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Chapter 3 examines how the open-plan type was adopted in and adapted to the increasingly prosperous (and sometimes increasingly populous) parish churches of larger communities across fifteenth- and sixteenth-century England. Examples include a tightly connected group of churches in the city of Norwich as well as clusters of related buildings in York and London.
Chapter 2 investigates how, beginning in the fourteenth century, the emergence of the open-plan parish church afforded residents of rapidly expanding municipalities the means to build ostentatious places of worship that maximized space, minimized cost, and expressed their ambitions as emerging social agents. Case-study locales include Gorleston-on-Sea (Norfolk), North Walsham (Norfolk), Beccles (Suffolk), King’s Lynn (Norfolk), Dartmouth (Devon), St Ives (Cornwall), and Oldham (Lancashire).
Chapter 6 investigates the ways in which new approaches to parish church design augmented the spatial, visual, and aural experience of their resident communities—with special attention to the roles of boundary-marking installations such as screens, seats, and stained-glass windows. Items of special interest include screens at Woodbridge (Suffolk) and Totnes (Devon); seats at King’s Lynn (Norfolk) and Altarnun (Cornwall); stained glass in various locations across Norfolk, Suffolk, and Cornwall; and the spectacular suite of timber furnishings preserved at Southwold (Suffolk).
Chapter 5 moves from the municipality to the manor to explore how the open-plan parish church format expedited the exercise of lordly provision, piety, and power in an era of political tumult. Case-study locales include Scottow (Norfolk), Nayland (Suffolk), Long Melford (Suffolk), Denston (Suffolk), Loddon (Norfolk), Shelton (Norfolk), Salthouse (Norfolk), Middleton (Lancashire), Sefton (Lancashire), and a collection of manors associated with the Stanley family in northeastern Wales.
Chapter 4 examines how the open-plan type was adopted in and adapted to the increasingly populous (and sometimes increasingly prosperous) parish churches of smaller communities across fifteenth- and sixteenth-century England. Examples include a tightly connected group of churches in the county of Suffolk as well as clusters of related buildings in Cheshire, Lancashire, Devon, and Cornwall.
The conclusion argues, on the basis of the evidence presented throughout the book, that the open-plan parish church represents a special achievement in several respects: spatially (qua the English parish church), socially (qua the English parish church), and architecturally (as a manifestation of collaborative Gothic). It closes with a survey of the legacy of the type in the anglophone world.
This text follows a well-known botanist along the shoreline of a Philippine island as he takes photographs of nipa palm (nypa fruticans), in its passage from plant to building part. It is January 1940 and David Fairchild is interested in plants for the collection of his new botanical garden in Miami, nicknamed ‘the kampong’. He takes a photograph of nipa being woven into roof shingles by women sitting cross-legged, watched by children. At the lens of Fairchild’s camera, the material forms of two world orders converge. One is the process of building construction in archipelagic Southeast Asia, a gendered process of manual fabrication where muscle-memory guides the way and instruction is by observation. The second is that of the camera, that tool of observation, tracking, and extracting of tropical environments. The article discusses the agency of these women in the context of the history of everyday labour forms that are systematically overlooked in architectural history, showing instead how the process is crucial to a contemporary body politics of the South and European perceptions of the tropics.
What is the relationship between the experience of intoxication and the built environment in which it occurs? This article reflects on how the materiality of spaces of intoxication offers a lens for exploring the interplay between bodily and psychic experiences and their connection to the emerging world orders. We focus on the architecture of so-called opium dens as largely unexplored historical sites, examining how they shaped consumers and embodied tensions between meaning-making and meaning-erasure. To do so, the article situates intoxication within its political context in public space before analysing elements such as darkness, light, order, smell, and bodily arrangements in architectural renewal plans informed by paradigms of order, clarity, whiteness, and minimalism under the state-making project initiated with the Iranian Constitutional Revolution (1905-1911) through to the restoration of Mohammad Reza Shah (1955). We argue that the architecture of intoxication materialised an alternative world order, centred on bodily practices, in contrast to the modernist state and its architectural models. Drawing on novel primary sources from Iranian archives, including reports on opium dens, architectural drawings, images, visitors’ accounts and commentaries by leading revolutionaries, the article employs an interdisciplinary approach that integrates historical, anthropological, and architectural perspectives.
This article examines the origins of facility management as a field of practice that was first developed in the 1970s when the open plan office concept first became popular in the United States. The author focuses on the influence of the furniture manufacturer Herman Miller and its subsidiary, the Facility Management Institute (FMI), on the development of this new field and its rapid professionalization and growth through the latter part of the twentieth century. She argues that FMI played an essential role in the founding of facility management as a dedicated field: defining it, establishing its core values, processes, and methods; and increasing its visibility as a professional discipline. While initially promoted by FMI as a human-centered discipline that emphasized using the workplace to support workers, as facility management increased its influence and organizational position “from broomcloset to boardroom,” it evolved to become a more fiscally minded field that sought to cut costs, outsource services, and leverage space for financial benefit.
Building the Parish Church in Late Medieval England investigates the architectural, artistic, and cultural significance of local places of worship between the Black Death and the Reformation. Zachary Stewart provides the first systematic account of an exceptional type of parish church distinguished by the absence of any structural division between nave and chancel. Tracking its development across time, place, and setting, he explores how the type's integrated format not only expressed but also reinforced and reproduced collective processes related to the conception, construction, and customization of parochial space. The result, he argues, was nothing less than a new kind of public monument to collaborative action. Informed by a wealth of archival, archaeological, and architectural research, with special attention to East Anglia, Stewart's study demonstrates the importance of the parish church as a center for innovative material production in late medieval England. It also reveals how non-elite social arrangements shaped local life on the eve of the modern era.
This chapter offers an account of the concept of technē in classical Greek culture, with particular attention to its social, epistemological, and pedagogical dimensions. It draws on literary, documentary, and art historical sources to reconstruct technē as a lifelong, economically embedded profession characterized by specialization, teachability, and use of rationality. Four core aspects are emphasized: (1) the low social status of dēmiourgoi; (2) the close relationship between technē and teaching, including apprenticeship; (3) the necessity of specialization, with practitioners typically mastering only one trade; and (4) the rationality of technē, evidenced through causal reasoning, written protocols, and the use of mathematics. The chapter also explores the contested status of elite practices – such as warfare, poetry, and rhetoric – as technai, and the sophists’ self-presentation as professionals. By situating technē within the lived realities of ancient Greek labor and education, the chapter sets the stage for Plato’s philosophical use of the concept.
Caleta Huelén-42 es uno de los sitios más relevantes para comprender la emergencia de arquitectura y procesos de complejización social de cazadores recolectores marítimos del Desierto de Atacama. A pesar de su importancia, la información estratigráfica y contextual es escasa y difícil de evaluar en las síntesis regionales producto de la interrupción de sus investigaciones hace 50 años. Este trabajo reanuda los estudios del sitio, y se orienta a definir su secuencia de formación a partir de nueva información geomática, estratigráfica y radiocarbónica obtenida con métodos de mínima intervención. Desde un enfoque centrado en los sedimentos, presentamos un análisis estratigráfico sistemático y planteamos una secuencia que difiere al patrón aldeano tradicionalmente sugerido para este sitio. Los resultados indican que (1) las dimensiones del sitio son mayores a las previamente establecidas; (2) el conchal monticular que define al sitio precede a la arquitectura; (3) la fase de uso-construcción de las estructuras no produjo depósitos domésticos extensivos, sino constructivos; y (4) las estructuras fueron intencionalmente cubiertas con sedimento, sugiriendo rituales de clausura. Se documenta una dinámica arquitectónica-funeraria compleja basada en prácticas depositacionales socialmente pautadas, que sugieren nuevas hipótesis sobre el rol de la arquitectura en los grupos cazadores-recolectores de la costa de Atacama.
The following chapter examines the reception of Byzantium through the lenses of the Church and Orthodoxy. The conventional term ‘Byzantium’ — though currently disputed — remains the most widely used name for the Eastern Roman Empire. Byzantine reception surpasses mere texts; it encompasses Byzantine literature, art, culture and the liturgical tradition. This brief survey opens with a general discussion on Byzantine reception up to the modern era, offering several examples that illustrate how Orthodoxy and the Church, broadly defined, were (re)appropriated in the period following the Fall of Constantinople. It then delves into aspects of Byzantium’s reception intricately tied to the concept of the Church, encompassing both architectural structures and artifacts, as well as religious identities and traditions.
The inclusion of human rights into architectural education has yet to be considered, despite the profound impact of the built environment on individuals and their cultures. This chapter illuminates the essential need to recognize the dual capacity of architecture to either empower or impede citizens’ rights. The argument for the inclusion of human rights in the university curriculum begins with a case study of fourth-year architecture students collaborating with a vulnerable community in Bangkok. That experience led to an ongoing investigation of the relationship between rights and the built environment. In turn, this revealed significant gaps within the current curriculum that overlook these crucial topics. The chapter advocates for educational and institutional reforms to establish a direct connection between architectural practice and human rights advocacy. It also calls for a paradigm shift within a profession that has historically distanced itself from vernacular practices and community-focused design.
Written over a period of five decades (1973–2013), Peter Maxwell Davies’s ten symphonies occupy a central position in his output. Having established a reputation in the 1960s as the ‘enfant terrible’ of British music, chiefly as a result of a number of radical music-theatre works, the appearance of a ‘Symphony’ in the following decade surprised critics. Yet Davies was long attracted to the abstract qualities of the genre – an interest deepened by his move to Hoy, Orkney, in the early 1970s. This chapter considers how landscape, place and the natural world, issues of form and genre, the symphonic legacy of Sibelius and Mahler, and architecture – especially the works of Brunelleschi and Borromini – shaped these symphonies. It argues that acknowledging and appreciating the symphonies from these multiple musical and extra-musical perspectives can illuminate the richness of the composer’s symphonic imagination.
An analysis of households and communities in the lower Segura and Vinalopó river valleys between the eighth and fifth centuries BCE provides an in-depth understanding of interactions between Indigenous and Phoenician groups and how people deployed various techniques for the spatial production of locality. In a context of intensive contacts between people of diverse origins, the production of places, economies and rituals of the households and their integration in wider communities and regional networks are considered. Particular attention is given to the role of settlements, neighbourhoods and houses as locales for materializing and structuring social relations within and among households.
This paper proposes plant root systems as biological role models and active biomaterials for innovative architectural design. Focusing on both coarse and fine root systems, the research combines biomimetic analysis, material-driven design and experimental biodesign methods to explore how root growth principles can inform structural, anchoring and connective systems. A temporary biolab enabled cultivation experiments, including root entanglement in granular media, hydroponic connectivity studies, embedded growth in 3D-printed soil structures and the fabrication of patterned root mats. In parallel, digital modelling and analysis of scanned root systems supported the development of simulation workflows and speculative design applications. The project follows a radical exploration methodology integrating biological research, computational tools and hands-on experimentation. Preliminary insights suggest roots’ capacity to stabilise substrates, connect inert components and generate adaptive material systems. The findings establish a foundation for scalable, bio-integrated and bio-inspired construction strategies and contribute to sustainable, resilient and ecologically responsive practices.
This work stages spatial and sensory situations where suppressed ecologies are encountered rather than represented, not as historical reconstruction but as conditions that can be felt again. Many of New York City’s ecological systems no longer exist as visible landscapes. Filled hydrology, contaminated soil, and infrastructural overlay have transformed living ecologies into conditions that continue to register through material consequence and trace. These conditions are most often accessed through historical reconstruction and ecological mapping (Sanderson 2009). This work proposes another mode of access, one that is both physical and perceptual, built from the inside of an encounter rather than observed from outside it.
Earthquakes and the destruction they wreak on communities and landscapes are regular features of both modern news output and historical accounts. Archaeology can add to our understanding of such disasters, demonstrated here in the discussion of architectural damage noted during recent excavations at Panaztepe, an Early Bronze Age settlement in Western Anatolia. Distinct destruction horizons illustrate the primary and secondary impacts of two earthquakes during the third millennium BC: the first was followed by reconstruction and adaptation, the second by abandonment. By focusing on evidence of seismic activity, the authors examine the resilience of communities inhabiting this geologically fragile region.
The first decade of the nineteenth century was a crucial period in the development of Haiti and Black identity in the Caribbean. This chapter focuses on the first half of the decade: L’Ouverture’s reign during the abolition of slavery, his capture and exile, and Dessalines’s declaration of Haitian independence. I trace evolving attitudes towards architectural destruction and renovation, focusing on three stages: uncertainty about violence; creolization, mimicry, and renovation; and acceptance of the obliteration of the architectural archive as an anti-colonial act. Drawing on texts by Romantic authors including John Thelwall, William Wordsworth, Marcus Rainsford, and Leonora Sansay, I recover how Romantic ideology and revolutionary practice were not merely transmitted across the Atlantic then passively accepted in the Caribbean. Haitians actively adapted and complicated Romantic and revolutionary ideology, using the common tropes of the period to reimagine their place in the world and assert their rejection of objectification and colonialism