masterplan. Koiihofs model, designed in coliabo~ationvvith Helga Timm-, exhibits a nearly complete erasure of the former DDR architecture chat Ubeskind desired to defend, not so much for ideological reasons as for the sake of the people whose Uves are rooted in a partidar architectural and historical ma- that cannot be irresponsibly expunged and forgotten. In Koiihof s pian. the nlneteenth-centwy Rathaus of Schinlcel, the television tom, and the subway station remain intact; but the Forum Hotel, tenement housing for thousands of people, Street shops, markets and shopping plazas (Le., Kaufhof, Harde) have aU been levded to make way for a rational grouping of stepped granite skyscrapers in the maMer of Raymond Hood's corporate buiidings in New York. Instead of widespread desnolition and the uhopelesswconstruction of stylistically mundane skyscrapers laid out on a Cartesian grid. Libeskind advocated a more humble but no less ambitious project He was to attend to the needs of the people, working with the edsting streets and smctures of the site in an enon to keep the memory of the sodal and political segregation of East Berlin's old center present, while simultaneously improving the iife of its inhabitants whom he consulted during the design process. In defiance of what he perceives to be a 'caU to order" in presait Berlin planning, he States:

The city is the greatest artistic and spititual creation of human beings. It is a coilective work which exists not only In space but in tirne. Its structure is intrinslcally rnysterious.... I have tried to propose an alternative a> the whole notion of the masterplan with its Impiied idea of totality, of findity .... 1 propose instead a process which reinforces the structure of change in a heterogeneous, pluralfstic and diverse architecture, In a democradc soclety, one should acknowledge that architecture will reRect very different, and sometimes codlicdng views of the wrtd-.. It 1s an approach which mats the city as an evobing poedc and unpRdktabk mucturer4

If plamers of the past neglected the complex temporaiity virtualïy inseparable from urban spaces. then in our times any intervention into the fabric of the dty requires, not only a future-oriented imagination and desire to concretize what Mies van der Rohe calleci the W of the epoch," but an equaily profound culdvation of historical consciousness. Unforrunately. the latter has recently ken confused with a unostalgic historicism" represented by various tendendes (contextuallsm, Palladian d;usidsm, Pop eclectidsm and revivaiism) of the 1970s and 19805, sometimes conveniently grouped under the title of pst-modemist architecture. Eschewing the fashionable Lure of pst- modemism, llbeskind is indifferent to such stylistic categories. Rather, his urban pmjecu represent an uncanny contexnialism that Is also evinced in the work of thow associatecl with him, nameiy Rossi, Hejduk and Eisenman. Th& architecture houses phantoms; it is about making visible what is hidden, absent or even repressed in the site once architecture presumptuously imposes itM on the landscape, marking it as a place, and laying claim to or mastery over &denature in and through a stable image or soiid presence Ln the here and now. While this approach to design does not simply permit the geographical and historical nature of the topography to determine the formal and material aspects of the building, it is not bnitish and insensitive to the environment either, as some visiton wili automaticaiiy cornplain upon seeing it. Neither passive with respect to its surroundings nor concerneci with a perceivable harmony, this hybrid urbanisn seeh the singularity of the uunborn,n that is, what arrives in the future as new modes of formal configuration and invisible harmony but which is atways aîready latent in the present and hauts us from the past.85 In space and me, the architecture is an extension of the city's physiognomy. And for Ubeskind. Berlin is the dynamic metropdis in which one caa realize such an urbanism of compledty for the mty-first century. If one danger for BerUn in this epoch of transition is the temptation of imposing a hierarchicai order on the complexity of utban situations. then the other danger that the Berlin Wfy Scaddonrm illuminateci was the pending threat of disorder. Asa&. for instance, noteâ that Berlin, UeTokyo, was a upolycentric" city whose various sectors were susceptible to the violence of fragmentation, dismemberment, isolation and segregation, as in the recent past. Libeskind himseif is acutely consdous of this risk, and indeed his urban plans, not only for Alexanderplatz but for other districts of Berlin as wd(Le., Ober den Linden, 1990: Potsdamerplan, 1991; and the Landsberger AUee/ Rhinstrasse Urban Design project, 1995), struggle with this dilemna, intending to bring the East and the West into a complex and responsible dialectic in the problematic aftermath of reuaiflcation.

10. Finally the wrer itseif can be ad&& to the mind, pmvided that one dœs not rely on the glu&

To comprehend more Mythe significance of Libeskiod's presence in urban theory and design, we W exhibit a particular proposal that rnakes concrete the paradigm shift in cosmology that we have been elucidadng and the 'cal to order" that the architect intends to deconsauct. This is the unreaiized 'City Mgew project of 1987. and it is udocumented" in four cornputer-generated images that he cas Psycho-Cyk.rnedc Pmjecdons of Berlin. One of these projections shows the building in outer space. with what appears to be the

pianet earth in the distance (fig. 12); but we WU1l0t kgin to understand the signitlcance of the montage for our discussion of an architecture of sod until we have paid suffiaent attendon to the origins of the design and the way it was intendeci to appear and function in the metmpolis. In the words of the architect 'City Mgew is, simiiar to the jewish extension, a 'reaiignment of arbitrary points, disconaected and names out of place dong the axis of universal hope."B7 As a horizontal bar grounded in the former territory of 'no-man's land," one end thrusts upward at an angle of about seven degrees on a haphazard arrangement of diagonal pues, some of -ch bend and twirl. Its direction fs southward dong Rot6vei.i- strass, reestabbhing muhial spaces between the East and the West that had been tom asunder or effaced by the wall. As stipulated in the cornpetidon program, the participaaing architect was to reaffinn the connecdon between both sectors, and 1 believe Libeskind has done x, in his own entry. Designed to rise out of the former political wasteland of a once-divided Berlin, this block was to house living units, offices. a nursery, and other communal facilities. while gardas were laid out and ploned dong bes of shadow on the terrain below. Hence, the concept faintly recaiied the dream of a utopian cornmunlty articulatecl by Charles Fourier, Henri Saint-Simon and other politicai -ers at the tum of the nineteenth century. In architecture itself, it was Le Corbusier who provided us with the Rrst prototype for utopian dwelling in his Unité deHabltation of 1953, although his plans to build a number of these collective units in the Usof Marseilles were nwer reaiized. The single horizontal housing block that was consmct& appears to be raised into the air on piiotis, as the 'City Edgewwould have ben, leaving the ground free for spacious gardens. parks and pedestrlan circulation r0utes.~8As for Le Corbusier's vision of utopia - "a utopia with which architecture muid corne to an endw*9- we can condude Qat it was misguideci from the stah Having modelled his Uniré on the structural physiognomy, hinctional organizadon and industriai symbolism of an ocean liner. Le Corbusier created a subïime metaphor for the historical progress of which he felt it was his mission to provide spirituai leadership. Libeskind's design, aithough it aspires towards similar ends (i.e., 'reaieving .Utopia from the pit*O), dœs not mereîy pmpagandize the ideologies and hopes of modemism. Neither a protocype for mass production nor part of a great visionary masterplan, his singular block criticizes the visual order manifest in modemist plaaniag. Le Corbusier's humanistic Modulor system of measure, embodied in the anthropomorphic order of the modern architect's buiidings, is imploded and subverted in the diagonal bar of the 'City Edge," with the irregular and disjunctive lines of fragmentation below picturing the dismemberment of architecturai volumes. For below the bar of the 'City Edge" one wiu find adâitional criss-crossing Wear bars of smaller proportion that interact with the larger block and the gardens to create an unfamiliar space suggestive of the violence that uncannity hauts this urban terrain. Ln opposition to the monumental stability and avant-garde progression that Le Corbusier advocated, Libeskind's architecnual idea expresses ll~lceftaintyin face of the future. UnusuaUy elongated, Libesldnd's bar is stretched over the former site of the J3eriin wall so as to remind us that this city was once the victim of confiicting ideological dreams that divideci a people and resulted in futile enmides and uMecessary deaths. Commenting on the diagonal suspension of the bar, Kun Forster suggests that we begin to see the building as a mutical machine simultaneously sinLing and rising above the horizon.91 Whereas Le Corbusier's housing block fioats on an ocean of verdure. Libeskind's 'City Edgen precariously navigates the boundless waters that diaracterize the inner topography of the sou1 in the age of information. Indeed, the ground of the three models for this project are papier-mâche pdgies brn from the pages of texts such as Joyce's Ulysses. telephone directories and Old Testaments.92 Howwer, the bar is not despondentiy grovelllng in this indeterminate sea of text, but appears to be making efforts to spring upward into the skies on a Monyslan network of pLlotis 'BerUn of open skies," writes Libeskin~î.9~ Rearhing towards the sky, 'City Eûgew recalls the dynamic doud-props conceived by Dutch architect Man Stam and Russian painter El Lissitzky at the outset of the 1920s. Lissitzky's WolkenbOgei, for instance, is a modem skyscraper defying the laws of gravis.. Rotated by ninery degrees according to the compass, it is eievateâ into the heavens WIe some immateriai supreme in lmaginary space. Only the autonomous and universal character of this arcbitecm is foreign to Libesicind's design, which is a singular intervention in the urban fabric of Beriin. Uniike Libeskind. Lissitzky envisioned his projects being reallzed at focal points in Moscow such as Nikitsky square, as is confirmeci by lmking at a photomontage of 1925. Thus, instead of a drawing pasted onto a photograph of a specffic intersection, Libesldnd has made four images that he refen to as Psycho-Cybernetic Projections of BerLin. Each includes a representation of the 'City Edge." but the urban context remaias strikingly unfamiiiar. Unülre Wtzky's Yreaiisdcwphotomontage of an offlce building, the four projections do not daim to represent a potenalal reality. From Libeskind's statement, we know that 'City Mge" was design& for a blodc In the Tiergarten district of BerUn. just southwest of Potsdamerplan: #24 Am Karlsbad (the former address of Mies van der Rohe's Berlin offlce). But from the four projections alone, we could not wen infer that this is Berlin, for in these images the city has become a mi~t~~osrnof the univene, a spatial information ma&. a trope of the imagination - not a new Jewalem but almost cenalnly a place of the psyche. In the Bnt projection. the planet eanh hovers above the bar Uea void hole in the smrry black sky. In the upper right-hand corner, a fragment of one of the three models created for the cornpetidon has ken pasted. Across the bottom, a rectangle frames a diagram of the earth's geographical silhouette on which a cut-out showing a nude Venus has ben overiaid. In keeping with the Dadaist or Surrealist character of his former collages of the late 1970s. LibeicLiad's projections puncture the bounâaries of reason, redefiae the iimits of the souî.

11. Must solitude, LI tum, bedifs iïnk to every pirouetting shard of the expioded ampizora? g4

Snidying Libeskind's urban proposais for Berlin and elsewhere, we might wonder whether his designs are a kaleidoscopic index of metropoiitan chaos, posr-rnodernist pluralism, decentered psychology or even the entropic degeneradon of forms. ïndeed, it would seem that he has made wery Mon in the present capital of Germany to oppose the totallzing dty plans of the head Nazi architect of the war-the period - ALbert Speer - with an architecture of utter disorder. Perhaps llbeskinci has reflected on the gross irony that while Speer was planning a new hierarchically centralized Berlin of heroic proportions and grand boulevards, outfinecl with a Great HalJ and triumphal arch for the Fûhrer, the entire world was plunging into a sorry and embarrassing condition of total chaos, unimaginable horror aiid terrific disorder. So it is not the engineering of Libeskind but history itself that wimesses a confusing reversai of the binary metaphysics of order/dfsorder. WUe it may be true that Libeskind's drawings and models defy a comprehensive perspective with their twisted forms, interlockhg bars and spliced obliques. I wuld argue that the dissonant cornplexity of them is opposed to a unifying homogeneity that is untnithful given the present condition of BerUn. or any cosmopoiis for that matter. hstead. I belleve that his work opens our mind to an ocher harmony not reduîible to vision &ne. for if Heraclitus is to be beiiwed, the "hiciden attunernent (harmonie)is better thaa the obvious one.*S Hence. wbile Libeskind's architecture is not simply a mass of fragmentation. chaos and disorder, its abstract form is also very far removed in style and symbol hmthe simplifled n~lassidsntypical of Karl Friedrich Schinkei's Berlin. For since that grand tradition was appropriated and tumed towards darker ends in a hideous expression of Teutonic superiority during Nazi mie. it now holds a regreaul signifïcance that obiiges any sensitive architect to adopt a critical position vis-à-vis that traâition and the prindples on which it was founded. namely solid monumentaiity and the classical proportion of parts such that an organic expression of order is attained. Ln aiî of his urban projects, Libeskind is careful to navigate between the anarchy of disorder and the impending totalitarian ramifications of its antithesis. He has quoteci Paul Valéry as having said that order and disorder are two ever-present dangers of which to be caudous in ttïought and action.96 Thus. I would council the spectator to suspend her or his judgment of Ubesklnd's pracdce at this moment; for what Is an eye-sore of anomalous disjunctions, convoluted geometries and disjointed planes oniy appears as such because we have probably aiîowed the institution of taste to predetermine what we consider to be whole, perfect and beautifid in the first place. That is. it is only because we have permitted our perception to be retarded and ou perspectives to be narroweâ that we su comprehend hanmony in terms of perspectival closure. Cxiticizing this metaphysics of vision, Meyer Schapiro has argued that in the paintings of Cubists such as Picasso and Expressionists such as Kandinsky, we obtain an intimation of an oc&- harmony, a 'hiddea attunement* lying beyond the vis~al.~~Schapiro crieicizes the aesthetic grounds on which works of art are judged (or misjudged) due to unrefiective and habituai prejudices. Asstuning that there are paintings exhibiting perfect harmony bec~eenthe pans and the whole that nevercheless fail to inspire us, he defends the work whose appearance is seemingly incoherent but that succeeds on the whole in touching us emotionatly and inteiïecMLly. Thus, he defends modem painting against the customary accusation of formlessness and impiies that the sc~alledfraamentary nature of this art rather desus sensitive to the fact that perception nwer gasps the whole, and that there are different Wnds of order for which we can acquire awateness. More recently, Gilies Deleuze has venwed a similar hypothesis in The New Harmony." one of the chapters in hts esay on the architecture of the soul calleci Le Pli, or Tbe Md: Leibniz adthe Barnque. His reflecdons on the fold remlnd us of his earlîer theory of the rhizome in the sense that folding, unfolding, enfolding and refolding talre place in a psychic terrain that is labyrintbine iastead of tadonal and ordered (Le., Descartes), or tree-Uke and architecturai (te., Kant).98 That is, the fold refers to the material fnflections and traiis, the spatio-temporal bifurcations, openings and membranous passages withh psychic space, a space which is not at ail an ordered and systematic Kantian architecture of the faculties. nor somethlng that can be puiïed iato a unity or Hegeîian totaiity of aoy Idnd. This labyrinthine space unfolds difference, Uberates thought from the stricnrres of reason, and enables things hitheno uunbomwto corne to preSeDce. Thus, the spacetime of the fold cannot located within the herie and now it suggests a more cornpiex temporaiity and spatiaïity of being. Giving shape to the complexity of an existence that is without beginning or end, the fold embodies the CO- dependence of such metaphysical oppsites as space and time, the Anite and the infinite, the visible and the invisible, matter and fonn, the sensible and the immaterial, body and soul, order and disorder, etcetera. Architecture and urbanism, seen in chis light, are emaacipated from the hegemony of umonocular" vision. With architecture in mind, and a gesnire toward Mallanne, Deleuze writes: 'We giimpse the visible through the mist as if through the mesh of a veil, following the creases that aïïow us to see stone in the opening of their inflecdons, 'fold after fold,' revealing the city."g9 In the Baroque edifices of Gidorenzo Bernini, Francexo Borromini and Pietro da Cortona, the sculptural iaflections of the physiognomy and ornament subject architecture to a folding obscuriag the artifldal boundaries between interior and exterior, figure and ground, iight and dark, art and architecture, etcetera A diaerent klnd of harmony than that discemeci in the Gothlc cathedral ULLfoIds itself before our eyes; no longer an othenvorldy harmony, it is one of the profane world but no less sacred for that reason. Aithough iibesklnd's architecture is not Baroque in the narrow sense that art history has bestowed upon this historicai and styiistic category, some of his projects nevertheless bear an affinity with the organic energy, dynamic rnathematics, musical ornamentation, formalist complexity and invisible harmony of the Baroque. For instance, the Phflharmonic HaIl of 1995, designed for Bremea, Gennany and to be but in the near future, is an assemblage of rectangular volumes, some of which have been rotated and tilted within each other, or angled upward to break open the waîîs and rweal fractured spaces of the interior to visitors on the outside. The model appears suspended in a complex but musical tension, although the dynamic spatial configuration of forms and their detaUing is nineci to dissonance rather than melody. On a more grand and urban scale, we might consider Libeskind's unrealized proposal for Potsdamerplatz (1991)in Berlin, the model of which is a veritable puzzle or mosaic of sharâs. an 'explocfed amphoram But the Jewish extension. evoking the star-shaped intersections of eighteenth-century Berlin in plan. is the exemplary mode1 of what might be calied the contemporary Baroque. Figure and ground, exterior and interior, form and function, void space and solid mass are convoluted in an architectural event that occurs between the lines: the straight Une of voids and the jagged Une of galleries. In this building, the Baroque is extended fomdin history, not as an artistic style but as a manner of niinldng and creating poeticdiy.

12. Therefore a building Is not just a neuûal shape, but a gift or rem to history'oo

1 have not paid suffident attention to the fart that the Jewish museum is an extension to a pre-existing building. Bdt in 1735 under the guidance of the architect PWpp Gerlach, this Baroque structure housed the KdmdlgIiches Coflegienhaus in the early nineteenth century. it was appropriateci by the supreme court of Russia; in one of its offices the musician and writer E.T.A. Hoffmann practiced law. Before the air raids during World War II were to nearly destroy the building, it fuactioned as *e Royal Protestant Consistory. In the pst-war perioâ, the governent of West Beriin dedded to restore the building to compensate for the loss of the MSLrkisches Museum in the east. Notwfthstanding its ambiguous and tortuous history, the building opened its doon to the public in 1969 as the Beriin Museum for CMc History.Iol The Baroque plan of the museum echoes the shape of a U; the elwation is defiaed by three stories (not induding the basement), the ciassical façade of wbich is symrnetrical and economical in its use of ornament. Exterior gardas exist to the rear, stretching toward Alte Jackobstrasse in the east South of the old city center of Berlin. namely Alexanderplatz, this museum and its new extension are located on Lindenstrasse, at the point where this Street inter- sects the ETA. Hoffnann Promenade leaciing west toward Friedrichstrasse and Wilhelmstrasse. From Lindensûasse, the four-story extension appears on the right-hand side of the old museum, its oblique angles and zinc cladding sharply contrasdng with the adjacent yeliowplastered Baroque building. The area in which we presently Rnd ourseives is Kreuzberg. The extension to the Berlin museum is destined to provide a proper shelter for those hitherto disperseci and homeless artifacts of the Jewish department In the past a number of these obfects, some of which &te back to the middle ages but most of which date to the late-nineteenth and early- twentieth centuries, have been kept in the basements of the Beriin museum and the Martin Gropius Bau nearby. Besides accommodating these relfgiously orienteci arts, crafts and Niosities. Libeskind's extension will also provide exhibition spaces on the upper levels for art of the post-war and contemporary periods, for bis project aims to extend the history of Jewish culture in Beriin right through the 'absolute went" of history (BL 28), not simply to provide an additionai bulldlng of commercial value. Thus, dthough the extension wlll house and display objects presuming to represent Jewish culture, it will not be a passive receptacle. Ultimately, it is more concerneci with the spiritual condition of post-Holocaust humaaity in Berlin and elsewhere, as 1 have already argued in prwious par^ of this essay. Not physicaiiy ~0~eCtedto the old building above ground, moreover, the autonomy of the museum and its extension is preserved by way of a remarkable contrast. While this disjunction appears ungentle to ingenuous eyes. I beiieve that the inaudible dhiogue Libesldnd has inidated with his design WU potentially disclose a new beauty and a new harmony belonging to the spirit of the Baroque. His tortuous structure. therefore, while interpreclng the socio-political history of a geographical ma& of addresses, extends the Baroque style of the old museum into the future. In this sense, it presemes the historicai integrity of the original building rather than attaching onto it ïike some parasidcal supplement. Moreover, if there is an atmospheric gap between the old museum and its extension, it is because the architect knows that the coexisting histories of Jews and Gerxnans in Berlin has been forever ruptured by the Holocaust Libeslciad tells us that he thought very hard about what it might mean to extend the history of Berlin with the history of the Jewish people who were and rem& an integral part of that city's culture: 'How can one extend the history of Berlin," he aslrs, -with the history of that very absoluteneu, that very absolute ending of the history which is implicated in the so-called 'Jewish question'; in the acW physical absence of a Jewish community in Berlin?" (BL 27) In this question, the architect lmplies that something has corne to an end with the Holocaust, not to mention aii chose catastrophes of the tw~tiethcentury that violently ben& siice up, decenter and implode the path of Zeno's arrow, Hegel's spirit, and out consciousness of time In general. into an LnAnity of shards and unoke. This might sound rather presumptuous and overblown, but in fact, much contmversy is currently being generated over the question of history as we approach the dam of a new milienium.

13. The theory is this: to contain the Universe in a last infin.itedmai sound charge by cappiog the West with a non-rwersfble gasketl02

'After dl, history doesn't exist," Libeskind assens. in an interview with Vittorio Magnago Lampugnaai.lo3 Understood as a universai and progressive unfoldhg of events, history is a story that we have weaved In order to conceptuallze the mysterious enigma of the. It is Hegel's phenornenology of spirit that best represents the popular definition of history: a grand narrative of speculadon and emandpation under the guidance of spirit (Gdst). The tnth 1s. however. that thls monolithic narrative, whose writen have always repressed contradictions, differences and complewities. not to mention the inherently iiterary, arbitrar-y and fictional nature of grouping and relating events, is exploded into a mbbish heap of shards when it happens upon catastrophe. if Hegel felt that a collective spirit represeflted progress towards the 'end of history" when absolute knowiedge and the Liberal state would be attained, then Walter Benjamin's portrayal of the 'angel of history" painu an image of the darker side of thts paradislacai teleology

This is how one pictures the angel of hismry. His face is turned tomthe past Where we perceive a clmin of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurts tt in front of his fet The angel wuld like to stay, denthe dead, and make whole what has been srnashed. But a storm b blowing from Paradm it has got caught in his wings with such violence that the angel can no longer close them. This storm Imsisdbly propels him Into the future to which his back 1s tumeci, hile the pile of debris before him grows skywad This storm ts wiiat ~iecal1 progress.104

The bitter wr& are W-iown, perhaps too famillar, but that is oniy because they stiil embody such a potent critique of our vulgar understanding of history, the latter of which contains within it the ridiculous hypotheses of progress and civilization; though perhaps such hypotheses fuel this notion of history in the fint place. Iii either case, this logic founders in a vicious cirde that we have since come to recognize amidst aii the destructive and bloody events of the twentieth century. What Libeskind means when he werts that history does not exist, the., is that a particular definidon presupposing a univocal or universal sequence of events c-ot accommodate the very different and real histories that we aii experience in actuality, In our own convoluted frames of space and dme. History as that subïime narrative and Uterary construction of an idealist metaphysics has come to an end, but not in the way that Hegel envisioned it. For we have neither cultivateci absolute knowledge nor procured the iiberal state, despite what some people feel regarding post-industrial capitallsm in the West.l*s A paradigm shift has profoundly altered the cosmology of the present, surely, but this does not preclude hopes and dreams for a better wrld. Scholars have variably labeled this transformation or sut as one from modemity to pst-modemity. the mechanical to the electronic age, or the epodi of representation to that of a hyper-reality of decenterfng simulations. For other thinken, pst-modernity is not a period but a condition wherein the historicizing tmplicit in the word 'pst-" is itself caiîed hto question. Thus, Lyotard speaks of the fragmentation of Hegel's grand narrative hto 'litfle narrativesn or 'phrasesw no longer constituting a universal whole but a plethora of Merences that perpehially defer consensus and the more crucial realization of a community.lo6 In other words, what Hegel calleci Geist lies in irredeemable fragments. Specialization in the labor force and the shatteriag of knowiedge into separate and confîicting areas of study, combined with a loss of faith in universals dong with those truths we have taken for granted for centuries. exemplifies the post-modern social condition. Accompanying such changes in the social fabric, we And oew conceptions of space. time and causaîity pervadlng the social sciences, partly inspired and supported by advances in modem physics and the nanird sciences. And this, undoubtedly, is what has affected the more responsible theorUing of architecture in our century. Avoiding the confusion generated by the term pos~ftodemism, Libeskind chooses to speak of the 'end of modeniity,n echoing Cianni Vatthno whose wrds share something with Lyotard's own dlscourse.lo7 Ln response to a periodizing historicism, the architect argues that modernity is older than history in generai, because it is actuaily an antique mode of thought and way of reckoning with the world rather than an absmt block of time: 1 think that what has changed is the redizadon that Mdernity was not a period of 10, 20 or 100 years, but that Modernity has been a period of about 3000 years and it is now coming to an end 1 mean the period of enlightened human intellect with reaiity, that great Socratic and pre- Socratic contribution to seeing the world is coming to an end. It will still go on for thousands of years. but fn the spiritual sense one has aiready seen an ernpirical redity, an absolute end to a particular mode of a reladonship to the wrld That made 1 wuId have calleci the mode of reasonable human response to an unreasonable absurdity of the cosmic situation .... After Auschwitz and Hiroshfma, things will no longer be the same, not because we cannot rebuiid the wrld in a betaer way, but because certain experfences and the capacîty of certain experiences cornes to an end (BL 27)

It is the absolute cataswphc of Hiroshima and Auschwitz. thcn, that brings moderaity to an end condition. Contrary to wfiiit Francis Fukuyama has to uy, the end of hisrory is not the culmin;ition of an H~~ di;ilectic of progress

and cmancipadon; WC havc no rcason to rcfoice in the liberal state emboâied in the suspect politics and social lnequity of thc Wcst Nor is this condition of which Libcskhd speaks sfmply apodypdc and millenarianist. In fact. for Libeskind and bis supportive coileagues, thc cnd of history as a condition is

that which WC corne up against every timc WC givc thought to what is absolutely absurd, and thetefore goes beyond or comes before aiï possible reprcsentations or narrations of world history.

14. 7Be Gcaphfc as the sod of Archftectud08

1 believe that the end condition of which Libeskind writes has acqufred an image in a concept sketch for the Jcwish extension (fig. 13). a sketch that docs not determine the final design but one through which that design develops concomitantly with other plans, elevations, collages, models and ideas illumtnating various concepnial facets of thc ncw museum. The sketch depicts a dg-ragging line whose angLing vectors present themselves on either ride of another Une. one whose trajectory is straight and vertical. This snaight Une zips lengthwise down the middle of a space framed like a painting by a rectangular delineation. The space is thereby cut in half. Without the contorted geometry of the first Une, the sketch wold be vaguely reminiscent of Barnen Newman's breakthrough painting of 1948, Onement LL09 Most of US imow the story. Newman appM a piece of masking tape. contemplated his discovery, and there it was, this minimni vertical zip denoting the instant of creation, and yet simply a chromatic presence with a band down the center. And yet, according to the art historian Thomas B. Hess, this painting is an analogical presentation of an absrnt and mysticd idea, nameiy tsh-tsual Io In the Jewish faith, thfs expression refers to the creation of a wrld out of chaos or nothingness. the beginning of the as an instaataneous flash setting werything in motion. Gd, an invisible abstraction, is understaai as with- dram from the world and occupying the aans~endentalrealm of the absolute. For Hess. this is the uldmate subject matter of Newman's paindngs. Nothing else cm hold so much meaning, and yet displace it altogether, at a snoke, as irreîwant in face of the void. Lyotard, in a stmilar vein of speculation, has reflected upon Newman's paindngs as events of a sublime presence. l1* In the Nvllight of metaphysicai specuiation, we must ask: What is this presence? Rom the introduction to this essay, we WUrecaii that the philosopher suggests that presence is an occurrence or event announdng simply that ehere is before aii knowiedge of what there is. Newman applied the tape and it happeneci, there it was. this discovery. an went for which we have no sequential slot nor name; 'The Laadscape of the soui becoming nameless," Libeskind writes, reflecdng on Us own intentions in architecture.li2 Simply a flash. a painting by Newman reveals how an instant of chromatic presence can become analogous to the instamt of primai creation: rsim-tsum. More concretely, presence as presented in a paintlng by Newman is an interrogation of art's origins and claim to meaning. Responding in Une and color to the question he asks himself, uWhat is painting?," Newman demonstrates that it is an act of creation, a division of light, an envelopment in space, always a process testifmg to the absence or elusiveness of meaaing. the self and wen Goci. We now arrive at the foiiowing question: can architecture Ukewise attain presence and provoke the mind to Yjumpintow soul? 1 beliwe that it can, if it seeks to deconsmact its ideologies, question la foundations, and to quote Libeskind, 'bring badc the urgency, the immediacy which must have existed at some point sometime, that violence wbich has to do with breathle~sness.~~~~It would seem that Eknman has indirectly answered this query in the affirmative in hlo own theory of upresentness.wIl4 A gain. this does not refer to the presence of a transparent signifiecl in architecture (i.e., functional dwelling) which has dominated this discipline for ages. Presentness. on the contrary, is consûucted as an auratic potential for art and architecture in the age of electronic information, with its techno-sdentific imperatives and decemering of the subject. Through an intentional mis- reading of the texts of Derrida, whose Heideggerian discourse of 'de- structurlng* is applied to the hegemonic opposition of form and funcdon insdtuted by mdernist architects such as Louis Sullivan and the French Rationaüsts at the nun of the century, Eisenman constructs presenmess as 'an excessive conditionw destabiiizing this architectural and metaphysical binary:

As long as there is a strong bond benmen form and funcdon, sign and king, the excess that contains the possibllity of presentness will be repressed. The need to overcame presence.., the need to break apart the smng bond bewn fom and funcdon, 1s what my architecm addresses In its displacement of the traditional role of function it does not deny that architecture mut fwicdon, but rather suggests that architectum may also function without necessarily symbolizfng that function, that the presentnes of architecture Is irteducibIe to the presence of its hinction or its signs. 1 15

In nearly ail of Esenman's theoretical essays and statements, what has been labelied the pst-structuralist critique of presence, initiateci by Roland Barthes, Demida, Lyotard, Michel Foucault, Jean Baudriliard and others, is gr-&& ont0 the hguage of architecture. Eisenmari's concept of presenmess. therefore, represents a displacement of presence as the correspondence of form to function. in aiat âisplacement, eye and mind are disjohecl, the body is reinscribeci in the architecturai expertence, and the sou1 touched by what Eisenman cails an 'affect of sing~larity."~~~ The dynamic and unsettiing relationship benreen form and fuacdon in Libeskind's design for the Jewish extension surely approximates a condition that cm be Wtened to Elsenman's theory of aichitechual presenmess. 1 have already commented on how the museologicaî function of this buiiciing is held in suspension by a 8faphic discloshg infinity and the soul. This graphic is, of course, the Wteintersection of tvro Unes of orgaaization reveaied in the concept sketch referred to above. On the one hand, there is the invisible axis of voids, and on the other hand, there is the irrational configuration of a broken star inscribed in the zig-zagging form of the visible physiognomy. Not expreuing its contents on the the exterior, Libesicind's architectural design is uexcessive* in cornparison with the international style generaiiy representative of modernism. Tmth in architecture as the correspondence of form and hinction, appearance and id-, structure and meaning, dgnifier and signifiecl, has beea samificd for the opaqueness of poetxy and soul. In piace of functionaiism, therefore, Ubeskind dws not simply substitute a formallsm whose rwts can be located in the overshadoweci architecturai tradition of twentieth-century Expressionism, but presents us with a building thai embodies the spirit of our time, -ch is hardly transparent as the great Mies van der Rohe deshed it to be.

15. ... insane, t&ree dirnepsional star configurations organfzed arotuzd an invisfble axis calleû science or epitaphll7

Echoing Plotinus, St. Augustine. Meister Eckhart and other spectres of meâiwal and mysticai thought, Mies van der Rohe said: 'i3eaut-y is the radiance of truth."i l8 Devoting himself and h& work to the rwelation of such a beauty in the pubiic sphere, he emphasized the strict observance of truth fa materials kg., economy), structure (eg., order) and function (eg., meaning). The manifestation of this nipartire architecturai truth in building was ultimately determined or dictateci by the direction, the demands and the spirit of the present the. For in his mind, architecture was to be a symbol or expression of 'the will of the epochwand not rome forrnalist idiosynaacy mingling with fantasy, illusion and lie. As such. he advocated the withdrawi of individuality hmthe process of design; personai taste and formal innovation were deemed arbitrax-y and subordhate to history and necessis.. Under the spell of an Hegellan Wectic, he mote: 'the buiiding an Is ahvays the spatial expression of spirituai decisions."'lg And yet, in his work it wuld appear that Mies was closer to Nietzsche or Heidegger insofar as he challengeci Hegel's thesis of the end of art, a condition wherein di artistic media lose whatever capacity they had to embody the spirit Returning to Mies van der Rohe's words, I wuid argue that they could have also been wrftten by Ubeskind. ddeed, maay of Libeskind's coilages and threedimensional construcdons memoriaiize and remind us of Mies van der Rohe's spirinial presence in modernity. However, 'the will of the epoch," supposedly fonn-giving with respect to architectural matter, has taken on a dubious tenor today; and so 1 doubt Ubeskind would stU uphold this key principle of the German master's philosophy. For there is no mivocal and clearly defined KunswUe. - to use Alois Riegi's terminology - that we can point to in postmodemity. marked as it is by what Libeskind calîs the end condition The present is not unequivocaliy present to us but is relative to the curve of becoming, subject to an endless deferral dong the space-time continuum. hdeed, in the sketch for the museum extension (to which 1 would now like to remafter having deviated hmthis subject in the previous section), Libesldnd creaies an image in which the present is confronteci with its own end. On the left side of the vertical Une, he scribbles uabsolute futum," and on the right. 'absolute pastw What separates the two faces, the two absolutes, the two eternities, if not a gateway identifieci with the present moment - a point on an infinite Ilne appearing to be straight? When Nietrsche has Zarathustra a& this very same question in his famous parable on etefnal recurrence, the dwarf (otherwise known as the spirit of gravity) mockingly retorts: 'AU that is straight lies... . AU rnith is crooked: time itself is a circle." lZ0 Surely a vulgarization of Zarathustra's abysmai thought, the dwarf is too feeble to will eternal recmence; instead, he belfwes there is no uuth but riihrlism, wfiile Zarathustra knows that truth is not altogether aooked but merely not evident for perception, nor redudble to language or any form of representadon. Nwertheless, in place of aii prwious tmths, Zarathustra offers the doctrine of eternal recurrence, which means that if the absolute past contas absolutely everything chat can have happeneci, then it foiiows that it must also contain the present moment as well, and that the present moment which we presentiy occupy is merely an instance of what has already gone before and what will etemaiiy recur. Nietzsche has said: 'AU 'it was' again becomes an Yt iç' The past bites all that b to corne in the taii." l2' Aad so there is no reality or substance to the present moment, now imagined as the tail of a serpent's body perpetuaîiy suffering the violence of the past As 1 am interpreting a sketch for a building that seems to commemorate and mourn Jewish iife and death in Berlin, the parable of eted recurrence marks the urgency and necessity of Lîbesldnd's intervention in the urban fabric of this city, especialïy agaiast the backdrop of Germany's recent history of unification, rising nationaïism. historical revisionism and a heightened desire in gendto efface the misforrunes and terron of the past in what Jürgen Habermas has caïîed a poiidcal gesnire of normallzation. u2 As a metaphor for the shanered narrative of history, the 'fragmentation within the scheme [of the extension]," says Libeskind, 'is a ldad of spacing or separation brought about by the history of Berlin, a phenomenon whlch can only be experienced as the eff&t of the, and at the same thne as the temporal fulllllment of what is no longer there." (BL 28) What is no longer there is the spirituai meaaing and cuïture of 'an avant-garde of humanity... that has ken incinerated in its own history, in the Holocaust." (BL 29) However, the architect is not merely emblematizing the repetition of tragedy (whether it is now happening in the developing coutries or in the West) in an architecture of tragic overtones, but urglng us to become a 'guarâian night watch... over absent and future possible meaning," (BI 28) over events yet to happen making our Uves meaningful or minous. When we consider the other spatio-temporal âimension that compiicates Libeskind's sketch for the Jewish extension, the relevance of Nietzsche's doctrine of eternal recurrence becomes even more tangible. I am referring to what the architect caîis uelsewhere" ('not future, not pastw). The word appean twice, once on each side of the vertical division, in the vicinity of what appears to be tfiree criss-crossing Unes, some of which extend beyond the Umits of the frame. What and where is 'elsewhere?" Perhaps it is that which is obscured by one-dimensional thinking, which suppresses a disorienting heterogeneity of multiple temporal horizons existlng within our conscïousness. For in the soul, which is where St Augustine thought we measured the, cime is not an unbroken Une but an uncertain, asymmetrical and labyrinthine fold (in Deleuze's sense) conceaihg and unconceahg new world horizons - swly a mode1 for the universe in general. This intuidon is liïcely supported today by the tenets of quantum theory.123 Libeskind is surely not ignorant regarding contemprary refletdon on the nature of rime, for his sketch ditdoses an awareness of a critique of the theory of relativity In the ver-language it employs ('absolute past." 'absolute future," and 'elsewhere"). The use of this terminology was probably informeci by Sir A. S. Eddington's explanadon of dme in The Namof the Physicai Wdd( 1932). where a &gram employing the same language was to 'embody what we know of the absolute structure of the world so far as space and time are ~oncemed."l2~We can picture the physidst's diagram as foiiows. There is a point in the center caîied Here-Nov from this point we should imagine the tips of ~uothreedhensional cones. one openhg upward and calleci Absolute Future, the other opening downward and caîïed Absolute Part The purpose of this diagram is to exhibit the framework for events 'of a fourfold order which we can dissect into right or left, behind or in front, above or below, sooner or later."i2s But what we conclude about those events which ûccur in the space outside of the wedges of this X-shaped hour-glass figure, a space that is labelled Absolute Elsewtiere and that îies beyond the reaches of knowiedge? Those events do not exist for us in the Here-Now, claims Eddington, even if they belong to the Absolute Ptesent, because of the velocity of light which affects ou perception of events occurlng elsewhere; hence. along the two diagonal lines of the cone stretching into the Absolute Pas& we cm read Seen-Now. These are the lines along which we wiii perceive the events occurring elsewhere Ln the present, Unes which are not absolute for us but relative to the point Here-Now. Returning to Libeskind's sketch for the Jewfsh extension, which employs Eddington's vocabulary to its own ends, it would seem that the straight Une (which becomes the dîsnipted and 'invisible axisw of voids in the actual building) acts as a hinge between Absolute Past and Absolute Future, categories that may determine what is ewhibited in the gaileries on either dde of the udiscontinuous void." Here and now, crossing over the bridges of the voids in the extension, our presence becomes the experience of an absence recorded in a hallowed epitaph of Innumerable names discerned on the interior walls of the voids - names of Jewish Berliners deported, tortured and murdered during the Holocaust The Here-Now of the udisconctauous voidwis a recurrent horizon, therefore, on which an anamnesis implicates us in the events of the past: The past fatality of the German/Jewish culturai relation," Ubesldnd writes, 'is enacted now in the realm of the invisible." (BL 28) To draw on Eenjamin's thought, one might add that the Holocaust is constructed as 'a past chargeci with the cime of the now which ... lis] blasted out of the continuum of hi~tory.~L26 And here the visitor confronts an emptiness that is aiso inside himself or herself, for the 'void is something whfch every participant wiîl experience as his or her absent presence." (BL 29) Moreover, whUe the criss-crossing Unes of the sketch may project towards an ueisewtiere" relative to the geographical point on which the Berlin museum and its extension appear, thus recalhg the lines co~ecdngpoints of cultural address elsewhere in the city of Berlin, they could aIso prefigure the underground lines of axes in the actual extension leading variably to the Holocaust tower, the BTA Hoffmann garden of emmigradon and exiie. and the maki stahcase openhg onto galleries above ground. If 1 may defer dyses of these three focal points of the Jewish extension for the meanthne. I would hypothesize that 'elsewhereWmight refer to an event in the Absolute ResMt so absolute that it is unassimilable by the hour-glass. though able to be represented in shadowy simulations hgthe Lines of Seen-Now. While the Holocaust historically occurred rnany years ago, for Libeskind it is an elsewizere that is absolutely present as an ment; in fact, it is what he cails "the absolute event of history." (BL 28) This went is 'not future, not past," but outside time and totally 0th- to the progress of history, bringlng history as we have understaxi it to an absolute endtL2' In this end condftlon, whatever spirits that were left of Mies van der Rohe's of the epoch" have evaporated, and we are left with Theodor Adorno's oft-cited question that exposes a hole in the sou1 and an abyss beneath ail forms of creadon and meanlng: How can we create poetry after Auschwitz?

16. But to awaken a race of star bu& in haM-sunk crystals: dlm your eye's labyrinthlne caviry'28

The singular admission to the Jewish extension is not a convendonal dmmy between the exterior and interior, but is arriveci at by flrst entering the Berh museum. The autonomy of the extension that was mentioned earlier is dissolved in this reallzation. Despite the rift between the hM buildings on the outside, Jewish culture in BerUn is not to appear as sesregated but, below the surface of things so to speak, interdependent and interwoven with the history of Gennaa culture itself. Thus, the initial experience of the extension happas ten feet beneath the foundations of the originai building. A 'voided void" has lodged itself hem, hoUaving out a section of the Berlin museum and obliging the engin- to reconstimte the southern seaircase. From hem dien, one can begin their waik along an interior Street passing through an intersection of sorts, and opening onto mderg,round exhibits of the Jewish delpartment. Pausing at this intersection of criss-crossing roads, aiready discerneci in the chiasmatic lines of the concept sketch, we can pas underneath the extension dong a doping road terminating at the Holocaust tower. This four- story high tower is an abstract monument in the form of a black trapezoidal volume without windows or stairs. As its name suggests, it is a mernorial to the victims of the Holocaust, and it wili funcdon on a metaphorical level as a hinerary depository for the names of victimized Jewish dtizens of 8eriin. For during the proces of design, Libeskind discovered the presence of ovo tomes in BOM caiied the Gedenkbuch, containhg nothlng other than the names, bLrtb&tes and destinations of people ghettolted, deci, deporteci, tortured and murdd by the Nazi regime since 1933. Uncountable names, thesefore, will be inscribeci on the interior walls of this 'voided void," as well as the udisconclauous void" nraniag throughout the body of the extension. Mernory and mouniiag are thus an integrai aspect of the design. la the future, another void in the shape of a long parallelogram may rise up from the ground just southeast of the Holocaust tower. If it is built, we would al- have to travel a subterranean route beneath the new building to get there; but on the way to this dismembered fragment, we muid have the opportunity to corne above ground at what ïibesand calls the E-TA Hoffmann garden of Meand emmigradon (fig. 14). This rather small and unonhodox garden is also accessible from the outdoors. and visible to passers-by as a square grid of conuete and rectangular columns seemingly floaaing on a sharply inclineci plane that has been rotated off-axis. From below, however, the visitor wiii be made to surface dong ramps that spiral upwanî, around and through this abyssal topos of ciisorienting perspectives, this labyrinthine forest of columns. Dedicated to the man who practiced law in the adjacent building and who wrote fantastic tales of a stureal nature, this 'mechanical" garda - whose 49 colnmns echo the 49 industriai boxes of the Writing Machine (1985) - is correspondingly an exercise in surreal or absurdist poetics. For, according to the architea. the vegetation will grow in an inverse

fashion out of the eartfi-AUed col~mns.~29 It is also possible that one of these coliimns will be clad in Stone quarrfed in Jerusalem. Indeed, as its name implies, the garden is intended to foster associations with the history of Jerusalem in the immediate pst-war period: a history of the influx of men, woman and children in exüc and emmigration. In particular. Ubeskind ciaims that the garden symboUzes 1948, the year Israel was declareci an independent nation. If the corridor can be interpreted as an aiiegory for the road of deand emmigration. then this corridor and ia attendant maze of a garden rnight remiad us of the 0th- destîny open to Jewish Beriiners at the outset of and-semitic tmrism= the hard road to the Promiseci Land. This unsetding theme is underscored by the Paul CWHof hinctioning as a bridge Linldng the exterior grounds benneen the Holocaust tower and the umechani~al"garden with the old gardens to the rem of the Berlin muse- As a survivor who emmigrated to Paris upon the estabiishment of Nazi dictatorship in Berlin, Céhn is here given a mernoriai. A paved courtyard with stones embeddeà in the cement in the faonof a mosaic, the Ccsian Hof was designed by GWe de Lestrange Célan, the wife of the poet whose 'last wrds" wiii forever disturb ow souls. On this point, the critic Caroline Wiedmer describes how the architecturai environs WUappear upon compledon:

A paulovinia, Célan's favorite tree, is plant& in the transidonal area kwnthe C6h Hof and the E T. A Hoffman4arten.... A garden of roses, the only plant aîiowed to grow within the vdsof old Jerudem. lies in the center of this area The Paradiesgarten consists of a finely cultivated grove of plants surrounded by its antithesis, a wildly proliferating mess of robinias, which in mm is bordered by a water- channel feâ by a WU originating hmkneath a tre nearby. l 30 Returning to the main intersmion (fig. 15). if we were now to continue straight along the first road issuing from beneath the Berlin musuem we would arrive at the main staircase that ascends through the five floors of the extension. As we dimb upvmrd. we would perceive that our steps are marked by a formal violence maaifest in a cluster of arbitrary, crissaossulg and diagonal conaete beams bursting forth through the angled waîîs and ceiüngs above us; or perhaps they are buttressing the structure in a primordial and Dionysian marner, as they rhythmicaUy interact with the rays of Ught that penetrate through the fissures in the wails. in this extraordinary spatial exprieme, 'one 1s confronteci by an architecture of weird and cornmancihg beauty, the baffllng intricacy of its fearless design ...."l31 Mthough it appean that there are six smaller staimiells distributed throughout the extension, the spine of the min staircase will provide the pubiic with a centralized access route to each level. opening ont0 the exhibition gaiîeries where we WUalso Rnd audio-visual corners. partlttoned medifadon rooms. and a lecture theatre. Commenthg on the unconventionai plan of the Interior floors, Libeskind says:

Standard exhibition rooms and traditional public spaces have been dissolved and disseminateci dong a rnyriad of cornplex trajtcrorfes in, on, and above the ground. These trajectories gradually and systematicaily transform themselves in th& fom, funaion and significance132

Having mtedone possible itinerary through the extension, 1 would now Like to &borate on the point that is beLag made in the architect's words quoted above. 1 have already suggested that in the architecture of Libeskind. space is not organized and hiefarchicaily ordered according to the classical principles of symmetry and proportion. For uniike the BerUn museum, or any of the utraditio~laipublic spacesw in the world for that matter, Libeskind's extension has no perceptible center: 'Nwer is the center." is the titie of a mernoriai to Mies van der Rohe. 133 While the German modernist celebrated order against chaos in architecture. he was al- the Arst to experiment wfth an ahierarchlcai. asymmetricai and even musical space in, for instance, the Brick Country House of 1924, the Barcelona Pavilion of 1929, or the Tugendhat House of 1930. The experience of Mies' cornpositioLliil space, or spaces in the plural. begins to approximate the manifold intricacy of the labyrinth, a condition that is even further accentuated along subterranean passages and angles of Mecdon in the recent architecture of Libe,ckind. The experience of hfs museun, therefore. has the capablllty of openins the gap between the external physiognomy of the building and its interior, an interior that can now be metaphorlcaîiy daml to the shape of the soui which fies open, as the archftect claims, tawards unon-spaflal realms.' On the interior, we are remindecl of the somewhat archaic idea that architecture is the house of the soul, an idea that has &uwnd in the sedariz- hg process of modernlty and that Ubeskind seeks to resusdtate at the end of that epoch. And now we can Wykgin. with the help of an architecture of 'baffling intricacy," to imagine what the soul might 'look likew today. In this contact, 1 would iike to cal1 upon Nietzsche who, in his Dam of Mofllfilg, wrote these sûildng words: 'if we wanted - and could dare - an architecture appropriate to out kind of souls (we are too cowardly for it!) - the iabyrinth would have to be our prototypelW'3* The notion of a centered subjectivity. bolstered by a Canesian or Eniightenment understanding of the soul, is swept away. For as Graham Parkes has argued in Composing the Soul: Reaches of Nietzsche's Psychology, Nietzsche felt that the sou1 was not a homogeneous faculty but a sometimes irrational conjunction of irreconciîable feelings, desires, and reasons. An went such as the Hoiocaust, what Ubeskind calls the 'absoiute event of history," forces us to confront Us truth; for the 'unreasonable absurclity of the cosmic situation" decenters the soui. 17. ...tdegams from Moses .... memes which induce a recluse wlthering in the pulsatit~gdam to inhale rhrough bis own mouthl3s

The black-and-white spectre of Schoenberg hovers over the creation of Libeskind's Jewish extension like an angel or inner conscience guiding the hand of the architect. This is literally wident in a collage that was reproduced in a 1991 edition of the journal of architechiral design calleci A~sembfage.~36 Above a photograph of the modei, it is the visage of Schoenberg and not Ubeskind that we are presented with; Mm+ Aaron is written across the bust of this mentieth-century composer, aîluâing to his greatest opera begun in 1930 but never Anlshed. A curious piece of music, this might have been one of the most inspiring forces behind the concept for the extension, both on a structural and semantic lweL Indeed, one could argue that our cerebral experience of the buiiding pivots on: 1) the inaudible harmony latent in Schoeaberg's meive-tone composition; and 2) the composer's interpretation of the Old Testament story of Moses and Aaron, not as an affirmation of faith in one almighty God, but as a way of coming to terms in the West with that ancient. universal and most disturbing metaphysical problem of representadon. Whether we becorne cognltant of this influence during our visit, however, is a query that 1 cannot honestly address in this paper, since the building has not yet opened to the public and the media dose responses are sometimes valuable when reflecting on the experience of architecture. Nevertheless, having taken for granteci what seems to be Libeskind's CUto represent. if only in a conjuration by way of symbol and aliegory, the spiritual absence left by the Holocaust, the exile and emmigration necessitating the consecradon of Israei in 1948, and the Lntellectuaî culnue of Jewish Berliners prior to its annihilation, we should now reflect more crirically on the role of image and meaning in the Jewish extension. 1 believe we can do x, in the light of Schoenberg's Moses and Aaron. The opera reflects an inner stmggle within the psyche of the Jewish composer, the two main characters personifying a dialectic of mental strife. On the one hand we have the unpresentable idea that Moses is charged with delivering to the peuple of Israel; and on the other hand we have the voice (Le., Aaron) that debases this idea by transfomthg it into somethlag that is nameable or representable by hguage. Thus, the story of Moses and Aaron f interpreted by Scboenberg as a metaphor for the paradox of representation always confroating the artist. Surely this is of the utmost importance in Judaism, as the second commandment veriûes: "Thou shah not maLe to thyself any graven image, nor the Wceness of anytb.ing which is in heaven or in the earth or under the earth.' The absolute is impossible to comprehend in Unguistic or physical terms, and therefore cannot be represented; moreover, since evmgon earth shares a part in the divine, it too is veriiy unavailable to the faculty of representation. Hence, the iconodasdc words at the end of the second act of Schoenberg's opera, bewailed by a dispirited Moses:

Inconceivable God! Inexpressible, many-sided idea, wiU you let it be so explaineci? Shail Aaron, my mouth, fashion this image? Then 1 have fashioned an image tao, false, as an image must be. Thus am I cief~ted! Thus, al1 was but madness that 1 beiieved before, and can and must not be given voice, O -rd, thou -rd, that 1 larkî

At this point in the libretto, the music gives way to the sublime authority of silence. Schoenberg never flnished wridng the music for Act Three; perhaps he felt that an opera embodying such an enigmatic paradox as that of representation was not meant to be Mshed. The completion of Act ïhree, then, is what Libesldnd presumes to accomplish on a metaphorid level in the inaudible music and 'hidden aminement" of his forms, details and spaces. In an interview for Archltechval Design, he avers at lengai:

1 wrked very closely with Schoenberg's xare Moses and Aarr,n. It is also a very interesthg picce of architecture because Schaenberg's stmcture, as you know, was designeci around the ramifications of barmonics as they are transformeci into another system by exhausting their own capacity for reladonships - thus dissolving the old notion of harmony and also attaining the 'inaudiblew aspects of relations. 'inaudible" in the sense that it is the voice of conscience and gmce in human existence. 1 literally tried to make the space in the museum proportional to the rhythm of the non-existent Act Three. This has a lot to do with Moses and Aaron: not only because Moses and Wnad6 up to twelve letters, and forrns a hermedc ~lve-tonesystem of Schoenberg, but because it rieais with the impossibflity of extending that attitude to music, art and culture through Schoenberg's reading of ûeriin.... But as for music and architecture, one should rather say architecture is already music ... wen den the music is inaudible.l3'

The inaudible and the unpresentable: this double of negativity names the indeterminate ground of the mechanism of meaniag in Ubesldnd's Jewish extension. When the architect refiects somewhere, 'Whereof one cannot speak one must rernain silent (Wittgenstein)," he immediately adds the pmviso: 'One must try to speak."t3e Aithough the reduse arrist is tempted to remaia silent with his or her sublime idea for fear of degradhg it in the event of communication, the idea must be spoken for reasons that are variably social, political, ethical, religious and metaphysical. Accordingly. any interpretation of the meanlng of the extension will have to be guided by the unsettllng paradox uncovered in Moses and Aaron. On one level, the extension is a symbolic mechaniYn ind-g hlstorical evenu, the culture of a people no longer present in the same marner. and the emptbess Left by their absence; on another level. the building will have to be seen as nothing more than an abstract ediflce challenging the former at every angle, ~dlesslyquestioning the ideology of representation and the transparency of meaning that the museum presupposes as an historfcaily detemed institution rooted in the metaphysics of presence. Amidst this unsettllng cüaiectic in which meaning defers itself, our imagination and consdousness are caîîed upon to defend the reality of what now appears to be non-existent. For in the aftermath of uniAcadon and the revival of Jewish Me and culture in Berlin, the events of the past are king vicamlzed by forgethilness, disappearing on the horizon separamg the visibiiity of the existent from the non-existent In his statement for the cornpetition of the Jewish extension. Libeskind concluded by saying that he was 'absolutely opposed to redudng arcbitechire to a detached memorial or to a mernoriai detachment," (BL 29) as artists usually and somedmes programmaticaiiy do when confronted with such projects. Thus, it is not simply a memorial that he has created The reporter Pameia Young veritles thfs fact when she wrltes: 'What reay bothers hlm. though, is that Berliners are now thinking about building a Holooaust memorial - when a shortage of hinds threatens to close the gates of former concentration camps." She quotes Ubeskind: 'It is not important to create fictitious consmcts of memory, but it is important to link up the city with actual places which have significance."l39 This is predsely what the architect has done. 1 believe, in the matrLx of addresses factored into the irrational geometry of the plan for the Jewish extension; but another urban proposai of 1993, the conuoversial reorganization of the former SS-grounds and concentration camp of Sachsenhausen. just north of Berlia in the city of ûranienberg. renders this concept of design explicit and tangible in an architecture procuring and cultivating the as yet 'unbomw in this uiisettling place.1'0 fnstead of succumbing to what the philosopher David Farreli Krell cas the 'amnesia of comrnemoration." Libeskind's designs for Sachsenhausen and Berlin yield a participatory space implicadng the visitor in a conscious negation of forgetfulness.lJ1 The Jewish extension. in particular, is an iconoclastie symbol of what remains immemorial. calïing out for an mam~esicresponse toward the silence surroundhg the void. For the architect knows that the absence of Jewish culture in Berlin cannot be contaiaed or reduced to an image: the Holocaust tower or udixontlnuousvoici," therefore, are not two more false images imbued with a memoriaïizing responsibiîity. Their logic of recollection ramer approxirnates what James Young has cailed the ucounter-monument," that which is opposeci to the monumental and heroic, didacdc and universaking character of the conventionaï memorial.142 For the counter-monument acknowiedges its Llmtts in the went of representadon itself in order to challenge the imagination ail the more fundamentaüy. Born out of a distrust for the work that inhibits coiiective memory, it negates assumptions about what it means to remember, openlng the unbridgeable gulf of dme betvlreen the object of recoktion and the present moment. Conflrming my observation regardhg the counter- monumental nature of Libeskind's architecture, Kreii writes that the Jewish extension speaks thus to the spectator: "Remember to remember me but remember to fornet wiratever you thought rememberirig W. Remember that you W aiwys be on the very verge of remembering events that aever dare can wiü be forgotten."~43

18. It 1s an attempt to AU up the soul with memory so tbat one wuld ffoally obiiterate it all togetheri **

Many intellects of antiquity and the early mediwal era saw evidence of the divinity and immortaLity of the humari soul in the wnders achieved by ia fadty of memory. For Piato, memory was what brought us doser to auth; the reaIity the seul once knew, previous to its entry into this dark abode cdled earth, was thought to reveal itself through recollection (Le.. the correspondence of sense impressions with those uanscendental forms and ideas latent in our souk). in the tfiought of Aristotle. on the contrary, mernory was constructed as a dimension of the imagination responsible for those mental pictures making human knowiedge possible; this idea is found in In mernoria et reminlsscentia, a neadse featuring as an appendix to the phiisopher's De anima. Whereas the reaiity recollected in Piato's soul was thought to be transcendental, Aristotle's reality was immanent In the soul's representations themselves. Finally, in St. Augustine's Confessions. an architecture of memory (formulateci eariier by the Greco-Roman inventors of mnemonics) was theoretically incorporateci into a divine trinfty of the sou& with human will and the understancihg complethg the triangle of a rational subjectivity.l4~ It is not swprising, therefore, that among Libeskind's muses it is the mother among them - Mnemosyne - who is consistently invoked in the work, albeit for very different ends. Already in the architectural drawfngs made More 1981, Hejduk was to disCern what he calîed X-rays of 'our mlnd-soul." in which abstract traces of memory drift in a decentered and boundless universe* Here, memory is no longer concepniaüzed as a whole and unifieci architecture of mental loci but a landscape that has wimessed the destruction of tus conceptual architecture merein the sod now stands in ned of a cure:

Shards of memory lie everywhete... exposed.. dare we pick them up? Those fragments cm cut deep... they have an internality. Perhaps they be the acupunctures of the sou111 46

Hence, whether we are puzzîing over the drawings. the Jewish extension, the plans for the redwelopment of Sachsenhausen, the 'City Edge" project, the Alexanderplan and Potsdamerplatz proposais, the ailegorical city-markers surrounding the Dutch town of Groningen. or even the many mernorials to Mies van der Rohe, not to mention a fantastic conssucdon of 1985 caïied the Memory Machine (fig. 16), we WUinevitably have to reflet on this faculty of the soul. For the work of Ubeskind nims to irnart a remembrance of something (i.e., architecture. technology, history. space, genius, knowiedge, the self, etcecera) the origins of which should remafn present to us, if only in a piecemeal form. But the purpose of this remembrance is not information or knOWIeâge of trivial wents, dates, biographies and facts, but something more binding upon the unfolbiag and pezpetual deîineation of the self by and with respect to architecture. the cosmopdls and epochal history. Thus, memory as an insrnent of knowiedge is subject to a critique in an architecture of pst- metaphysical impiications. Memory is no longer understood in terms of the presence of being to the mincl, for in iibeskind's work the immemortal names a violence that can potendally obiitemte memory and the soul, leaving only the deserreci shards of a void space caiïed 'Nwer fs the center." 1 would Ueto pursue what I have uncovered here as an affinity between memory and the soul, as it bears upon Ubeskind's wrk. To do as, we can focus on the three machines built in 1985, and show at the Venice Biennale of that year at the invitadon of Aido Rossi, who was then drector of the architecture section. Titled 7lme Lessons in Architecture, these machines were created in a collective spirit in conjuncdon with the architect's coUeagues at AM Arbr in Michigan. There, Ubeskind had assumed the Chair of the Department of Architecture in the Cranbrook Academy. During these years, he frequently traveled to MIlaa where he had beMended Rossi and founded a non-profit program called Architecture Intermundium. Although he has designeâ dire separate machines - the Reading Machine, the Memory Machine and the Writing Machine - they are acWy intendeci to be seen as one mechanical body whose interw~venwents of reading, remembering and wriring architecture could not be coherently expressai in a single image. The machines were designeci for the village of PaLmanova in the Veneto region of northeni Italy, though it now seems that their scope is much broader than that, not delimitecl by geographical locale. More important is the architect's description of them as lessons In the hfstoxy of architecture as it engages in an eternal dialogue with tecbnology. Thus. the Biennale projects, taken together, were described as being 'Jituated dong the intersection between the Axis of Architecture (Ti)and the Axis of Technology (Soul)."~~ Each machine correspondecl, therefore, to a paragond point in the history of Western technology or souk the Reading Machine imitateci the cramvOrk of the medieval gdd and emblemadzed 'the triumph of spirit over matter," the Memory Machine was 'a ghost of Humanism's cosmic hubrisw reflecting the engineering of the Renaissance spectade, and the Writing Machine consisted of an "Orphie' calculator or probabuty computer (prognosdcating] the written destiny of architecturewin the shadow of the Indusaial Revoluti~on.~~ Having said that, Libeskind has caudoned us when fnterpreting the machines In terrns of an historical narrative, because they do not celebrate the progress of civillzation and technology but address wfiat 1 have already examineci in a previous section as the end condition. which is just as much about architecture and urbanism as it is about technology or the history of the West (as Hegel already knew). Ubeskind writes:

At the end ifs possible to retrieve in some sense the whole past and future destiny, because the end of course 1s nothing in the future, nor is it anything in the past, nor is it anything in the present - it is simultaneously on al1 three levels. The three machines propose a funciamentai recoI1ection of the historical vicissitude, in particular of western architecture.149 Just as the jewish extension was said to confront the end condidon on aL1 three levels (i-e,, future, past, present) at once, so tm can the machines be interpreted as 'capping the West with a non-reversible gasket," not in order to stand outside of it like an omniscient Hegelhn idealist but to iiluminate the destiny of western architecture as a fiction of the soul: having aiready been

written, this is a destiny that 'was from its very beginning at its end."lso The machines, therefore, are not to be seen simply as a sequence or cycle of inâividual produca correlatfng with historical periods, but as a metaphysical totaïicy wherein the material objects are deemed unsubstantlal and transitory, mere 'residues of something which is nuly Important: the participatory experience (the emblem of reaîity which goes into their maldng)."ls1 This emblem is soul. Instead of fedshizing the history of teçhnology and objects, the machines initiate a recollection of three moments of the text That is, they are vehicles through which to teach fessons Ln mhitecture as a text to be: 1) read in the books station& on the revohring Hheel of the Reading Machine: 2) remembered in the active system of pulleys, props and images constituting a theatrical set in the Memory Machine: and 3) written by the alterable con- figuration of 2 662 mobile gears and parts in the Writing Machine. By me of th& uselessness with respect to the prlmary purpose of architecture (i.e.. shelter), the machines can also be construed in terms of an eccentric censure of inscnimentality; this is ironic as machines are usually tools ailowing humans to accompiish a tasic. If anything is accomplished hem, though, it is a three-tiered recollection of what Libeskind might caJl the 'unoriginal" origins of architecture, the lack of foundations, the revelation of the void after the evaporation of the tntth of architecture, after the ten texts, the ten books of Vitmvius have been exposed as ideology rather than a naniral set of lessons to be passed on eternally through the ages. For if we are in need of new lessons - new texts - it is because the old ones no longer sunice. 19. Wnen ehe once potent truth of archirectum is reduced tu a sign of its absence one expeziences a patching, su€fîocaririg mess: 'The psyche lusts to be ~t...'~~~

When the soui lusts to be wet. expiains Heraditus, la cosrnic f3re is in danger of king exthguished (futas the rational disposition of a man is susceptible under the influence of a).That 1s. In Heraditean cosmology, water is bought at the expense of fire and vice-vena. 'For souls (psychd it is death to becorne (be born as) ~ater...."~~~it seems that this condition of usuffocating dryness" in contemporary architecture, deprived as it is of al1 governing tnaths or rules, is in need of a rejuvenating splarh of water: but this spash would then snufT out the fbe of the soul. How are we then to make sense of this inconsistency? In his essay on Libesldnd's machines, the critic Jeffrey Kipnis has coinddentaiïy put forth a hypothetical reason for Ubeskind's quotation, in Chamber Workr. of Heradinis's words: psyche lusts to be wet...." hstead of attributhg the quotation to a misunderstanding of the philosopher's meaning, Kipnis elucidates the Heraclitean dialectic of Are and water in Libeskind's sutement in terms of a necesary sacrifice of the self:

Or can [the quotadon] be imaginecl that It indicates the moment in which an architea of obsessive incegrity realizes that the intemal conflict of king an architect today can be resolved only in an unthhkably cornplex act of self-sacrifice, one which grasps fully the rich multivalences of al1 the Wwater duaiisms In that sense [the quotadon] wuld foreshadow an act of simultaneous seif-immoladon and dtowning which wuld capture the endre ambivalence bemeen the Heraciitean fidwater structure of vitality /obliteradon and the ritual fire/wacer structure of sacrifl~e/abtutian.~54

Kipnis is reflectlng on the three machines in Ught of an event that I have neglected to mention here. but that was anxiously disclosed in the introduction to this essay. After the Venice Biennale, the three machines traveled along an international itinerary until their progress was mysteriously halted at the Ceneva Center of Contemporary Art in the summer of 1987. Here. the machines were woefully reduced to ashes in a Rre whose cause has not yet bendetermined. *Thou& to my knowiedge a writ has yet to be issued, nevertheless. the case is becoming well-known, " Kipnis' cryptic essay on the machines, is a rhetorical piece of writing that exploits the significance of Usregrettable event in order to shed light on another dimension of meaning hidden In the dynamic metaphysics of their creation and use. In the buiiding of the machines, Kipnis discovers Iibeskind preparing rituai objects for a 'fiery sacrificew wherein architecture's sin of idolatry is to be atoned for, and wherein their maker endeavors to "at one' his divided self as architect. as a first step in talring responsibiiity for architecture."lSs The many teferences to destruction, sacrifice and death by fire in the architect's own reflections on tbe machines are construed as evidence supporthg the hypothesis regarchg an atonement for the sin of idola~yfor wfiich architecture stands accused. The Bre consuming the three machines could then be ~11derstOOdin terms of an demental exchange which produces - on the other side of the equation - the water aiieviating the 'suffocatlag drynessw of architecture's current aspirations. For Kipnls, therefore, the machines contain yet another lesson; they teach architecture itself a lesson about its "cosmic hubris," or untmthful worship of presence, timelessness and monumentaîity; for in HeracUtean cosmology the worid is one of eternal flux, ciifference and change wherein notbing is Axed and permanent but Vire everïiving. kindled in measures and in measures going outm In this sense, Kipnis advises that we do not mourn tbe loss of these objects, but heed the lesson in the name of which they were created and then desmyeci. In the aftermath of this annihiladon, a moment wherein the architect 'experienced a sudden perishing of [his] sou1 engulfed as it were in Fire," a space for mourning is nevertheless drawn open by Libeskind. Conceived In Milan but installecl in the IL0 building in Geneva during March of 1988, the Ilne of Flre (fig. 17) consisteci of a rectilinear but zig-zagging construction made of wwâ Uke the machines themselves, and painted red as if to produce mental associations with the blood of sacrifice or the fire of the soU1.' 56 Wce a pemed thunderbolt, the Une of F- invaded and obsmcted our passage through a long and namw corridor defined by two rom of white columns whose tapered bases recalled the anthropomorphiring pllotis deslgned by Le Corbusier during midienniry: and so the neutral white space of a ûassicizing rmdernism is here supplemeibted by a 'Yeatless design" whose germ caa be seen In the constructivist spatial experiments and architectural fabricadons of the Russian avant-garde. Because the Une of Flre ultimately addresses itself to the lines of vision iïiuminated by the fire in ou.eyes (see Plato's Thnaeus on this point), I wuid We to quote yet again the Russian painter El Lissitzky, whose reflections on a new architecturai construction of vision - potentially manifest in the Proun - are insightN here:

We say that the Proun ceases to be a pfcture and turns into a structure round whkh we must drcle, tooking at it from ali sides, peering down from above, invesdgating from below. The result is that the one axis of the picture which stood at right angles to the hortzontal was desmyeci. Cfrcling round it, we screw owselves into the space.... We have set the Pmun in motion ro we obain a number of axes of projection1S7 nie Proun, as such, is not an object that we cmmaster through perspectival vision but a 'document" enjoining us to picture a new world reaüty of space and rime. Likewise, the Line of Flre constnicts a new reality about which the architect stenographically remarks: 'Architecture 1,244 degrees. Zero degree. Many directions with a single angle .... The end of right angles, of rite angles, of mite angles. Bend dong a f0ld..."~s8Scattered amund the tortuous body of the Llae of Fire, we Rnd theatrical props entreating us to participate in the becoming of this architecturai event. A step ladder or a wedge-shapeâ block of stairs, for instance, will aUow us to attain a height from -ch we may gîimpse the Heraclitean drawings on the walls of two lines of incision zipping thmugh the forrn: or apparatuses of orthogonal bars can be manipulateci so to re- produce multiple perspectives. Space, however, is not simply redefineâ in terms of non-Euclidean geometry or Relativity but demythologized and discardeci as something that wiU always be a staie historical conshuctio~of the mind, the eye and the measuring hand. On this point 1 would iike to quote the

Rel& hmthe dictatorship of proletarian thoughts, space ooz- out into a nebula that has no connstion with any astral deity. There lt undergoes its dearh with a dignity on& accordeci to aichemical transformations. No longer seen, because naw incarnateci and beionging to the eye itself, space becomes a clot locaiized and diagnosable within the embolism of camaJ traumas. In the disguise of 'place' it looks back at us with the gaze of a melancholic.... When architecture no longer deals with Space, al1 transactions, in which the container and the containeci twisted together - whether the ecstasy of space was that of bhh or death or form - have corne to an end. OnIy a phosphorescent glow reminds one that the two- dimensional contour one is pursuing is that of his atm eyes. The supple distance between the eyes, a third dimension of craft, is sufficient to prevent the collapse of a crystaliine domain, which drawing too proteas. Participating together in an organic complicity between two kinds of elisions, something gratuitous and % cornes to the fore. One codd cal1 it the Undecided Flesh (of Architecture). A possibility emerges for Architecture to escape from its 'cage' prsfsely because it is 'absent' from ftself, like the subconscious released to float in the air through the mortification of the body. Today Architecture's tsuth is not dependent on its embodiment, The vacant 'eye' of space - blind or dormant, who is to say? - has drained the Angel of Light of tifs glow; how strange rhat his -le could offer itself so meekly! ... the emptiness of Space no longer appmas a deficiency - as a faiiure to fil1 the gap ktween the heart and the stars. Presumably empdness allies itself with ft, fom&tg a new ovule, and through no failure of ours brings to fulfilment a foetus whose resilience is inconceivable in its unmitigated thinness. Emptiness is not a pure minus - not a deficiency as the idealists thought - but a play of new curvatures ... etemally misadjusteci to each other's hollowness. The audibility of Unoriginal Sounds - yet to be heard amidst the cheerful ice crackhg around us - profem this imrneasurable 'hole' of absence into a megaiithic proportion coextensive with the head, the hand and the eye. No one can be closer than that to the creator, whiie dis-remembdng his plans for a uni&ectional telecornmunications centre from which radiate signals that can never be retrievedlSg

Whatwer we condude regatding UbeskLnd's cryptic explanation of the "vacant 'eye' of space," it is certain tbat the Llne of Fire(on wfiich the above words are an uniikely commentary) marks a poetic deconstruction of the metaphysics of vision. disclosing the presence of something other in architecture, an emptiness or an absence. Recalling the void left after the incineration of the machlaes, we couid say that this 'emptied locale floods the consciousness and strikes at the husk of rnem~ry."~~~Indeed, Mark Taylor claims Ubeskind's form uimpiies but dœs not realize an architecture tumed to ash," thereby indexing a uholocaustwsuffered by architecture - and by analogy, another holocaust infiniteiy more terrible to recaii (not to mention al1 the genocidal exterminations occuring around us todayP1 These holocausts expose a void that is unlversally experienced; to paraphrase Libeskiad. it is through a feeling of absence that we are bound together in a community of 'Universal History." Finaiiy, if the Une of Fïre names an act of memory mournlng the los of these three architecturai machines, then in the Jewish extension Qe residue of that feeling (le., the 'objective carcass" of the Line of Flre, characteristicaiîy defined betwen ~volines) is reinscribeci in a project cbrged wlth the grave responsibiiity of mournLag the loss of Jewish 90 iife and culture in Berh And so we have arriveci at the lines of creativity and souî predicating the inmicate and abyssal foudation for the design of the Jewish extension, drawn up approxtmately one year after the installation of the Line of Fh

A IIliikeshift conclusion. in an article of 1920 tided "Kabarett zum Menschen," the self-prodaimed Dada-soph Raoul Hausmlnn projected a vision of the sod, no less redemptive than disturbing. AmIdst the spiritual despondency of the bourgeois CU~N~of Europe during the early twentieth-cennuy, aiready inelmateci by Kandinsky, Hausmann's vision had the character of a senseless joke, a satire of the Expressionist ego. or wen a timely parable for moderniw Thousands of souls. cut out for a Dada evening, were to be thmwn and scattered haphazardly over the world of a German cabaret162 What could this artist have imagineci the nature of these thrown souk to bel Mere words scribbled on ten-thousand pieces of ordinary paper. for me the soul is here uncovered as an inherently rneaningless linguistic construction. an arbitras, flickering event in a seemLngly inadonal universe keft of God. Indeci, the Creator is no longer immanent in these souls on a mystical horizon of faith. meaning has been exposeci as a reflection of our faculty of desire, and the Phtonic image of a world-sou1 composed by the protractor of a demiurge convinced of the precepts of harmony and proportion has finaiiy aumbled. Modernity, tt seems, in its hlstorical engineering of what we have corne to caii fragmentation, iifted the veil conceaLing the true nature of the Enlightenment soul, reveahg it to be an expendable part of the nightmare of war, mechanizacion and secuïarization. An assemblage calleci Mechanical Head ( The Spirit of c&e Times) and a graphic poem called Seelen-Automobfl, both of which were conceived by Hausmanri during the year his cabaret performance was outlined, verify this cornmon supposition of mine. Yet this artist's anti-aesthetic creations and gestures, while appearing overtly pessimistic or even nihillsdc, can also be understood as comprishg just one attempt among many others to awaken the soul, or awaken reflection on the sod, in modem times. in the dosing years of our century, I beiieve LLbeskind is just one ardst who has condnued to think through and work dong that interminable Ilne of rdecdon, albeit in the medium of architecture and in the face of an absurd cosmic situation underlined by the terror of Auschwitz - an went that the atchitect does not presume to simply cemember or express in his work but whose unpresentable or iinimaginable natute cm nevertheless be conveyed by an architecture that acluiovvkdges the void left over.163 What has changeci since Hau~mann'stime, though, and to some extent because of the horrors of ow century, is that we have becorne more modest in our representations of the wul, knowfng that it is not somethlng that rweals itseif so meekîy. Hence, the significance of HUlderh's verse employed as a prelude to the precarious dwelopment of this research: 'Reckiess! wanting to see the soul face to face you go dmin flame~."~6*1 would îike to venture the idea tbat in mourning the machines as vlcdms of such a piight, Libeskind's Line of Fire underscored the unnameable and invisible realfty of the soul while yet providing the architect with an intimation of tts 'shape," now felt in the sanctifieci space of the Jewish extension. And yet, we should not be so naïve as to beUwe that the sou1 is manifest in this design. Recalling what we said at the outset of this investigation, the soul is not simply Immanent in visible matter as a creatlve and rational form-giving principle. Surely, before the pyramid and the temple, the cathedral and the palace, and more recently the great halls, universities and museums of modern civilizadon in the West, it is possible that a spectator may be struck breathless by an image of weriasting grandeur and harmony; the massive solidity and orgaciic proportions of such buildings can reflect and sustain order in society. can muse the intellect and the motions, and can present us witb a shadow of the soul's Immortality. But the sou1 is not there, neither in the object that is the building nor in the subject perceiving it Having becorne disillusioned of this bourgeois platitude. we now find it necessary to suspend judgment and question yet again those h-st ideais of perceptible order and timeless monumentality. Reduced to mere signs of impotence and falsity. these values are now understod as having obscured something more important, something Libeskind seeks to resuscitate in his absurd texts, collages and other architectural work - work that has always betrayed a spirinial affinity with Hausmann's Dada. Thus, in bis persistent interrogation of the ideological foudations of architecture, LfbesWnd cultivates an awareness of another kind of presence that is not the presence of king but a caesura in thought and a 'Une of ïighming which shatters the space-time of plotseWi6s This presence is what eludes the mind but which can nevertheless be feit by it: the mind is touched by that," says Lyo- 'it is soulmi%

DANIEL UBESKIND TELEFAX 4rDate: Tue, 75 Apr 7997 09:13:54 -0100 From: El Croquls Edrtorral [email protected]~ To: ~robrnso@~ulran.uwo.ca Sublect: EL CROQUIS images

You have our permission to reproduce from EL CROQUIS as many :mages as ?ou need for your thesis, provided that they are not used for commercial purposes and that you quote us as the source. Best regards,

Paloma Poveda Notes

1. Libeskind, "Dedication." in Book 3, Notes for a Lecture: Nouvelles Impressions d'Architecture (Milan: Electa Spa, 1988), page unknown.

2. it was the New York architect Peter Eisenman who commented first on Libeskind's negotiation of the theoreticai and practical If mi ts of architecture. See Eisenman, 'Representations of the Limit: Writing a 'Not-ArchitectureJ,* in Chamber Works: Archirecrurd Medita tions on Themes hmHeraclitus ( London: Architecrural Association. 19831, pp. 6-8. Apart from Esenman, the Swis architect and theorist Bernard Tschumi has also reflected on the Iimits of architecture See Tschumi, "Architecture and Limits," in Architecture and Disfundon (Cambridge= The MIT Press, 19%). pp. 101-118. 1 believe that the question of the iimits in architecture has been raised by much of the avant-garde architecture of our century, even if the issue b only now king consciously debated in the acadernies by cednarchiteas and theorists informeci by deconstruction.

3. Libeskind, 'Benmen Method, Idea and Desire," in Lbmus (Oaober 1991), p. 17.

4. Lyotard, "Presence," in The Language of Art History (Trans. Marian Hobson and Tom Cochran. Ed. Salim Kemal and Ivan Gaskeli. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 25.

5. Before Lyotard, Martin Heidegger - who al= recognized the importatlce of art in his phiiosophy - had initiated a simUar 'destrucniring" of what 1 wuld cal1 the metaphysics of soul as form-creating category. in the 1935 essay, 'The Origin of the Work of Art," in Basic Writings (Trans. and hi, David Farrell Krell, New York: HarperCollfns, 19931, the deeprooted and popular didectic of form and matter is criticized: 'But the theological interpretation of al1 beings, the view of the wdd in terms of mamr and form borrowd from an alien philosophy, having once ken insdtuted, cari still remain a force, This happens in the transition from the Middle ages to the modem dmes. The metaphysics of the modern perfod tests on the form-rnatter structure devised in the medieval period, which itself merely tecalls in its wrds the buriecî natures of eidos [appearance] and hyle [matter]. Thus, the interpretation of 'thingm by means of matter and form, whether it rernains medieval or becornes Kantian-transcendental, has become current and self- evident. But for that reason, no les than the other interpretations mendonecl of the thingness of the thing, Lt is an encroachment upon the thing-king of the thingn (p. 155- 156). Heidegger argues that this encmachment does violence to something more essential, namely king - the vicdm of the forgetfulness of modem humanity. As such, Heidegger attempts to uncwer a les tangible origin of art, one not rooted in the proto-humanism of the medievai period but in the Greek concept of avth as unconcealment (aletheia). Althougb he never spoke of the soul, I wuld argue that his theory of unconcealment, reinterpreted aftet the pst-structuralist critique of presence, is what foregrounds Lyotard's concept of soul. In Le. Diff'ërend.Phtases in Dispute (Trans. G. van den Abeele. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 19901, Lyotard resumes a discussion of the fÙrm/marter problem where Heidegger leh off, spea)cing of the tuip tems of the dkhotomy as *phrases in dispute." Waming us of the différend between the 'form-phrasemand the 'matter-phrase," he explains that one term cannot be dominated by the other. The implication is that we lack control over matter as an fmmaterial event, not simply of disclosure in the sense of a reveladon of truth but of what Lyotard now cals presence or soul. On this point, also see Lyotard's 'After the Sublime, the State of Aesthetics.' in The Inhuman: ReBections on Tlme (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1988), pp. 135-143. 6. By immaterials, I am obviously referring to Lyotard's famous exhibition of 1985 at the Center Georges-Pompidou in Paris. See Lyotard and T. Chaput, Les fmmaténlaux (Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1985). In this multi-media show, the material make-up of nature was questioned by various artists continuing the avant-garde project of experimentation, pushing art beyond its limits: rules, assumptions and boundaries. Contemporary tmhnoscience, as it was addressed by these artists and theorists, pointed to the deconstruction of the Cartesian subject who assumed rnastery over the materials of the objective world in the past For a critical discussion of the show, see Paul Crowther, 'Les lmmaceriaw and the Postmodern Sublime," in Critical Aesthea'cs and Postlnodernism (Mord: Clarendon hss, 1993), pp. 162-1 76.

7. See Lyotard. 'Newman: The Instant," in The Inbuman: R&ecdons on me,pp. 78-88.

8. The French writer Jacques Derrida reflects simibtiy on this condidon in '+ R (Into the Bargain),' in The T'th fn Paindng (Trans. Geoff knnington and Ian McM. Chicago: University of Chicago Ptess, 1987). p. 155. Writlng on the paindngs of Valerio Adami, he speaks of a 'remahder" (+ R) that is there from the beginning, an instance of différance rendering meanhg and interpretation prublemadc: 'As for painting, any discourse on it, beside it or atxwe, dways strikes me as silly, both didactic and incantatory, programmed, wrked by the compulsion of mastery, be it poetfcai or philosophicai, always, and the more so when it is pertinent. in the position of chitchat, unequal and unproductive in the sight of what, at a stroke [d'irn mit], does without or goes beyond language, remaining heterogeneous ta it or denying it any werviw." In a situation wherein both author and addressee faif to master the object, Derrida States, painting takes the breath away. Could this be an instance of soul? In "Presence," Lyotard repiies in the affirmative.

9. Lyot- 'The Sublime and the Avant-Garde," in Rosmoddsm: A Reader (Bi.Thomas Docherty. New York: Columbia University Ptess, 1993), p. 245.

10. Lyotard, 'fresence," p. 32.

11. 1 am thinking of Kierkegaard's accaunt of the 'knight of faith" in Fear and Trembling (Trans. and Ed. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1983).

13. Although the question of the spiritual is king raid everywhere now, whether in the polar domains of scholarty research and popular culture, or even in the home and the marketplace, 1 suspect that this sirnply attests to the bankruptcy of Our spintual situation in the west, and that our feelings of desperation and nostalgia for transcendentais are signs of an age where any last traces of an idealist romance with God have ben rendered meaningless by the postmodern phenornenon. It is no wonder, therefore, that rnany capable scholars have recently becorne somewhat reactionary in their thinking and wridng. For instance, Keith Ward, a theologian at Mord university has just attacked Marx, Nie-he, Freud, Jacques Monory and others in the name of soul. His book, entitted Defendhg the Soul (Oxford; Onevmrld, 1992), is nothing other than a misguideci and dfshonest drade against those who have sauggied most in modern history to unsettle certain unjust and establisheû orders, dogmas and institutions - including what might be called the institution of soul Equaily in the &main of architecture theory do we find this cridcism. Wtness CMstopher Day's Places of the Soul: Architecure and Environmental Design as Healing An (Liondon: Aquarian/Thorsons, 1993), ultimately a reproof of cosmopolimn dwlling in the modem perid And yet, the opinions elaborated in this book remain insensitive to the more profound discussion of this problematic initiatecl by Heidegger and theorized by architects, ctidcs and historfans such as kter Behrens, Mies van der Rohc Le Corbusier, Gerrit Thomas Rietveld, Peter Eisenmari and Francesca dal Co, even Libeskind. ûay preaches that the upmoted and fragmentary nature of our dwlling places needs to be countered with an anthropocentric order that will establish human roots in the soit of the earth, wherein a mysterious union between the soul of people and the history of the place will occur. He argues for an architecture that is unique, comfomble, enduring and sensitive to the spirit of the place or environment in which the buiiding is situated. Howver, while his thesis appears commendable on the surface, it is subfect to the condngency of behaviorist psychology. In the end, his text is an embarrassing series of presuppositions failing to question the terms on which it is based: place, soui, environment, spirit, history, and even architecture itself. Surely we could locate additional examples of this kind of thinking and writing, but the above two should give the dera sense of what is king written today. Hence, the necessity of a counter4iscourse.

14. By "designing the conditions,' 1 am invoking the polidcized rhetoric of Tschumi. Opposing what he calls the 'conditions of design," nothing other than a received set of rnethods and principles advocated and perpetuated in the academies, Tschumi speaks of the 'design of condttionsn that WUpssibly lead to an emancipating effect in the pubfc sphere. ln 'Six Concepts,' he writes: "Architecture is not about the conditions of design but about the design of conditions that wül dislocate the most traditional and regressive aspects of Our society and simultaneously reorganize these elements in the most liberadng way, so that Our experience becornes the experience of events organized and strategized through architecture. Strategy is a key wrâ in architecture -y. No more niasterplans, no more locating in a flxd place, but a new heterotopia" See Tschumi, 'Six Concepts," in Architecm and Disjunctfon, p. 259. On other occasions, Tschumi has alsa spoken of the way in which architecture constructs subjectivicy, or rather designs the conditions for a new idendty (might we say soul?) - which is arguably the project of Llbesktnd also.

15. Libeskind, 'Three Lessons of Architecture," in Architecture and Orbanism 2 15 (August 1988). p. 134.

16. See Libeskind, 'Betwen the Unes: The Jewish Extension to the German Museum in Berlin," in Architectural Design 6û (March-April 1990). p. 64. These men and wmen are not sfmply famous, but stand for a cridcal position with respect to the paradox of existence and culture. 1 quote: 'They spirituaiiy affirrn the permanent human tension which 1s polarized bewnthe impossibili~of System and the impossfbiliw of giving-up the search for a high order. Tragic premonition (Kleist), sublimated assimi1ation (Varnhagen), inadequate ideology (Benjamin), mad science (Hoffmann), displaced understandimg (Schleiermacher), inaudible music ( Schœnberg), Iast mrds (Celan): these consdtute the cridcai dimensions which this wrk [the Jewish extension] as discourse seeks to trattsgress." (p. 64)

17. Wbeskind, The Surface Must Me. A Proop in kconstruction: Omnibus Volume (Ed. Andmas Papadakis, Catherine Cooke and Andrew Benjamin. bndon: Academy Edidons, 1989). p. 193.

18. See 'A Combinatorial Casrnolaay of the Contemporary City The Books of Groningen',' in Intemmmunicaeion 2 (August 1992). Edited and introduced by Volker Grassrnuck, but featuring statements by intelleauals from a diversity of Relds, this tnternet document covers the Stad~marke~gGroningen project realized in 1990. Responsible for the masterplan which he called 'The Books of Groningen," in this project Libeskind was to locate the borders and mark the identity of the Outch city in a tirne where the notions of border and identity have been thrown into question. Ta achiwe this end, he relinquished his position as masterplanner and invited a number of strimgers to Groningen to design ardstic and alfegorfcal markers for a seqwnce of locations encirciing the perimeter of the city Kurt Forster, Akira Asada, Shiro Takatani, Thom Puckey. Gunner Daan, Heiner Müller, William Forsythe, John Hejduk, Leonard Lapin, Enn taansoo and Paul Virilio participatecl in a pmject intendeci to define the identity of a city in the age of information, where our perception of red space becornes unimpormnt in the fare of what Virilio calls 'telempian" space In this new space of 'tentacular" nodes and nemrks of immaterial movement, te1ecommunicadons technology renders the idea of spatial identity obsolete. The Jewish extension, 1 wuld argue, approaches a similar redefinition of urban design fnsofar as the hmaterial nemark of addmses influencing the spatial parameters of the buiiding are inscribed in its irradonal geometry, which opens onto the infinite.

19. Libeskind, 'ktween the Lines," in Arch~tecturalDesign 60 (July-August 1990), p. 28. As 1 am wridng in mafnly the shadow of cfiis statement, al1 subsequent citations ffom it wiii be documenteû with the abbrwiation BL and a page nwnber in parentheses

20. Libeskind's extension has ken unjusdy criticfieci by John Knesl on the basis of this ambiguity. See Knesl, 'Acddental Classidsts= Freed in Washington, Libeskind in Berlin," in Assemblage 16 ( 19911, pp. 98-101. Later I shall venture to put forth the tdea that Libeskfnd's space is neither nihilistic nor tending towards 'nowhere" as Knesl claims, but indeed approaching what the cridc denies the design: 'an ahierarchical, postctassical spatial order" (p. 101).

21. Libeskind, 'Fishing fmm the Pavement (Architecture Perfected)," in Journal of Phiiosophy and the Visual Ars 2 ( 1990). p. 57.

22. In 'The New Modem Agenda,' in Architectural Design 62 (January-Febmary 19921, p. 19, the English architect and historian Charles Jencks likewise ciaims that the question of modernity is present in Ubeskind's extension: 'The quintessential New Modem projeet, I believe, is the Jewish extension to the Berlin Museum, designed by Daniel Libeskind. Uke Gehry's fish, one can find a representational image deeply embedded in the plan - so this wrk is responding ho the Post-Modern critique of pu= abstraction. The six-pointed star is fractureci and recombined to give resnnants that are recognizably 'Jewish', and there is an understandable void running down the center of the scheme to constantly remind one of the 200,000 Berlin Jews who are specifically memorialized here. It's a dynamic, suggestive, tragic architecture with most of the formal hallmarks of the 'New Modernism', but is both fresh and appropriate for its job. " Such remarks are typical of Jencks' categorizing rhetoric which simplifies and popularizes projeces that are othenvtse deemed Inaccessible by the media and its follo~While Libeskind is interested in the quesdon of modernity, it is not as an architect attempting to extend or reinvent the abstraction of expressionist and constructivist architecture ln the modern period, but as an intellecttaal upset with the superficiality and deadend polemics of so-called post- modemist classidsm with its strategies of historicist quotation and "doublecoding." In a later section of this essay, 1 dl1 deaî with this problem in more detail. explaining Libeskind's point of view on what Jencks calls the 'New Modeniism."

23. Libeskind, 'An Architecturai Design Interview," Architectural Design 60 (September October 1990), p. 17. 24. Although I acknowiedge the sou1 to be immatenal, this does not mean that it is caught up in the dialecdc of soul (or mind) and body assadated with the modem philosophy of René Descartes, who reinvesdgated the mind-body problem in his Meditations on Fitst PliiIosophy ( 1641). The origins of this dnd-body dualism can be traced back to the G ree ks and the later perpetuations O bserved in the tdealist metaphysics of the nineteenth century where spirit is placed above matter, reason above the senses, subjectfvity above objectivity, in a succession of metaphysical hierarchies. In recent Continental philosophy, however, the transcendentai ego of Romantic philosophy is deconstructed, such that metaphysics is confronted with another understanding (more like an intimation!) of the sou1 that Is neither dualisdc nor simply materiaiist Cilles Deleuze, for instance, takes the Baroque phflosophy of Gottfrfed Wilhelm Leibniz as his point of entry into this ageald philosophical problem, and discovers what he calls the material (or pertiaps inmaterial) fol& or pleau in the soul, such that the body is now irnplicated in the becoming of soui, and vice-versa The mode1 for the sou1 is rhizomatic rather than architectonic (as it was for Kant). Thus, in The FOId Leibniz and the Baroque (Tram. Tom Conley. Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press? 19881, Deleuze celebrates the Expressionist paintings of Paul Klee. It is argued that Klee, like Leibniz, esch- the mechadcal or bfnary thought of Descartes in his wrk, and provides us with an intimation of the complex and dynamic Baroque inflecdons of the soul, signiflcantly expressed through the fond traits of Une and color. For Lyotard as well, the distinction ktween matter and spirit, or body and sout, is elideci. It 1s nothing other than a theoredcal- Iinguistic construction hose convenient usage is rwealed for what it is a theological fiction of the past But as his exhibition of 198s pointedly demonstrates this does not predude the Immateriality of the souL

25. Libeskind, *Fishing frorn the Pavement (Architecture Perfected),* p. 53.

26. It was Jacques Derrida and Peter Eisenman who inidated this theoredcal retum to Plato's Tfmaeus when they appropriated the tdea of chora (i.e., space or place without boundaries or definttion) found in that text for their collaborative design project ( Choral Work, 1986) for the Parc de la Villette on the outskirts of Paris. Since then, Gregory Ulmer has made use of the concept in his theary of heurisdcs, while the historian and theorist of architecture, Alberto Pérez-Cornez,has devoteci a book to the subject. See Chora 1: Intervals in the Philosophy of Architecture (Ed. Alberto Pérez-Gomez and Stephen Parcell. Montreal: McGiliQueens University Press, 1994).

27. Jacques Derrida, 'Why Peter Elsenman writes such good books," in Restnrcturing Architectural Theory ( Ed. Marco Dani and Catherine ingraham. Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 1989). p. 102.

28. See Otto von Sirnson, The Gothic Cachedral: Orfgins of Gothlc Architecture and the Mdeval Concept of Order (NewYork: Pantheon Books, 1956).

29. Libeskind verifies this idea himself in his staternent 'Between the Lines," in Architectural hlgn 60 (March-April 1990). p. 65. 1 quote: 'The Museum ensemble is always on the verge of BecomUlg - no longer suggestive of a final solution."

30. Quoted in Charles H. Kahn, The Art and Thought of Heraclitus. An edition of the fragments with crandadon and commentary (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 19791, p. 132.

3 1. Ubeskind, 'Fishing from the Pavement (Architecture Perftcted)," p. 50. 32. See Jean-François Md,'The Measure of Expression: Physiognomy and Character in Laqueu's 'Nouvelle Méthode'," in Chora 1: Intervals in the Philosophy of Architecture ( Ed. Aiberto PérezGmez and Stephen Parcell. Montreal: McGill University Press, 1994), pp. 34-56. Bedard's analysis of the use of physiognomy and character in architectural design presents us with an insightful discussion of the theories of the foliowing academictans: Charles LeBrun ( De l'expression générale et particulière), Jacques-François Blonde 1 (Cours d'architecture), Nichobis LR Camus de Mézieres (Le Genie de l'architecture), Peter Camper ( Dissenadon sur les vdétés naturelles), and of course Jean-Jacques Lequeu ( Nouvelle méthode).

3 3. Goethe, "On Germari Archi tecwe ( 177 2 ) ,* German Essays in An History ( Ed. Gert Schiff. New York: Condnuum, 1988), p. 39.

34. Libesklnd, "Deus ex Machina'/'Machina ex Deo': AIdo Rossi's Theatre of the World." Oppositions 2 1 ( 1980), p. 4.

35. Goethe, 'On German Architecture (1772)," p. 36.

36. SeGerhart B. Ladner, 'Ad lmaginern Dei: The Image of Man in Medieval Art," in Modern Perspectives in Western An Histogy: An Anthology of 20th-cennuy Writings on the Visual Arts (Ed. W. Eugene Kletnbauer. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc., 1971). p. 446.

37. Erwin Panofsky, Goihic Architecm and Scholasdcism (New York: New American Library, 1976). p. 6.

38. Panofsky, p. 27.

39. Wlhelm Womnger, Form in Gochfc (Ed. Herbert Read New York: Schocken Books, 1%7), p. 12. In this essay, Worringer applies his 'psychology of style,' as theorized in Abstraction and Empathy= A Contribudon to the Psychology of Style (Trans. Michael Bullock. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul Ltd., 1953), to Gothic fonn and space. For him, there were tw psychological impulses running throughout the history of fine art, narnely the impulse CO organidze nature (hmout of what scholars like Konrad Fiedler and Theodor Lipps calleà empathy) and the impulse to abstraction, both of which reveal themselves through style. While ernpathy cùcurnscttbed the "will to form" disclosed by the organic nature of uclasslcal* an, abstraction was the driving force behind 'primitiven and aonentalwart of a crystalline non-objectlvity. In Fonn in Gothie, Worringer argued that the Gothic soul, king transcendental in orientation, was inclined to abstraction, alchough we also discern in the Gothic façade an infusion of the organic vitalism of empathetic art, especially in the late Gothic period due to the influence of mysticism.

40. Worringer, Abstraction and hpathy: A Contribution to the Psychology of Style, p. 133.

4 1. Womnger, Form in Gothic, p. 68.

42. Wassily Kandinsky, Concerning the Spiritual in An(Trans. M.T.H. Sadter. New York: Dover Publications, 1977). p. 8.

43. Kandinsky, p. 25. 44. Libeskind, 'Milan Triennale Project," in Architecture and Urbanisrn 2 15 ( August 1988). p. 135.

45. Likkind's wrk, h-er, is not the only instance of this approach in late wntieth- century design. It is afso witnessed, 1 believe, in: Car10 Scarpa's assemblages of ornamental detail: the broken, fragmented and re-assembleci volumes of Mdo Rossi's work; the deconstructive method of Bernard Tschurni; Frank Gehry's disjunctive bricolage: Hans HoIlein's poedcs of rituai sacrifice: the spliced and expiodeci foms of Caop Himmelblau; Jennifer Bloorner's theory of textual assemblage; and other examples of the recent pst- For an intelligent discussion of the theoretical principles behind this approach, see Anthony Vidler, 'Architecture Msmembered," in The Architectural Uncanny: Essays in the Modem Unhomefy(Cambridge: MIT Press, l!Wî), pp. 68-82.

46. See Shusaku Araka- and Madeline Gins, Architecture= Sites of Reversible Destiny (Architectural Euperimen ts aher Auschwfn-Hiroshima) f London: Academy Edidons, 19%). The 'sites of reversible desdny" that Arakawa and Gins envision in diagrams and plans are labyrfnthine like the installations of Libeskind, designecl to draw out time and negate mortality, reinscribe the actions of the body In space and open experience to the ubiquity of shifting dimensions, render vision the toy of multiple horizons and disturb the complacendes of cognition, and even funcdon as an index of the saul. Although the comparison seems superficial, I believe ft is plausible not only for the reason that these artists are expforing the passibility of architecture 'after" Auschwitz and Hiroshima but also insofar as they recognize that functional building and cornfortable dwelling ned to be dfsjoined from the problem of architecture in order to cridcally address the role of architecture in Our iives and after the darkness of a tragic history. Like Libeskind, Arakawa and Gins (conceptual artists of the 1960s who have recently tumed their attention to architecture) approach architecture from without, not knowing what will corne of their endeavors since (for them) a void lies at the very hem of this discipline.

47. iikkind, 'Milan Triennale Project," p. 135.

48. Here, 1 am drawing on Denis Hollier's discussion of Georges Bataille's wridngs in Against Architecture: The Writings of Geatges Bataille (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1989). According to Hollier, Bataille saw architecture (either the Stone ediflce or the meta- physical constmct) as a prison dose walls nded to be destroyed by a more truthful description of the structure of human subjecdvity. For Bataille, human king (no distinction bet~leensou1 and body is irnplied in his te-) represents a 'non-teleoiogical" and 'labyrinthine" structure in which al1 oppositions are dissolveci. From the beginning, it could be argueci that we have sought a way out of this labyrinth in and through the erection of a pyramid of reason. Standing at the threshold of architecture ln the west, however, the pyramid has only serveci to validate the prison-house of metaphysics rather than embodying the prospect of emancipation. My opinion is that Ubeskind's drawing represents a moment ln the unfolding of the labyrinth rather than the erection of the pyramid

49. Jennifer Bloomer, 'Abodes of Theory and Flesh: Tabbles of Bowler," in Assemblage 17 (1992). p. 13.

50. Bloomer, p. 12.

5 1. See Blwmer, pp. 6-29. 52. Hejduk, 'The Atbatross Screeched," in Chamber Work Atchinxtural Medimdons on Themes fium HeracUtus, p. 12. Although Hejduk is referring to Chamber Workr, I believe that his commentary is equally relevant for Anatomy's Melancholy.

53. Libeskind, 'Fishing from the Pavement (Architecture Perfected)," p. 52.

54. The same 'signature" markings can be found in the walls of many of Libeskind's designs: the *City Edge* project for Berlin (1987), the Pocsdamerplacz pmject for Beriin ( 1991). the Tours Centre for Contemporary An (1993), the Wiesbaden Office Complex ( 1993). the Feiix Nussbaum Museum for Osnabnick ( 1995). and the Bremen Philharmonic Hall (1995).

55. Meir Romen, "AConstant Reminder," in Art News 92 (April 1993). p. 23.

56. Many cridcs and historians have commented on the imponance of the score in Libeskind's drawings and designs, including Kun Forster and Juhani Pallasmaa See Forster, "Chamber Wotks From the Work Chamber of Daniel Libeskind," in Chamber Work Architectural Meditadons on Themes hmHeraclitus, pp. 9- l 1: and Pallasmaa, 'Images in the Libeskind Macroscope," in Bemeen Zero and 1nfin.i~Wecaed Projets in Architecture (New York: Rizzoli, 1981), p. 104. In ment architecture sfnce Le Corbusier's mid-century coilaboration with the modem composer Iannis Xenakis on a number of projects, only Bernard Tschumi has experimented with the squential logic of the score in his architecturai design

57. This effets is comparable to what happens in Peter Eisenman's Wexner Center for the Visud Arts in Columbus, Ohio (1989). Having been criticized for purposely disrupdng the exhibition space with shadow and light, thereby destroying the possibility for a neutrai backdrop in the disptay of visual art, Eisenman recorts that if ardsts do not want to have to rethink the spatial reiadonship between art and architecture, they can exhibit their wrk at one of îhe more convendonal museums in the city.

58. Libeskind, Book 3, Notes for a Lecture: Nouvelles Impressions d'Architecture, page unknown.

59. Ubeskind, Book 3, Notrs for a Lecture: Nouvelles Impressions dJArchiitxnrre,page unknown.

60. See Libeskind and Donald L Bates, 'A Conversation ûetween the Unes 4th Daniel Libeskind," in Daniel Ubeskiad 1987-1996 (Madrid: Et Croquis, 1997). p. 11. Asked about the character of line in his architectural design, one of the things the architect comments upon Is the iines of the windaws= There are of course, the one hundred lines of the windows represendng the intersecdon of addresses of Jews and Beriiners alike, but that Is too lengthy a story....' [t is unfortunate that the architect breaks off at this point, but we can hypothesize a reason for this mapping of the lines of axes onto the wails of the extension in the form of radicdy unorthodox windows.

6 1. See Libeskind, 'Unoriginal Slgns," in Chamber WohArchiaectural Meditadons on Themes fmm Heracfitus, p. 4. See also Kahn, The Art and Thought of Heraclitus: An &don of the fragments &th translation and commentary, p. 245.

62. Lfkkind, "Fishing from the Pavement (hhitecture Perfected),"p. 60. 63. Kahn, p. 126. According to Kahn, in the wrds of Heraclitus we can reconstmct the first psychology, one where the sou1 becomes a 'source or center of the human personality," but something that simultan~uslyremains universai and not simply manifest in a body. Soul is *intensity of thought," 'self-awareness," 'reason," and 'radonai cognition," but it is not to be disdnguished from matter or body, as in Cartesian doctrine. Contrary to the popular belief that Heraciitus identified the sou1 with 'cosmk fîre,' Kahn argues that instead it was more akin to 'atmospheric vapor, air or 'exhalation'* in the Homeric sense. The idea of limitlessness conveyed by thfs fragment then, should tell us that he conceived of the sou1 as a universal principle, a *finite but boundless" rnicrocosm, a "Milesian arche. "

64. This is a reference to Heidegger's dl-known inclination to go beyond, behind or More the destructive iogic of metaphysics. QIoaed as having asked '1s the no-longer metaphysical already included in the not-yet metaphysical?," Heidegger seems to have recmgnized the shaky foudations inherent in rnetaphysics. In Be- Zero and Inffnicy (p. 107), Libeskind hias quoted the above wrds of Heidegger's; and in his essay on Aldo Rossi's wrk, he appiies Heidegger's language to architecture itself: 'Rossi's profound wrk, his Theatre of the World, has dard to probe the fundamental question whether the 'no longerwof modern architecture actually &dongs to its very own 'not yet." See Wbeskinâ, "Deus ex Machlna'/'Machina ex Deo': Alda Rosi's Theatre of the Worlâ," p. 21.

65. See Nietzsche's The Bfrth of Tragedy (Tans. Walter Kauhann. New York: Random House, 1%). where the author theorizes the development of art throughout hismry as a constant dialectical tension be-n IWO ardstic impulses named as the ApoUinlan and the Monysian. Whereas the Apollinian is characterlzed by dream and the spirit of individuality, the ûionysian fs tepresented by a drunken ecstasy that is suggestive of a 'higher community" or a 'primordial unity" binding our lives togéther as a univerd one.

66. Forster, 'Chamber Works From the Work Chamber of Daniel Wbeskind," p. 10.

67. See Peter Eisenman, 'Vbions Unfolding: Architecture in the Age of Electronic Mediaw in Architectural Lkslgn 62 (September-Ocb6ber t 992). pp. 16-18.

68. The label 'Deconstructfvist? is surely a convenient toal for the categorizadon of such architecture, but once it btcomes an km, the architecture it names is institutionalized, snrpidly imitateâ, and then rendered impotent in the face of the public. Remaining silent regarding the exhibition that took place at the the Museum of Modem Art in New York, endtled 'Deconstructivism" and co-curated by Philip Johnson and Mark Wigley, 1 will instead refer the reader to the catalogue produced by Johnson and Wigley, Deconstmcdvist Archftecture (New York: The Museum of Modem Art, 1988).

69. Wbeskind, *Symbol and Interpretation," in Benneen Zero and Innniry: Selected Profects in Architecm.n= p. 29.

70. Ubeskind, 'The House Without Wails,' in Art and Design 6 ( March-April 1990). p. 59.

7 1. See Linda Dairymple Henderson, The Fowch Mmension and Non-Euclidean Gmmetry h Modern An (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983).

72. See Craig Aécock, 'Conventionalism in Henri Poincaré and Marcel Duchamp" in Art journal (Fall 19841, pp. 249-258. 73. ~uotedin Li beskind, Wnorigind Signs,' in Chamber Works: ~rchitecturd Medirrtions on Themes fbm Heraclitus, p. 4.

74. 1 wuld argue chat the painter Barnen Newman can also be considemi an architect of space, whether we consider his paintings, sculptures or architectural design. The zig- zagging cor-ten steel sculpture ZhZum 1 or the unreallzed design for a Synagogue, not to mention the paintings themselves, envelop us in an architectural space that has ken referred to by one critic as a feeling of 'total space." See Ahynne Mackie, 'Barnen Newman,' in MT* The Theory in Practice (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989). pp. 15û-167.

75. buis 1. Kahn, 'Form and Design," in Voice of America 1960, page udcnown.

76. It is interesting to note that Ubeskind, apart from makhg prose poems, drawings, collages, sculptures, installations, machines and buildings, has also coordinatcd a city arc project in Groningen (1990), designed a foUy in Osaka for the International Garden and Greenery Exposition ( 1990), curated exhibitions in the United States, Europe and Japan, and built stage sets for theatre productions in Nürnberg and Copenhagen (e-g., Cladsaice Theatre, Copenhagen 1994).

77. Lissitzky, 'A and Pangeometry 1925," in EI Lissitzky - Life, Letters, Texts (Ed Sophie Lissitzky-Kuppers bndon: Thames and Hudson Ltd, 1%8), p- 352.

78. See Heidegger, 'The Qwstion Concerning Ttxhnology," in Basic Wntings, pp- 139- 2 12.

79. John Hejduk, "Cross Over.* in Bemeen Zero and lnfinity: Selected Pmjects in Architecture, p. 104.

80. Libeskind 'Fishing from the Pavement (Architecture Perfected),' in Counrenign (imdon: Academy Editions, 199l), p. 93.

81. Wim Wenders, 'The Berlin Ciw Forum: Jacques Derrida, Kurt Forster and Wim Wenders," in Architectural Design 62 (November-December 1992). p. 52.

82. For this reference, I mut credit Kojin Karatani, whose discussion of Alexander's essay in chapter 4, 'The Naturai City." of Architecture as Metaphoc Language* Number, hhey (Trima Sabu Kohso. Ed. Michael Speaks. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1995) was remarkably helpfui in this context

83. See Libeskind, "Deconstructing the Cal1 to Order," in World Cities: Berlin (Ed. Alan Balfour and Maggie Toy. inridon: Academy Mitions, 1995). pp. 35-37.

84. Libeskind, 'Alexanderplatr,' in Traces of the Unburn (Michigan: College of Architecture and Urban Planning, 19951, p. 29.

85. See Libeskind, Traces of the Unbom.

86. Libesfind, 'Berlin Projet: 'City Edge Cornpetition,*" in hhi~tureand Urbanism 2 15 (August 1988), p. 136.

87. Libeskind, 'Berlin Project 'City Edge Cornpetition,'" p. 136. 88. 1 am tndebted to Kun Forster for his cornparison of the "Clty Mge" project with Le Corbusier's Unité. See Forster, 'Symbolic, Silent and Fin& Libeskind's Architectural Machines," in Architecmre and Urbanism 2 15 (August 1988). p. 80.

89. Libeskind, "'Deus ex MachinaV'Machina ex Deo': Aido Rossi's Theatre of the World," p. 3.

90. Libeskind, 'Bertin Projecc 'City Edge Compeddon,'" p. 136.

9 1. Forster, *Symbolfc, Silent and Rnal: Li beskind's Architectural Machines, p. 80.

92. The ground in one of the models for the Jewish exte!nsion is likewise marked by text; in this case, it is the names of Berliners who became vicdms of the Holocaust, found in two large kirsnow located in Bonn, that wre printed on the flat surface of the model.

93. Libeskind, 'Berlin Project: 'City Edge Cornpetidon,'* p. 136.

94. Libeskind, 'Still iife with Red Predicdons," in eeCommcdon: Omnibus Volume (Ed. Andreas Papacidis, Catherine Cooke and Andrew Benjamin. London: Academy Edidons, 1989), p. 192.

95. QJloted in Kahn* p. 202.

96. See Wbeskind, 'Aîexanderplatt," in T.esof the Unborn, p. 23.

97. Meyer Schapiro, 'On Perfection, Coherence, and Unit' of Form and Content," in Theory and Phifosophy of Arc Selected Papen (New York: George Braziller, 1994). pp. 3349.

98. See Gilles Ikleuze, "Rhizome Versus Tree," in The Deleuze Reader (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993). pp. 27-36.

99- Cffles Deleuze, The fil& Leibniz and the hmque, p. 30.

100. Libeskind and Donald L ûates, 'A Conversation Be~nthe Unes with Daniel Libeskind, " in Daniel Ubeskind 1 987-1 996 (Madrid El Croquis, 1997). p. 2 1 .

101. On the history of the Berlin museum, see Mark CI Taylor, 'Not kchitectum," in Nom (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993), pp. 122-165.

102. Libeskind, 'Projective Phonedcs," in Art and Oesign (January-February1992). p. 47.

103. Ubeskind, 'Be- Method, Idea and Desire," p- 18.

104. Walter Benjamin, 'Theses on the Philosophy of History," in Iflumhadons (Trans. Hamy Zohn. Ed Hannah Arendt New York: Schocken Books, 19681, pp. 259-260.

105. I am thinking of Francis Fukuyama's The End of History and the Last Man (New York: The Free Press, 1992). where the author posits the realizadon of the liberal state and absolute krtowledge, embodied by late capftaiism and the Information age respectively. 106. tyotard, The Differend. Phrases in Dispute See also 'The Posnnodern Condition,' in Alter Philasophy= End or Transformation (ELKenneth Baynes, James Bohrnan and Thomas Mdartfiy. Cambridge Mi?' Press, 1988). pp. 67-94.

107. Gianni Vattirno, The End of Modedty= Nihiiism and Henneneudcs in Post-modern Culture (Trans. Jon R Snyder. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1988).

108. iibeskind, Book 3, Notes for a Lecture Nouvdks Impmssions d9Architecnue,page unknown.

109. We cannot know whetiier Wbeskind was influenceci by Newman's work, but Our cornparison of this painting with Wbeskind's drawtng Ls not arbitrary. Apart from the banal fact that both Libeskind and Newman wrked wfthin the same spiritual tradition of Judaism, 1 wuld argue that kwman's zig-zagging sbeei sculpture ZIm Zum 1 ( 1969) or his unreaiized design for a Synagogue ( 1963) bear a formal and spiritual affinity with Libeskind's design for the Jewish extension.

110. See Thomas B. Hess, Barnetc N- (NewYork: The Museum of Modern Art, 197 1). Hess' theological interpretadon may seem outdated dencompared with recent accounts such as Yve-Main Bois' in Painting as Madel (Cambridge: MIT Press, 19%). but 1 think that Hess' reading is still viable given the allusive titles that Newman assigneci CO his wrk (Le., TZie Beginnfng, 7kCcnnmand Tbe Word TheMbment, Horizon fighc, Shinhg Fod, Be, etcetera). As an aside, it is interesthg to note that Libeskind himself has invoked the concept of rsh-tsum in one of hfs more incomprehensible writings, saying that we ought to write sum backwards. Mark C. Taylor has also made reference to the idea in his essay on Libeskind's work, 'Not-Architecture," p. 159.

11 1. See Lyotatd, 'Newman: The Instant" pp. 78-88, writden in memory of Hess.

1 12. Libeskind, Book 3, Noces for a Lecture Nouveiies Impressions d'Archfcecture, page unknowh

113. Ubeskind, 'Between Methoâ, Idea and Desire" p. 27.

114. See Eisenman, 'Post/El Cards: A Repiy to Jacques Derrida,' in Assemblage 12 (August 1990). pp. 14-1 7.

115. Eisenman, 'Post/El Car& Reply to Jacques Derrida," p. 16.

11 6. See Hsenman, 'The Affects of Slngularity." in Architectural Design 62 ( November- December 1992). pp. 4345.

1 17. Libeskind, 'Fishing from the Pavement (Architecture Perfected),"p. 57.

118. Mies van der Rohe, 'Bdd Beaudfuliy and Pracdcdy! Stop thls Cold Funcdonaltty," in Duisburger Generalanzeiger 49 (Sunday,January 26, 1930), p. 2; reprinted in Fritz Neumeyer, The Ness Wod: Mies van der Rohe on the Building An (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1991), p. 307.

119. Mies van der Rohe, 'We Stand at the Turning Point of Time: Building Art as the Expression of Spiritual Decisions," in Innendekoratfoa 39 ( 1928), p. 262; reprinted in Frit2 Neumeyer, p. 304. 120. ~ietzsche,'Thus Spoke Zarattiustra/' in The Portable Nietzsche (Trans. and Ed. Wdter Kaufmann. New York: Penguin Books, 1982), p. 270.

12 1. Quoted in Graham Parkes, Composing the Souk Reaches of Nietzsche's Psychoiogy (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1994), p. 167. The passage from which this quotation was extrac ted can be found t n Nietzsche's Werke, Kritische Studienausgabe (Colli and Mondnari, 188 1 ), p. 16 1.

122. See Jürgen Habermas, The Past as Future (Trans. and eii, Max Pensky. LincoIn: The Universiv of Nebraska Press, 1994). which 1s a series of intenrtem conducted by MichaeI Haller on the soci~iiticalproblems Facfng Germany in the aftermath of reunification.

123. For an interesthg disrussion of this topic, see Peter Nilson, 'A Labyrtnth in Which We Are Al1 Lost - Some thoughts on cime and the universe," in On Kama. Condnuity/Mscondndty 1 963-79 (St~~kho~Modema Museet, 1980),pp. 11-36.

124. Sir A. S. Eddington, The Nature of the Physical Worfd (Cambridge: The University Press, 1932). p. 48.

126. Benjamin, 'Theses on the Phîiosophy of History," p. 263.

127. On this point, see Lyotard's Wgn of Histoty," in Post-Stnrcturalfsm and the Qpestfon of HIsmv (EL brek AWdge. Geoff Bennington, and Robert Young- Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 19871, pp. 162-182.

128. Libeskind, 'Fishing from the Pavement (Architecture Perfected)," p. 53.

129. See Libeskind, "Traces of the Unboni," p. 33.

130. Caroline Wiedmer, 'Designhg Mernories: II. A Jewish Museum in Berlin," in Alphabet Cicy Magazine: FMsm and its Ghoss 415 (December l99S), p. 15.

131. Libeskind, Book 3, Notes for a Lecture: NouveUes Impressions d'Architecture, page unknown,

132. Libeskind, 'Between the Lines: The Jewish Extension to the Ceman Museum in BerUn," p. 65.

133. The mernorial consists of a long white board, the entire surface of which has been cwedin minute and üiegible traces of scrawied hand-writing. In the bottom right-hand corner, Ubeskind has used nuts and bolts to fasten a monograph on the wrk of Mies van der Rohe to the surface; it 1s opened to a frontispitze photograph of the architect Cutting diagonally across the portrait is a iinear rdbeam held out from the picture plane by metal rods; the image prefîgures the horizontal skyscraper of the Berfin Wty Edge* Projecq a picture of which is included in the construction. At the other end of the red beam is a cluster of sharb glueci down to the boatd; the surfaces of those sha& have been inscribed with drawings that appear rernarkably similar to those found in Cliamber Works There being no center at which Our eyes may rest, perhaps the assemblage is an index of the disappearance of centraiity in architecture and the soul. In this hypothetical situation, ~ieare left with the alternatives of asymmetry, disjuncdon and the labyrinth. 134. Qloted in Parkes, p. 16û. See also Nietzsche's The hwnof Momlng, p. 169.

135. Libeskind, 'Projective Pbonetics," p, 48.

136. SeAssemblage 12 (19911, p. 26.

137. Libeskind, 'An Architectural Design Interview,' in Architectural Design 60 (September-October 19901, p. 17. See also Libeskind, 'The Jewish Museum," in Traces of the Un&= p. 37. 1 qwte: '1 have sought to complete the Act III libretto in architectural form in the rhythm of the void"

138. Libeskind, Book 3, Notes for a Lecm Nouveiies Impress30ns d'Architecture, page unkrmwn,

139. Pamela Young, 'Glving Shape to the Holocaust Architecture," in 7'he Globe and Mail (Thwsday, January 18, 1996). p. m.

140. Just as the Jewish extension keps hisaorical wunds open in face of a normative forgeduines, so too does this design. If realized it wuld surely strike painful chords ln the coiledve memory. What libeskind calls the Hope Indsfon, defining the asymmetrical axk of his plan, symbolizes a pecuiiar act of ethid violence upon the social and palidcal topography of the new Cermany. Eschauhg monuments and mernorials that are impotmt in their air of officiality, he cuts the site open, rnaking a clearing for remembrance, mourning and hope. This Hope fndsion is to prwide pubiic and private spaces for health and employment centers, a chapel, city archives and conference rooms, not to mention a serks of studios for artisans of various disciplines and talents. The Hope Incision, dong wkh the many criss-crossing lines represcndng future canals, results in a dlting of the former axis such that the Beaux-Arts plan of the camp, symbolizing pHFer and the calculadng machinery of inhurnanity, is displaced and a new geographical orientation revealed. The SS barracks, the Villa Ekhe where the camp commander resided, and Himmler's headquarters are al1 integrami into the site. WhUe the Villa Eiche will house a library, the other buildings are intended to pmgrammatically decay into ruins over a spdfled period of the. Libeskind's reconsecradon of the land awaits the dam of a new %mmingm that wiH forever remember the darkness that once fell upon this site- However, since his proposal neglected the program stipulated by the mayor of Brandenbwg and the munidpal cornmittee then acting as the jury for the compedtion, it was only awai-ded an honorary prize. The program specified that 10 000 units of housing were to be constructeci on this site, and that the former SS barracks were to be renovated and rendered funcdonal as public offices. Repulsed by this irresponsible manner of deaiing with a such a problematic context as the grounds of a former concentration camp, Libeskind disregardeci the ptogram altogetfier, attempdng to oppose the institutional, commercial and normalizing Impulses of the government After the results of the compedtion were amounceci, Likkind and h3s wife Nha urgd the people of Oranienburg to protest this erasure of history., now the gwernment of Brandenburg is re-thinking its earlier plans for the site, with a view to incorporadng Llbeskind's proposal.

141. David FarrelI Krell, "1 Made It on the Verge: A ktter from David Farrell Krell," in Assemblage 12 (1991). p. 56.

142. See James € Young's The Texture of Memory= Holucaust Mernorials and Meaning (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993 ). 144. Libeskind quo- 'in jeffrey Kipnis, 'Though to My Knolwedge,* In Restructuring Architectural Theory, p. 108.

145. See Francis A. Yates, 'The An of Memory in GmMemory and the Soul," in Art of Memolgy (bndon: Routledge and Kegam Paul, 1 %6), pp. 2747.

146. Hejduk, 'Cross Over," in Between Zero and Infinity: Select& Projecrs in Architecture, p. 104.

147. Libeskind, 'Three ksons of Architecture,* p. 134.

148. Llbeskind, 'Three Lessons of Grchlaecnrre,' pp. 133-1 34.

149. Ubeshd, 'Architecture Intermundium,' in Resbucturing Architectural Theory, p. 115.

15 1. Libeskhâ, 'Architecture intermundium," p. 1 15.

152. Libeskind, 'Unoriginal Signs," in Chamber Works Architectural Meditadons on 73emes hmHeraclitus, p. 4.

153. Qloted In Kahn, p. 237.

154. Kipnts, 'Though to My Knohedge," p. 109.

155. Kipnis, "Though to My Knolwedge,' p. 109. Kipnis, of course, does not suggest that the machines were intended by the architect to be sacriflced In a fire; rather, he invokes Sigmund Freud's theory of mourning (and melancholia) and implies that the machines were dways already lost to their maker at the theof their assemblage. The argument is rather 'far-fetched," as Kipnis confesses himself, but Libeskind's hguage of commentary on the machines is used to support the author's wild claims. Furthennote, the reference to Freud does not, in Kipnis' mina rule out the role played by fate and çosmic necessfty in the destruction of these metaphysid instnunents.

156. Mark C. Taylor has also noted the sacrifida1 overtones of red in the tine of Flre. See his 'Not-Architecture," p. 126.

157. Ussfstzky, 'Proun - Not wrld visions but world realky 1922," in El Lfssiaky - Life, Letters, Tex- p. 343.

158. Libeskind, 'Une of Fire, Milan 1988," in Amhicectwd Design 59 (January- February 199û), p. 38.

159. Libeskind, Book 3, Notes for a Leclme: Nouvelles Impdons d'Amhitecture, page unknown,

160. LibesWnd, Book 3, Notes for a Lecture= Nouvek Impressions d'hrhitecture, page unknbwh 16 1. Taylor, 'Not-Architecture," p. 128.

162, For a description of Hausmann's idea for a cabaret performance, see Altan Greenberg, 'The Dadaists and the Cabaret as Form and Forum." in ~ûimensions(Ed. Stephen C. Foster. AM Arbar: UMI Research Press, 1985). p. 33. Also, for Hausmann's philosophical and spirituai views, see Timothy O. Benson, 'The Funcdonal and the Convendonal in the Dada Philosophy of Raoul Hausmann," in &&/Dimensions, pp. 13 1- 163.

163. For a discussion of the inexpressMe nature of Auschwitz as it haunts the art of ow time, see Mark S. Roberts, 'Lyotard and Art 'After Auschwitz'," in Art + Text 32 (Autumn 1989). pp. 12 1-1 24. More specifically, see Lyotard, Heidegger et 9es juifs' ( Paris: Éditions Gaiilée, 1988).

164. Friedrich Holderiin, Hymns and Fragments (Trans. Richard Sieburth. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 19841, p. 223. 1. Daniel iibeskind. Plan of the Jewish Extension to the Berfin Museum. 1989. Collage. Courtesy EL Cmquis. 2. Daniel libeskind. Jeuish ktension. 1989. FIodel. Courtes)- Acadtm y Edi tions- 3. Danid Ubeskind. The underground axes, discontinuow void, Holocaust tower, E-TA. Hoffmann garden and maircase of the Jewfsh Extension, 1989. MdeL Cowtesy El Cmqtlis. 4. Daniel Ubesltind Fa-de of the Berlin Museum from Lhdensîrasse, with the Jewish Extension under construction. 1996. Berün, Germany. Authof s photogmph. 5. Daniel Libeskind. View of the construction of the Jewish Extension fmm south, with i~olocausttower and E. T. A Hoffmann Garden in foreground- 1996. Berlin. Cerrnan). Counesy Eï Croquis. 6. Daniel UbesLind. Viev of the conuruction of the Jewish Exoension fmm the east with the Berb M-m in the bc4~und.1996. Balin. Cermariy. Author's photograpb. 7. Daniel Libeskind Ossification.fmm hatomy's Melaacholy. 198 1. Drawing. Courtes. Daniel Libeshd. 8. Daniel Uùeskind. interior view of the Jewish Extension. 1989. Working modeL Courtesy Academy Gditions.

9. Daniel Ubesldnd. interior view of the Jewish Extension. 1989. WorkLng model. Courtesy Atademy Wdons. 1 O. Daniel Li hes kin d. Vcrtic-al V. frcim Chamhcr \\'orks: flrchi tcï-tural .Vcditations on Thcmcs from Iier~c-litus.108.4. Counesy Daniel LibesLind.

12. Daniel LibeaLiad ~cho-CybemeticP~~j~doa of Berlin. 1987. Computer-gen~tedcoüage, Caurtesy Daniel Ubeskind. 13. Daniel Libeskind The Jewish Extension to the Berîin Museum. 1989. Conceptual Drawing. Counesy Dzniel Ubeskhû. 14. Daniel Libeskind The ETA Hoffmann Garden of the JeExtension. 1989. Working modeL Courtesy AcanPrlly Eûitions.

15. Daniel UbesIdnd. The underground axes of the Jewish Extension, with roads leading to the staircase and garden. 1989. Working modeL Courtesy Academy Edidona

17. Daniel Libeskind heof Fire 1988. Mixeci-media Ïnstallation (dismandeci). Courtesy El Croquis. Adcock. Craig. uConventionalism in Henri Poincaré and Marcel Duchamp." Art journal (FaU 1984): 249-258.

Aiien, Sranley. 'iibeskind's Ractice of Laughter." Assemblage 12 ( 1991):20- 25. Arakawa. Shusaku and MadeUne Gins. Architecture: Sites of Reversible Desciny (Archiiecf ural Experimen ts after A usch witz-Hiroshima). iondom Academy aditions, 1994.

Bai, Mieke and Norman Bryson. ~Semioticsand Art Hist~ry.~Art BuLleein U3 (Jw1991): 174-208. Bates, Donald. 'A Conversation Be- the Unes with Daniel Libeskind." Danfel Libesklrid 1987-1 996. Madrid: El Croquis. 1997. 6-29. Belting. Ham. Tbe hd of the Hlstos. of Art? Trans. Christopher S. Wood. Chicago: Universisr of Chicago Ress, 1987. Benjamin, Andrew. uDerrida, Architecture and Philosophy." Architecmral Design 58 (March-April 1988): 8-11.

Benjamin, AndteW. uEisemmm and the Housing of Tradition." Tlre Mord Art Jolournal12 (Jan- 1989): 47-52. Benjamin, Walter. ïïfumina&ions. Trans. Harry Zohn. M. Hannah Arendt. New York: Schocken Books, 1%8. Benjamin, Walter. 'One-Way Street." Refîectlons: Essays, Aphorisms, Autoblographical Wrltings. Trans. &und Jephcott. Ed. Peter Demea. New York Harcourt Ekace Jovanovitch,Inc.. 1978. 61-94. Bernstein, J.M. The Fate of Art= Aesthetic Alienation hmKant to Demida and Adma Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992. Bloomer, Jennifer. 'Abodes of Theory and Flesh: Tabbles of Bower." Assemblage 17 ( 1992): 6-29. Bninette, Peter and David WU. 'The Spatial Arts: An interview with Jacques Derrida," Decoastniction and the Visual Arts. Ed. Peter Brunette and David Wds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 199s. 9-32. Bürger, Peter. Th- of ohe Avant-Garde. Trans. Michad Shaw. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984. Casey, Edward. Spirlt and Souk Essays in Philosophical Psychology. Dallas: Spring Pubîications, 199 1. Cobeio, José Luis Conxaiez. "Architecture and its Double." Daniel Libeskind l98%N%. Madrid: El Croquis, 1997. 30-38. Cook. Peter and Rosie Uewellyn-Jones. 'Daniel Libeskind." New Spin't in Architecture. NewYork Rinoiï, 1991.120-123. Crowther, Paul. Les Imma tériaux and the Postmodem Sublime." Critical Aesthetics and Pbsanodernism Monk Clariendon Press, 1993. 162-176. Crowther, Paul. 'Art, Architecture and Self-Consdousness: An Exploration of Hegel's Aesthetic." Journal of Pbilosopby and the Visual Arts 2 ( 1990): 65-73.

Cunis, William J. R Modem Architecture Since 1900. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 19%. Dai Co, Francesca Figures of Archftecnve and Tnoughc German Arcbitectu~ Culntre l88O-IWO. New York RinoU, 1990. Day, Christopher. Places of rhe Souk Anhirectum and Envimameatal Design as HdhgArt. London: Aqiiarian/Thorwns, 1993. Deieuze, Gilles. 'Rhizome Versus Tree." The Meuze Reader. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993. 27-36. Deleuze, GWes. The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque. Trans. Tom Conley. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993. Demda. Jacques. E~~dHusserl's Origin of Geometry: An Inrroductfon. Trsuls. John P. Leavy, Jr.. M. David B. AUisoa New York Nicolas Hays. Ltd, 1976. Derrida, Jacques. uDifférance.n Margins of Philosophy. Trans. Alan Bass. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982. 1-27. Dwida, Jacques. The Tnith fn Painting. Tram. Geoff BennLngton and Ian Mc- Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Demida, Jacques. Of Spin't: Heidegger and the Qiesrfon. Tram. Geoffrey Benniagton and hchel Bo*. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989. Derrida, Jacques. 'Why Peter Eisenman Writes Such Good Books." Restnicturing Architecturai Theory. Ed. Marco Dani and Catherine Ingraham. Evanston, IUinois: Northwestem University Press. 1989. 99-105.

Derrida, Jacques. 'A Letter to Peter Eisenman." Assemblage 12 (August 1990): 7-13. Eckhart, Meister. Meister Eckhart: A Modern T'dation. Trans. Raymond Beniard Blakney. New York: Harper & Brothers Pubiishers, 1941.

Eddington, Arthur S. Tne Nature of the Physt*cai World Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1932, Usenman, Peter. 'Representations of the Ilmit: Writing a 'Not-Architecture'." Chamber Work Arrhifectrval Medftations on Themes hmHeracUtus. Lon&= Architectural Assodati~n~1983. 6-8. Eisenman. Peter. 'Misreading." Hoczses of Ca&. Oxford: Oxford University ~SS.1987.167-186, Eisenman, Peter. 'Post/El Cardr A Reply to Jacques Derrida." Assemblage U (August 1990): 14-17. Eisenman, Peter. 'Visions Unfolding: Architecture in the Age of Electronic Media" Architecnual Deslga 62 (September-October 1992): 16-18. Eisenman. Peter. "The Affects of Singularity." Arclzitecnual Design 62 (November-December 1992): 4345. Forster, Kurt W. 'Chamber Works From the Work Chamber of Daniel Libeskind." Chamber Works: Architectual Medftadons on Themes hmHeracUms London: Architectural Association. 1983. 9-1 1. Forster, Kurt W. uSymboiic. Silent, and Final: Libeskind's Architectural Machines." Architecture and UrbaPfsm21 (August 1988):78-83. Fukuyama, Francis. The End of HiJtmy and the Last Man. New York Free Press, 1992. Gadamer, HansGeorg. Philosophical Hermeneudcs Tram and M. David E. Linge. Berkeley University of Caïifornia Press, 1976. Goethe, Joharin Wolfgaiig von. 'On German Architecture (1772)." German Emys in Art Hlstory. M. Gest Schiff. New York Continuum, 1988. 33- 40. Habermas, J(lra~.'Modemity - An Incomplete Projectw Postmodernfsm: A Reader. M. Thomas Docherty. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.98-109. Habermas, Jûrgen. The Pasr as Fuiure. Trans. Max Pensky. M. Max Pensky. Lincoin: UniverJicy of Nebraska Press. 1994. Hegel. Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. LnCFoductory Lectures on Aesthetics. Trans. Bernard Bosanquet. London: PenguLn Books, 1993. Heidegger, Martin. Basic Writings. Tram. and M. David Farrelï Krell. New York: fiarpercoilins, 1993. 139-212. Hejduk, John. "Cross Over." Between Zero and Lnfiaify: Selected Projects in Architecture. New York Rizzoü, 1981. 104. Hejduk, John. 'The Albatross Screeched." Chamber Works: Architectural Meditatlons on Themes from Heracfitus. London: Architecturai Association, 1983. 12. Henderson, Linda Dalrymple. The Fourth Dimension and Non-EucUdean Ceornets. in ModerP Art. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983.

Hess, Thomas. Barnett Newman. New York Museum of Modern Art, 197 1- Hirsch. Rabbi W. Rabblnlc Psyclio10gy: Belfefs About the Soui in Rabbinie LIteratute of t&e Talmudfc Mod iondm Mwarcî Col&ton, 1947. HOlderW. Friedrich. Hymns and Fragments. Trans. Richard Sieburth. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 19û4. Holiier, Denis. Against Architecnue: The Writings of Georges Bataiîle. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1989. Jlarombek, Mark 'Ready-made Traces in the Sand: The Sphinx. the Chimera, and Other Mscontents in the Practice of Theory." Assemblage 19 (1992):73-75. Jacks. Charles. 'The Rbetoric of Neo-Modemism - A Pictoriai Essay." The New Modems: Fmm Late to Neo-Modemism. New York: Rizzoii, 1990. 268-269. Johnson. PWp and Mark Wigley. Decons&mctivisr Architecrure. New York: Museum of Modem An, 1988. Johnson, Phiîip and Mark Wigley. 'Daniel Ubeskind." Deconstructivist Architecture. New York Museum of Modern Art, 1988. 34-45. Kahn. Charles H. The M and Thought of Heraclihis: An kütion of the fragments with &rmsladonand cornmen tary. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979.

Kahn, buis 1. 'Form and Design." Voice of America ( 1960): pages unknown. Kandinsky, Wassily. Concernir>g the Spiriruai in Art Trans. M.T.H. Sadler. New York: Dover Publications, 1977. Kant, Immanuel. The Criaique of Judgmeat. Trans. James Creed Meredith. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1% 2. Karatani, Kojin. Architecture as Metaphor: Language, Number, Money. Trans. Sabu Kohso. W. Michal Speaks. Cambridge: MïT Press, 1995. Kierkegaard, Seren. Fear and TrembJl&g/Reperidoa M and Trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong. New Jersey: Princeton University Ress, 1983.

Kipnis, Jeffkey. 'Though to My Knolwedge." ResPucturing Architectural Theory. Ed. Marco Dani and Catherine Ingraham. Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 1989. 106-113. Kipnis, Jeffrey. 'Forms of Irrationality." Sua tegies in Architectural Thinldng. M. John Whiteman, Jeffrey Kipnis and Richard Burdea Cambriâge: Press. 1992. Kipnis, Jeffrey. 'Towards a New Architecture." ArcliltecW Design 63

Klotz, leinrich. The HIstory of Pasmodem Amhitecnire. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1988. Knesl, John. 'Accidental Classicists: Freed in Washington, Libeskind in BerUn." Assemblage 16 ( 1991):98-101.

Krell, David FarreU. '1 Made It on the Verge: A Letter from David Farreii KRU." Assemblage 12 (1991):52-57. Kuhn, Thomas S. Tlie S~ntctrtreof Scienriffc Revdubions Chicago: Universic of Chicago Re=. 1970. Lawlor, Robert. 'Pythagorean Number as Form. Color, and Light." Rediscovering %cd Science. Ed. CMstopher Bamford. Edinburgh: F10ris Books, 1994. 187-212. Libeskind, Daniel. "Deus ex Machfna'/'Machina ex Deo': Aldo Rossi's Theatre of the World." Oppositions 21 (1980):3-21. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Symbol and interpretation." Between Zero and LaAnlty: Selected Projects in AtcLu'tecture New York RizzoIi, 1981. 27-29. Libeskiad, Daniei. 'End Space." &ticneen Zero and lafinlty: Selected Ptojects in Archftecture, NewYork: RJzzoli, 1981. 80-81. Libeskind. Daniel. 'Unoriginal Signs." Chamber Works: Architectrrrd Meâitations on Themes fiom Heraclims. London: Architectural Assodatio~1983. 4-5. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Peter Eisenman and the Myth of Futiiity." Harvard Arclzitecnual Review 3 (Winter 1984): 61. Ubeskind Daniel. Book 1, Ardrltecnue. Milan: Electa Spa, 1988. Libeskinâ, Daniel, Book 2, WorkF. Milan: Recta Spa. 1988. Libeskind, Daniel. Book 3, Notes for a Lecture: Nouvelles Impressions d'Architecture Milan: Eîecta Spa, 1988. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Personal Statement, Milan, 1988." Architecture and Urbanism 215 (August 1988): 131. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Three Lessons of Architecture." Architecture and Urbanism 215 (August 1988): 133. Libesland, Daniel. 'Milan Triennale Projectw Atcfütecture and Urbanism 215 (August 1988): 135. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Architecture In termundium." Resuuc turing Architectural Theory. Ed. Marco Dani and Catherine Ingraham. Evanston, Illioois: Northwestem University Press, 1989. 114-121. Libeskind, Daniel. 'S dl1 Me witb Red Predictions." Deconstrucdon: Omnfbus Volume. Ed. Andreas Papadakis, Catherine Cooke and Andrew Benjamin. Londo9: Academy Mitions, 1989. 192. Libeskind, Daniel. "The Surface Mut Me. A Roof." Deconscructloa: Omnibus Volume Ed. Andreas Papadakis, Catherine Cooke and hdrew Benjamin. Londoa Academy Wdons, 1989. 193. Libeskind, Daniel. 'The Four Texts The Surd of Architecture The Ab of Writing." Peconstruction: Omnibus Volume. Ed. Andreas Papadakis, Catherine Cooke and Anârew Benjamin. London: Academy Edidons, 1989. 194-195. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Berlin City me' Cornpetition." DecanstnicClon: Omnibus Volume. H. Andreas Papaciah, Catherine Cooke and Andrew Benjamin. London: Academy Fditiong 1989. 196-206. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Line of Fire, Milan 1988." Archftectwal Design 59 (January-February 1990): 38-39. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Micromegas and Collage Rebus." ArcMtecmal Desiga 59 (January-Febniary1990): 39.

Ubeskind. Daniel. The House Without Walls." Art and Design 6 ( March-April 1990): 58-59.

Libeskind, Daniel, 'Theamun Md." Art and Design 6 (March-April 1990): m. Libeskind, Daniel. "Between the Lines: The Jewish Extension to the German Museum in Berlin." Airhitechual Design 60 (Mardi-April 1990): 62-77. LibesWnd, Daniel. 'FoUy 9." The Japan Arrhitecr 65 (June 1990): 26. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Between the Unes." Architectutal Design 60 (Jdy-August 1990): 26-29. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Tate Gallery Mscussion." Architectural Design 60 (July- Libeslrind, Daniel. "The Annual Architectural Forum." Architec~dDesign 6û (July-August 1990): 4142. Libeskind, Daniel. "An Architectural Design Interview." Archirectu~al Design 6û (September-October 1990): 14-19. Libeskind, Daniel. "Fishing From the Pavement (Architecture Perfected)." Journal of P'osophy and t4e Visual Arts 2 ( 19%): 4943. Libeskind, Danid. "Betiireea Method, Idea and Desire." Lhmus (October 1991): 17-28. Libeskind, Daniel. 'Ober den Linden." Amhitecnval Design 6 1 (July-August 1991):6469. Libeskind, Daniel. "Be- the Unes." Architecture in Transition: Between Deconscnrction and New Modernism. Munith: Prestel, 1991. 63-72. Libeskind, Daniel. Corntersign Loadox Academy Edidons, 1991. Libeskind. Daniel. 'Academy Forum: Theory and Experimentation." Architectufaf Dedgn 62 (Nwember-December 1992): 41. Libeskind Daniel. Wbition and Set Designs." Architectural Design 64 (November-Decernber 1994): 4347. Libeskind, Daniel. "Mourning.' Arrangement of the Sachsenhausen concentration camp." L'architeifura 46566 (Juiy-August 1994): 549. Libeskind, Daniel. "The Tenth Muse.' Wiesbaden Office Cornplex." L 'architemua 46566 (July-August 1994): 540. Libeskind, Danid. "Traces of the Unborn." Daniel UbesWnd, 1995 Raoul WaUenberg Lecture. Michigan: Coiiege of Architecture and Urban Planning, 1995. Ubeskind, Daniel. u~ons~tingthe Caiî to Order." World Cities: Berlin. M. Aian Balfour and Maggie Toy. London: Academy Editions, 1995. 35 -3 7. Libeskind, Daniel. uPotsdamerplats: Master Plan." World Clties: Ber. M. Aian Balfour and Maggie Toy. London: Academy Mitions, 1995. 113. Libeskind, Daniel. uAlexanderplatz." World Cities: BerUn. M Aian Balfour and Maggie Toy. London: Academy Mltions. 1995. 35-37. Libeskind, Daniel. 'On the Project for Sachsenhausen." ibmus 783 (brie 19%): 54-56.

Lissi~ky-Klippers,Sophie. El Lissitzky - Life, Lenen, Tex& London: Thames and Hudson Ltd, 1968. Lyotard, Jean-François and T. Chaput. Les Immatériawr. Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1985. Lyotard, Jean-François. "Complexity and the Sublime." Postmodemism ICA Documen&s4. London: Institute of Contemporary Arts, 1986. Lyotard, JeamFrançois. 'The Sign of History." Post-SQucnuaüsm and the Question of History. M. DereL Attridge, Geoff Benaington and Robert Young. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987. 162- 182. Lyotard, Jean-François. The Znhumsn: Retlections on The. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1988. 78-87. Lyotard, Jean-Francois. The Mnereatk Phrases in Dispute Trans. G. van den Abeele. Manchester Manchester University Press, 1990.

Lyotasd. JeamFrançois. uResence.w The Language of Art History. Trans. Marian Hobson and Tom Cochran. Ed. Saiim Kemal and Ivan Gaskell. Cambrtdge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. 11-34. Mackie, Aiwynne. 'Bamett Newman." WT&: The Th- In Pracfice. New York Columbia University Ress, 1989. 15CH67. Moore. Rowan. 'Why Would Daniel Libeskind Change the V 6r A?" The Ddy Telegraph (7June 19%). Nancy. Jean-Luc. The Birtb To Presence. Trans. Brian Holmes. Stanford: Stanford University Press. 1993.

Neumeyer, Fritz. The Mess Word: Mies van der Rohe on the Bddiag Art Tram. Mark Janombelc. Cambridge: MlT Press, 1991.

Nieesche, Friedrich. The Portable Nietzsche, Ijd Walter Kaufmann. New York The Viking Ress, 1982.

Nietzsche, Friedrich. 'The Birth of Tragedy." Phllosophical Issues in Art. Trans. Walter Kaufmann. M. Patricia Werhane. New Jersey: Prentice- Hdl, I~c., 1984. 319-328.

Nikon, Peter. 'A Labyrinth in which we are all lost: Some thoughts on Time aad the Universe." On Kawara: Contfnuity/Mscondnulty 1963-79. Tram. Keith Braclfieîd Stockhoh Moderna Museet, 1980. 1 1-3S.

Pallasms=i, Juhani. 'Images in the Libeskind Macroscqx." Be- Zero and Infinity: Seîected Projects in Architecture. New York: Rizzoli. 1981. 104. Panofsky, Erwin. Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism. New York: New Amencan iibrary, 1976. Parkes, Graham. Composing the Soul: Reaches of Nietzsche's Psychology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994.

Plato. Timaeus. Trans. John Warrington. London: Everynian's Library, 1965. Plato. Republic. Trans. Robert Waterfïeld. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993. Plotinus. 'The Idea of the Beautifui." PMosophical Isues io art. Ed. Patricia H. Wetfiane. New Jersey: Prentice-W, Inc., 1984. 345-351. Rajchman, John. 'Out of the Folci." Archltechual Design 63 (March-April 1993):61-63, Richter, Dagmar. "Spazieren in Berün." Assemblage 29 (Apirl 1996): 83.

Roberts, Mark S. 'Lyotard and Art 'After Auschwitz.'" Art + Text 3 2 ( Auhunn 1989):121-124. Romen, Meir. "A Constant Reminder." Art News 92 (April1993):23. Rossi, Aldo. 'Simply a Path." Chamber Works: Architectural Meditations on Themes hmHeracUtus. London: Architectural Association, 1983. 13- 15. RomTColin and Fred Koetter. Coilage City. Cambridge: MiT Press, 1983. Schapiro. Meyer. 'Ch Perfection, Coherence. and Unity of Form and Content." Theory and PMosophy of Arc Sefected Papen. New York: George Braziiier, 1994.

Taylor, Mark C. "Nuciear Architecture or.. .." Assemblage 11 ( April 1990): 7-2 1. Taylor. Mark C. Disfiguring: Art, Architecture, Religion. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992. Taylor, Mark C. "Not Architecture." Nots. Chicago: University of Chicago Pte=, 1993. 122-165. Thomsen, Christian W. Visionary Architecture: From Ba bylon to Virtual Redi ty. Munich: Prestel-Verlag , 1994. Tschumi, Bernard. "The Architecture of the Event." Archftec~alDesign 62 (January-February 1992): 25-27. Tschumi, Bernard. Architecm and Dlsjunction. Cambridge: MlT Press. 1996. Tzonis, Aiexander and riane Lefaivre. "Extension of the Berlia Museum with the Department of the Jewish Museum." Architecture in Eumpe Since 1968: Memory and Invendon. New York: koU,1992. 293293. Van Duzer, Lesiie. 'A Conversation with Nina Libesïdnd." Dfrneasions 10 (Febniary 1996): 2Cb29. Vanimo, Gianni. The End of Modemify: NWsm and Hermeneudcs in Post- modern Culture. Trans. Jon R. Snyder. Cambridge: Poiity Press, 1988. 79-89, Vatdmo, Gianni. "The End of Modemîty, The End of the Project? On Architecture and Phiiosophy." Journal of PnLlosophy and the Visual Arts 2 ( 1990): 74-77. Veseiey, Mbor. 'The Drama of the Endgame." Between Zero and Minisr Selected Pmjects io Architecture NewYork: RizzoU, 1981. 105. Vidler, Anthony. 'The Architecture of Ailusion: Notes on the Postmodern Subiime." Art Crfdcism2 ( 1985-86):6 1-69. Vidler, Anthony. The Architec~aîUncanny: Essays in the Modern Llnhomelye Cambridge: ha Ress, 1992. Vitmvius, Marcus V. Pollio. The Ten Books on Arcltecture. Trans. M. H. Morgan. New York: Dover Pubiicadons, 196û. Voltaire. Mcromegar Trans. W. Flemming. Great %ritala:Dedalus Ltd, 1989.

Von Simson, Otto. The Gochle Cathedral: Origins of GoMc Architecture and the Mdeval Concept of Ordm New York: Pantheon Books, 1956.

Wheelwright, Phüip. HeracUtus Rlnceton: Rinceton University Ress. 1959. White, Hayden. Metahlstory: The Historicai Imagina Pion in Nine teenth- Century Europe. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973. Wiedmer, Caroiine. 'Designhg Mernories: II. A Jewish Museum in Berlin." Afphabet City Magazine: Faasclhm and Its Ghosts 415 (December 1995): 15-19, Wigley, Mark. 'The Tramladon of Architecture: The Production of Babel." Strategies in ArchitecNal Thlnkfng. Ed. John Whiternan, Jeffrey Kipnis and Richard Burden, Cambridge: MIT Ress, 1992.

Wlgley, Mark. The Architecture of Deconstruction: Derrida's Haun & Cambridge: Press, 1993. Worringer, Wilhelm. Fonn in Gotbfc. Eü. Herbert Read. New York; Schocken Books, 1967. Worringer, Wilhelm. Abstraction and Empatùy: A Contribution to the Psychology of Style. Trans. Michael Buliock. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul Ltd., 1953. Yates, Francis A. "The Art of Memoxy in Greece: Memory and the Soul." Art of Mernom London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1966. 2747. Young, James E. The Texture of Memory: Holocaust Mernorials and M&g. New mven: Yale University Press, 1993. Young, Pamela uGiving Shape to the Holocaust: Ar~hitecture.~Tbe Globe and MaU (Thursday, January 18,1996):D5-D6. ______--. 'Six Opinions on What is SubUme in Art7 The Tig&s Eye 6 (DeCerinbeJ- 1948): 46-56.

ooI_o__-_- Modern Perspecdves in Western Art Hlstory: An Antbofogy of 20t&-cennuy Writings on the Visual Arts. M. W. Eugene Kleinbauer. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, hc., 1971.

_O-_.-.u- . After Philosophy: End or Transformation? Tram. Aian Bass. Ed. Kenneth Baynes. James Bohman and Thomas McCarthy. Cambridge: MïT Press, 1987.

-O-----.- Arcfzitectural Drawiligs of the Russian AvantGarde. New York: ~useumof Modem 1990.

O----u . 'The Books of Groningen." Azt adDesign 7 (January-February 1992): 6-95.

--CI-- . The Berlin City Forum: Jacques Derrida, Kurt Forster and Wlm Wenders." Archltecwal Desfgn 62 (November-December1992 ): 46-53. --. 'A Combinatorial Cosmology of the Contemporary City 'The Books of Groningen.'" lcl tercommunicarion 2 (August 1992) .

-___-_O-__ Posmiodernism: A Reader. Ed. Thomas Docherty. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993,

~o__-o_o--. 'The Spatial Arts: An Interview with Jacques Derrida." Decons&rucdonand &&eVisual Arts. Ed. Peter Brunette and David Wills. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1994.

._..-O-__- . Chora 1: Interoals in the PhUosophy of Architecture. M. Aiberto P#rezGomez and Stephen Parceli. Montreal: McGU-Qtieens Universis> Press, 1994. ------. Invisible Catbedrals: The Ekpressionst Art History of wilh* Worringer. Ed. Neil H. Donahue. Pemsylvanla: Pemsylvanta State University Pries, 1995. -oL_o___-_ Aristotle: Setections. Trans. and Eâ. Tarence frwin and Gail Fine. &dianirpolir Hackett RibUshing Co., hc.. 1995. ------. Theorizing a New Agenda for Architecture: An Anthology of Architectural ZBeory 1965-95. M. Kate Nesbitt. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1996. IMAGE NALUATION TEST TARGET (QA-3)

APPLIED - IMAGE. lnc -.-= 1653 East Main Street --, Rochester, NY 14609 USA ------Phone: 716/482-0300 ---- Fax: 71 6128&5989