MOVEMENT AND EMPATHY： From spatial exploration to social learning
We move, even when we stand still. Our eyes blink, our hearts beat, our lungs contract and expand, our arms twitch, even in the most steady-state moment. Absolute stillness is not for the living. In early childhood, as Piaget’s studies show, we associate life with movement.1 Whether it is a bike that moves or a caterpillar that crawls, they are both equally alive for our young minds. Only at later stages of development do we learn to differentiate spontaneous movement from movement imposed by an outside agent, and associate life only with the former. In other words, we learn to differentiate the movement of the bicycle which is caused by the biker—an outside agent—from the movement of the caterpillar, which is intrinsic and created by itself.
Through movement we discover our bodies and develop our motor skills. We also develop an understanding of the environment by moving through it. Movement allows us to experience the world from multiple perspectives, expanding our egocentric view toward allocentric ones. From early childhood, when we start discovering ourselves and our surroundings, to later stages of development, when we build social, emotional, and cognitive relationships, movement plays a catalytic role. And it is through movement that we interact with others. We learn to socialize and develop skills that allow us to take perspectives other than our own. And by that, movement is key to empathy.
4.1 Avenues Shenzhen Primary School climbing wall.
Buildings, on the other hand, are expected to stand still. When they move—if they shake in an earthquake or sway in the wind, for instance—we are terrified. The sense of stability of a building is taken for granted, but even in their assumed stillness, buildings never stop moving. Thermal movements cause materials to expand and contract, and floors deflect as they get subjected to occupant loads, like people coming in and out or as we roll heavy furniture onto them. But most of these movements are unnoticeable to the casual observer, and we only experience the traces that movement leaves behind, like cracks on the wall or the sound of a creaky floor.
The movement around buildings, however, is manifold and omnipresent. Spontaneous movements engulf buildings, like people entering and departing or birds nesting on the eaves, or the slow climb of ivy on their walls. There are also the imparted movements—movements imposed by outside agents, such as when we open a door—in and around the buildings that create constant activity. Buildings shape and are shaped by the movement within and around them.
During the design process of a building, the questions of movement often present themselves like a puzzle to be solved. How do we circulate a building? What are the functional relationships between the spaces that need to be connected? What are the required adjacencies? Such questions play a critical role in understanding, analyzing, and designing the programmatic requirements of a project. Some building typologies, like airports, rely on the successful resolution and delineation of different circulation networks, such as arriving passengers and departing ones; domestic versus international travelers; the taxi pick up line to public transportation network; taxiways of the planes and the ground transportation vehicles that share the same tarmac; or sorting out the different luggage paths and many other circulation networks associated with security and servicing.
However, circulation is not just a puzzle; our spatial perception is built on how we move through space. Movement allows us to see multiple perspectives, and see our environment from various vantage points, engaging our senses of vision, smell, hearing, and touch, as well as our sense of proprioception—the awareness of our body within space. Proprioception enables us to control the movements we make, but it also “provides us with the ability to perceive ourselves moving in space and acting in relation to our surrounding.”2 As we move within space, our awareness of being-in-the-world is indexed through the senses of our body, and therefore the interactions between body and space is key to the discussion on Movement and Empathy.
HUMAN BODY
The relationship between architecture and the human body has a long history. As a form of shelter, architecture provides thermoregulation for the human body, protecting it from outside climatic conditions. Thinking of the building as a piece of clothing that wraps us or provides a second skin, as an extension of our bodies has played a significant role in architectural discourse. Indra Kagis McEwen, in her book on architectural beginnings, argues through etymological, literary, and visual references that there are multiple parallels between weaving and designing buildings and town planning.4 They share the same desire to create order.
The other strand in the relationship of architecture and the human body is in the study of proportions. The fascination of anthropometric proportions of the human body historically has been discussed in metaphysical terms. In the first century BCE, the proportions of the human body were described by Vitruvius as the reference for designing “perfect buildings.”5 After outlining the proportions of the body parts, he presents a geometric depiction of the so-called “Vitruvian man”:
For if a man, be placed flat on his back, with his hands and feet extended, and a pair of compasses centered at his navel, the fingers, and toes of his two hands and feet will touch the circumference of a circle described therefrom. And just as the human body yields a circular outline, so too a square figure may be found from it. For if we measure the distance from the soles of the feet to the top of the head, and then apply that measure to the outstretched arms, the breadth will be found to be the same as the height, as in the case of plane surfaces which are perfectly square.
The rediscovery of Vitruvius’s writings in the fifteenth century played a key role in the art and architectural discourse of the Renaissance. In their conviction to create harmony in buildings through a system of mathematical ratios, Renaissance architects mirrored the proportions of the human body in their designs—a direct influence of Vitruvian thinking. The human body was seen as “the image of God” and “the proportions of his body are produced by divine will, so the proportions in architecture have to embrace and express the cosmic order.”
4.2 Leonardo da Vinci, Vitruvian Man, ca. 1492.
It is important to highlight that the emphasis on the ideal human figure is referenced as the adult Western male body. There is extensive critical writing about the emphasis on canonizing this body as the ideal human being. When considered from the perspective of human development, however, building a discourse on the adult body overlooks an array of relationships that develop throughout different stages of development.8 We relate to the physical environment with our bodies, our perception of space is through our bodies, and at no time in human development is the relationship of the body and the physical environment more visceral than during early childhood.
Toddlers learn with their bodies. Putting objects into their mouths, banging on objects, tucking themselves into nooks and crannies are all part of their exploratory strategies, and an integral part of their developmental process. Insertion, especially, is a common spatial exploration strategy for this age group. For instance, “when infants and toddlers learn to isolate one finger without extending the others, they begin to explore by insertion. They explore objects by putting fingers in objects or running fingers along their outside edges. As children explore, they also insert other body parts (hands, feet, legs, head, etc.) and their entire bodies into objects.”9 The spaces that allow for insertions of their bodies create a fun learning environment for toddlers.
For a movement room we designed for the Avenues New York Campus Early Learning Center, we created a series of niches in different scales for the toddlers to explore. For instance, the egg-shaped niche in Figure 4.3 allows children to learn to stretch and balance their body using the curvature of the niche. The form of the niche suggests curling into a fetal position, and children are observed playing inside the niche, profiling their bodies in different forms against the curvature of the space.
4.3 Toddlers learn with their bodies, and insertion is a spatial exploration strategy.
The niches are scaled for the size of toddlers, allowing them to easily reach the walls of the eggs with their arms and legs. This stretching inside the niche is also observed in the playroom.10 Toddlers stand up inside the niches and stretch their legs and arms, as they learn to balance and coordinate their movements. These spaces wrap their bodies and give them a sense of security and belonging. Not surprisingly, as observed by the teachers, the children refer to these eggs as “bedrooms.”
The niches are scaled for the size of toddlers, allowing them to easily reach the walls of the eggs with their arms and legs. This stretching inside the niche is also observed in the playroom.10 Toddlers stand up inside the niches and stretch their legs and arms, as they learn to balance and coordinate their movements. These spaces wrap their bodies and give them a sense of security and belonging. Not surprisingly, as observed by the teachers, the children refer to these eggs as “bedrooms.”
In a next version of this play structure, designed for another location, we added interconnections between different niches to create more intricate insertion areas for spatial exploration. In this version of the design, the connectivity between the egg niches creates a nested structure that allows the children to move from one niche to another through circular openings and slides. (Figure 4.6) The profiling of the structures, where the children can move more actively, also plays an important role in their spatial explorations.
As seen in the insertion strategy, the relationship between the physical environment and the children’s bodies is critical. For instance, concave and convex undulations in the playscapes offer multiple fun experiences. (Figure 4.7) These forms help to exercise the movement of climbing up and down, and coordinate steps for the children. Upon many observations, children are seen rolling, sliding, and running over these forms, sometimes by themselves, sometimes playing with other friends. “Repetitive play is one of the ways in which children master major motor skills,” and these undulating playscapes offer repetitions with variations.
4.7 The sinuous forms of the playscapes encourage spatial exploration and help develop gross motor skills.
In a next version of this play structure, designed for another location, we added interconnections between different niches to create more intricate insertion areas for spatial exploration. In this version of the design, the connectivity between the egg niches creates a nested structure that allows the children to move from one niche to another through circular openings and slides. (Figure 4.6) The profiling of the structures, where the children can move more actively, also plays an important role in their spatial explorations.
As seen in the insertion strategy, the relationship between the physical environment and the children’s bodies is critical. For instance, concave and convex undulations in the playscapes offer multiple fun experiences. (Figure 4.7) These forms help to exercise the movement of climbing up and down, and coordinate steps for the children. Upon many observations, children are seen rolling, sliding, and running over these forms, sometimes by themselves, sometimes playing with other friends. “Repetitive play is one of the ways in which children master major motor skills,” and these undulating playscapes offer repetitions with variations.
The sinuous forms of the playscapes are designed to conform naturally to the human body, which helps children to engage the playscapes in multiple ways. For instance, we have observed that children lay down on the slopes, along the contours of the curves, and play with each other. The shapes allow them to engage in high-paced activities like running up and down, as well as pausing to lay down and play with each other more quietly. (Figure 4.8) To ensure the curves of the playscapes were tuned to the body of young children, we conducted various studies on the sectional profiles of the contours. The scale, curvature, and syncopation of the concave and convex profiles were mapped out in full scale mockups and tested. This rigorous study was then translated to careful documentation of these profiles for fabrication of both the structural frames and soft upholstery coverings. (Figure 4.9)
