Queer Space Architecture And Same-sex Desire

[Melissa Russian]

Thequeer crowd has always been and always will be. Their visibility was just swept under the rug by the heteronormative dogmas propelled into strict mass normality by the years that followed the classical golden ages. As with any community throughout history, the queer faction always had spaces to call their own, crafted in the brilliant vibrance that we have now come to recognize as being synonymous with being different, being just as eligible to have a voice as any other, and being proud of and true to oneself.

Throughout history, the queer individual has profoundly struggled with living a life that was not ostracized. With having to hide their quiddity, queer individuals were often forced to fit into the binary-heterosexual mold. Even with their identities out in the open, these individuals have had to deal with exiles, social exclusion, and violence. Queer spaces, thus began to fill in as safe places for the self, places for gathering, places for entertainment, and even community housing.

Numerous instances in mythology and ancient text point to a certain normalization in connection to homosexuality and queer individuals. The initiation ceremonies in many ancient civilizations encouraged queer practices as seen with the tribes of New Guinea and the Adonia rite of the Ancient Greek.

The ancient societies encouraged such relationships on grounds of consent and respect. Public spaces such as the gymnasium facilitated these interactions wherein an older partner sought and mentored the younger, maintaining a fruitful engagement that was publicly acceptable.

Although Ancient Rome that came much later had laws discouraging same-sex relationships, it had facilitated grandiose spaces of interactions for same-sex and all genders such as the famous Roman baths. These were the thresholds of queer spaces that encouraged body positivity and the acceptance of nakedness at a societal and communal level.

With many a youngster and elderly rendered homeless owing to the lack of social acceptance in addition to the scope of being subjected to violence, there is an all-time need to facilitate safe queer spaces by redefining the nature of the existing public spaces and implementing inclusive strategies around the globe.

The reemergence of queerness among a younger generation of practitioners is similarly concerned with the present, specifically the homogenizing effects of architecture culture and aesthetics, which Adam Nathan Furman writes are so dominated by hetero, cis-male identity that plurality is bluntly and effectively silenced.

Founded in 1969, the Los Angeles LGBT Center is a nonprofit organization that offers health and social services, public programming, housing, and advocacy within the city. In 2014, in partnership with housing developer Thomas Safran & Associates, the Center issued request for proposals for a new campus to be built across the street from one of its existing outposts, The Village, at Ed Gould Plaza in Hollywood. The RFP outlined a city block packed with programs: affordable housing for seniors and supportive housing for young adults, 100 beds for homeless youth, a new senior center, retail space, a youth center, event spaces, and an administrative headquarters.

Chris and Dominic Leong, with KFA, entered and won the competition for what would become the Anita May Rosenstein Campus, beating out a shortlist of LA-based architects that included Michael Maltzan, Frederick Fisher, Predock Frane, and MAD. Their design placed senior and youth housing at opposite ends of the site, with outdoor spaces and services forming a connective tissue between the residential bookends. The showy administrative building on the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and McCadden Place is meant to be the most public face of the project.

[Trans bodies] function not simply to provide an image of the non-normative against which normative bodies can be discerned, but rather as bodies that are fragmentary and internally contradictory; bodies that remap gender and its relations to race, place, class, and sexuality; bodies that are in pain; bodies that sound different from how they look; bodies that represent palimpsestic identities or a play of surfaces; bodies that must be split open and reorganized, opened up to chance and random signification.7

Splitting open the Anita May Rosenstein block reveals a nuanced set of interconnected spaces that comprise and connect the interior, which hosts a suite of youth services. If the exterior of the campus, especially the administration building, the event hall, and outdoor plazas, is about broadcasting a queer civic presence with heightened confidence, inside is about responding to the difficult and violent realities of being a gay or trans person living on the streets. Programs include a youth center, The Ariadne Getty Foundation Youth Academy, emergency beds for homeless young adults, a communal kitchen, and facilities for the transitional living program, which provides housing to LGBT youth and the support to help them get a job and enroll in school.

Mimi Zeiger is a Los Angeles-based critic, editor, and curator. She was co-curator of the U.S. Pavilion for the 2018 Venice Architecture Biennale and is currently curating Soft Schindler at the MAK Center for Art and Architecture, which opens in October 2019. She teaches at SCI-Arc and the Media Design Practices MFA program at Art Center College of Design.

Considering this fact, one might easily interpret the Glass House solely as an exercise in camp, an outlet through which Johnson could resolve his decidedly unresolved10 homosexual inclinations. Consider, for instance, the aforementioned paradox of transparency/secrecy. In theory, the house--and by extension, its inhabitants--should be easily penetrable by outsiders. Yet its inhabitants were most often secretly gay men, and no one knew it. What is the purpose of this duplicity, this visual chicanery? It ties back, of course, to camp. According to queer theorist Jack Babuscio, there are four elements of camp: irony, aestheticism, theatricality, and humor.11 Each of these is present in the Glass House. The irony--that the world world could look in on gay men inhabiting an aesthetically pleasing setting and not understand that they are gay--is obvious, as is the inherent humor of this contradiction.

With the Glass House, Philip Johnson put homosexuality in the home. He tore down societal barriers and created a gay space meant to be inhabited by gay men including, for at least part of the time, a long-term same-sex couple.20 The implications of this are explosive. Prior to gay liberation (which might be dated to the Stonewall Riots of 1968 and even up to the early 2000s), gay people were expected to live on the fringes of society, relegated to lives as outcasts apart from the mainstream. The lucky ones, like Johnson, found a home among accepting, progressive, often artistic communities, but most either remained hidden or lived a life of solitude and sadness. The Glass House rejects this rather depressing quandary, and offers a different idea: what if gay men were allowed to live the same way, and inhabit the same space as, heterosexuals? What if a home were built for the express purpose of homosexual living? Would the whole construct of middle-class masculinity simply fall into ruins, taking down with it the class family model?

The symbolism here is clear. In modern parlance, the Guest House is the closet. It is where gay men like Johnson were forced to spend most of their time, the place which they came to the Glass House to escape. Its presence is a powerful reminder that no matter how clever or campy or ironic or queer the Glass House was, it would always be an escape, a diversion. Mainstream society was still virulently homophobic, and most gay men could not be open and honest and still prosper (or even survive) in regular society. If only for this reason, the Glass House may be seen as a powerful symbol of gay liberation. It is, without a doubt, a gay space, and its gayness penetrates deep into the heart of its design. But on a simpler level, it is a place of acceptance for homosexuality, a house where the community could gather and stop pretending and enjoy themselves in whatever way they wished. Philip Johnson did the world a favor when he designed the Glass House, and all these decades later, we still marvel at its ingenuity, its irony, and its bizarre beauty.

Disclaimer: content on this website is for informational purposes only. It is not intended to provide medical or other professional advice. Moreover, the views expressed here do not necessarily represent the views of Inquiries Journal or Student Pulse, its owners, staff, contributors, or affiliates.

OUT of Space highlights contributions of the LGBTQ+ community within architecture and the built environment. The exhibition was originally organised by the RIBA LGBTQ+ Community internal group, and the RIBA Library and Collections team for display during LGBT+ History Month 2023.

Out of Space is divided into two sections displaying the relationship between the LGBTQ+ community and architecture throughout history. Starting from the 18th century and ending in the present, this exhibition gives voice to people who are part of the LGBTQ+ community and their way of relating to space.

As Aaron Betsky asserts in his book Queer space: architecture and same-sex desire, LGBTQ+ people [... ] have always been at the forefront of architectural innovation reclaiming abandoned neighbourhoods, redefining urban spaces, and creating liberating interiors out of hostile environments [... ].

In 1967, male homosexuality was decriminalised in England and Wales, but unfortunately it is still illegal in many parts of the world today. As a result, it is not uncommon for LGBTQ+ people to be careful when choosing whoever is going to provide a service that intervenes into their private sphere.

Out of Space can be interpreted as an architectural short-novel illustrated with items belonging to the RIBA Collections, and displaying the evolution of LGBTQ+ issues in the built environment, from the 18th century to today.

3a8082e126