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Private and Public Space: Interiority and the Build Environment

The central concern of this paper will be to give an account of the emergence of interiority from its origins in late antique Christianity to its re-emergence in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries with specific consideration to the way ideas of interiority inform the design of the built environment. By built environment I mean all the built spaces both private and public which constitute the environment where people live. In both early Christianity and early modernity, the phenomenon of interiority arose for different reasons reflecting the interests of the society at the time. Modern interiority is characterized by a retreat from public life and a transformation of the individual's self-understanding in relation to the external world. Through an examination of the uses and structural form of private and public spaces, antique and modern, I hope to shed some light on how interiority is represented in the built environment. The modern individual's sense of self is defined by interiority. Interiority privileges inward reflection, and is characterized by an inner reckoning with the senses, emotions, thoughts, as well as spiritual and aesthetic sentiments. Behind the principle of interiority lies a fundamental distinction between the inner and the outer. This dichotomy is not uniquely modern, but finds its earliest expression in the ideas of the Christian Church father St. Augustine. Augustine expressed the distinction between inner and outer in Christian terms as a conflict between the worlds of flesh and spirit. This idea was itself an adaptation upon the Platonic dichotomy between the Forms and the world of bodies. In de Trinitate XII.i, Augustine distinguishes the inner from the outer realm in relation to man. The outer realm is said to correspond to the world of carnal flesh, the bodily forms of temporal existence, and that which man shares in common with beasts. The inner realm is said to correspond to the spirit. For Augustine the inner realm of the spirit is held higher than the outer realm of flesh because the inner path leads to truth, and truth is God. Noli foras ire, in teipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas (Do not go outward; return within yourself. In the inward man dwells truth).[1] The Augustinian command to turn inwards brings the individual into a position of radical self reckoning. If what is true is to be found within, then the realm of interiority becomes the ideal framework in which the individual should understand himself and his place in the world.

Augustine's recognition of the primacy of interiority is the culmination of two centuries of intense debate among early Christian thinkers concerning the dichotomy between flesh and spirit. Perhaps the best historical record we have of the legacy of Augustine's definitive contribution to this debate is not to be found in any written document, but through a close study of the buildings and interior spaces of early Christian temples in the the fourth and fifth centuries. The emergence of Christianity as the state sponsored religion of the Roman Empire in the fourth century required the the design of a new type of spiritual building distinct from the old pagan temples. The Christian temple-buildings of this period reveal a reckoning with the issue of interiority and the tension between the inner/outer dichotomy through the specific design and use of space. Augustine's reflection upon the sacredness of man's interior soul seems to have served as a metaphorical blueprint for the design of the Christian temple, where the interior space of the building is held to be sacred and the locus of truth, and the exterior space around the building is held to be secular. In the fourth century Christian temples began to be designed in the style of the Roman basilica, or appropriated existing basilicas for this purpose. The first documented basilica in the Roman Forum appeared in 184 BC. By the time of Christian appropriation, the function of the basilica in the Roman world had transformed to suit many uses. Depending on the geography of the site and the needs of the citizens, the basilica served a variety of functions; as centres of commerce for butchers, grocers, and merchants; courts of law and legal businesses; centres of government bureaucracy; or simply as public symbols of the Imperial power. In all cases the defining feature of the basilica was its role as a public space. The architecture of the building reinforced this public role. They were long and rectangular structures, flanked by a hall of columns on each side. Entrances on either end of the space encouraged movement from one side to the other, and forced face-to-face encounters among individuals travelling in opposite directions. The public significance was also reinforced by the central location the basilica often occupied in Roman cities and towns. The important public role of the basilica is emphasized here in order to demonstrate the gravity of the transformation that occurred when the use of the basilica was transformed from a public venue to a Christian temple. Although the transformation was not in any sense architectural, the affect brought about by the change in use of the space proved to be just as dramatic. As newly consecrated sacred space, the basilica-cum-church lost its identity as a public space and assumed the physical embodiment of interiority. Here we see

the primacy of interiority championed by Augustine manifest in stone. The long straight columns which once ushered movement between poles and encouraged public interaction, now served as harsh lines indicating where the external world ended and the superior internal world began. The emptiness of the vast tomb-like chamber once filled with the chatter of people, now silenced. In its place, the interior space of the building compels the individual to confront their own interior realm. Since the fourth century, Augustine's doctrine of interiority has entered the Western intellectual tradition through the dominance of Christianity. The Christian emphases on the primacy of the soul, the individual's private communion with the divine, and the expression of faith through private deeds, established the centrality of private man as the measure of the world (in the Middle Ages) and the highest end and good in society (since the Enlightenment). If the rise of Christianity in the fourth century stands at the dawn of the emerging significance of interior man, then the eighteenth century Enlightenment was its watershed moment. In the centuries before the Enlightenment, the Christian framework of the world provided man with a fundamental understanding of his place in creation and in relation to the divine. In this framework, man was at the centre of creation, and the world was measured against his needs. Order in the world was imposed from above, either from the harmony of the moving spheres, the organizing principle of the Forms, or from the natural organization of social rank and class. The great contribution made to the doctrine of interiority in the eighteenth century was the idea that in so far as man was the measure of the world, he was also responsible for providing its order. In this new framework, the individual brings order to the world through his relations with other individuals and their desire to ensure mutual happiness and benefit. This utilitarian conception of order forfeited the idea of an omnipotent god in favour of human reason and agency. The enlightenment model of order operated on the principle of the integrity of the individual as a rational and responsible being. The vindication of interiority as the source for moral as well as social and political order had dramatic ramifications for the societies who opted to take up the new framework. The French Revolution is arguably one example. However I should like to ere on the side of caution here, as I feel that the attempt to identify specific causes for historical transformations is inherently problematic. I opt instead to stand on the shoulders of the twenty-first century intellectual Charles Taylor, whose work on the modern social

imagination frames the eighteenth century conception of order based on the utilitarian principle of exchange for mutual benefit as a fundamentally economic model of order.[2] Taylor's use of the language of economy is only incidentally related to the definition of economy as the capitalistic trade of goods. For Taylor, utilitarian relations of order are economic in the original root meaning of the word. Economy comes from the Greek oikonomia household management, which is itself derived from the Greek root oikos for house. The implication is that relations of order in the modern framework exist between equal individuals as if between members of a household, rather than between a godhead and lowly creation. Charles Taylor is indebted to the twentieth century philosopher Hannah Arendt for his understanding of oikonomia as an ordering principle of modern society. Arendt conceives that the centrality of oikonomia in the eighteenth century is symptomatic of a radical transformation of the essential dichotomy between the private and the public realm, which has characterized Western thinking since antiquity, to include the emergence of new dimension, the social. The emergence of societythe rise of housekeeping, its activities, problems, and organizational devicefrom the shadowy interior of the household into the light of the public sphere, has not only blurred the old borderline between private and political, it has also changed almost beyond recognition the meaning of the two terms and their significance for the life of the individual and the citizen.[3] With the rise of the social, the individual experiences a loss of their sense of privacy. This is because the activities associated with the private realm before the rise of the socialhousekeeping, literally the maintenance of one's home and healthare now satisfied by social institutions such as the centralized state and the market economy. The rise of the social sphere and the displacement of the private realm in the eighteenth century required the individual redefine the meaning of interiority. Arendt observes that the eighteenth century witnessed a flourishing of poetry, music, and the rise of the novelarts which engage the individual in a searching dialogue with interiority. At the same time Arendt notes there was a drastic decline in public arts such as architecture.[4] It was also during this period, and in the century that followed, that the role of the homethe privately owned interior spaces of the new bourgeoisietook on a greater significance in daily life. In the nineteenth century especially, the home became a refuge from the pressures of the external world brought about by the Industrial Revolution and the chaos and filth of city living. Stated boldly, home became the secular version of spiritual refuge; the geography of safety shifted from a sanctuary in the

urban centre to the domestic interior.[5] The belief in the interior as the the refuge of truth and sanctity was a legacy from Christianity. However, in the eighteenth century, the need for escape from the encroaching pressure of the social realm on the private could no longer be satisfied by this antiquated notion of interiority. The church was no longer a suitable refuge because the afflictions of the soul faced by the modern individual were no longer spiritual, but psychological. The psychological experience of the modern individual in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was characterized by the partitioning of experience. Whereas the citizen of Athens in the fifth century BCE might have concerned himself with the distinction between the Good of the Forms and the trappings of the world, or the fifth century Christian with the dichotomy between the spirit and the flesh, these dilemmas were essentially moral problems and afflicted the individual on the private level. What was at stake for the Athenian citizen was the life of happiness, and for the Christian, admission to heaven. However for the eighteenth century modern, the fragmentation of the world into various realms, social and political, private and public, interior and exterior, forced the individual to experience the world as fragmented. The attempt to bring order and clarity to the interior space of the home was an attempt to reconcile this fragmentation. However, the process of fragmentation begun in the public realm simply continued into the private sphere via the division of labour. Separation created division in the family as much as it did in the street.[6] By the nineteenth century the interior space of the home reflected the same fragmentation that characterized the interiority of the modern soul. Domestic design reflected this fragmentation by dividing the home into private and public spaces. Specialized rooms were created to fulfil a variety of functions including cooking, bathing, and recreation.[7] As the modern individual retreated further into the interior spaces of the home, the external world was increasingly understood as more than just a world of fragmentation, it became wholly other, unintelligible, and by extension dangerous. The desire to create physical spaces of privacy distinct from the external world is characterized by the modern conception of interiority as a turning away from the social and public. The physical form of the private home is the embodiment of this concept. At the basic level, the outer walls of private spaces indicate a boundary between inner and outer realms. In this way, the wall is a transitional structure occupying both interior and exterior space simultaneously and indiscriminately. The wall only assumes a definite functional purpose

according to the needs of the builder. For the nineteenth century builder of the private home, the exterior wall fulfilled two needs: definition and protection. The wall defines the boundary of private ownership and intimate space, while also providing protection from the external. Anything which does not fall within the reach of private ownership and intimacy is unfit for protection and resigned to the realm of exteriority. Under this arrangement, the physical space of the home encourages familiarity and comfort with the private and reinforces uncertainty and fear of the public. The modern American sociologist and student of Hannah Arendt, Richard Sennet, identifies the modern retreat into interior space as a response to the fear of exposure.[8] The world outside the home, the public life of the city and the oikonomia of society, exposes the individual to uncertainty. On the streets and among the crowds,[9] the individual is forced to confront the uncertainty of his inability either to be at home in society or to live outside it altogether.[10] In the confines of the home, all experiences with the world as well as with other human beings, [are reduced] to experiences between man and himself.[11] Arendt conceives that the rise of society and displacement of the private realm, the retreat into interiority, and the rejection of the public experience, has resulted in the individual developing a sense of world alienation. I have demonstrated what affect the rise of interiority in fourth century Christian thinking, and its subsequent transformation in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, has had on the way we build, use, and think about private spaces in our built environment. However, I have only painted half the picture. For just as the realm of the interior and private exist only in so far as they are distinct from the realm of the public, the concept of private space does not exist as such unless it is distinguished from public space. It is with respect to this public realm that I will now turn my attention. Using Hannah Arendt's philosophy the public realm as the location of human Action as my foundation, I will contrast ideas about the public realm and the design and use of public space in Classical Athens to ideas about the uses and function of the public and public space in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. I will pay particular attention to showing what affect the phenomenon of modern interiority and world alienation has had in influencing trends in the design and building of public spaces such as parks, squares, and streets in Western cities.

What is the public realm? According to Hannah Arendt, the public realm is the common world that exists between humans with respect to their nature as humans. The public realm does not occupy geographical space by definition, rather it exists as a concept. The concept of the public realm can be identified by two criteria. First, the public realm is made intelligible by the appearance and mutual recognition of subjective individuals. The presence of others who see what we see and hear what we hear assures us of the reality of the world and ourselves...[12] Second, the public sphere signifies the world, in so far as it is common to all of us.[13] The public realm exists in whatever is common between humans and allows the individuals to relate. Only where things can be seen by many in a variety of aspects without changing their identity. So that those who are gathered around them know they see sameness in utter diversity, can worldly reality truly and reliably appear.[14] The public realm ceases to be when one of these criteria are not met. If individuals loose subjectivity, such as in mass society, mutual recognition becomes impossible. On the other hand, when individuals cease to be able to gather around and relate to a common world, the relations between individuals cease to have meaning. There are three fundamental human activities, or vita activa, which correspond to different conditions under which life is lived. The vita activa which founds and preserves the public realm is Action. If the public realm is the venue where man appears as man, then Action is the method. Action is the means by which humans distinguish their uniqueness in the public realm, and as such assert their existence in the world. In the public realm, the individual reveals who he is through his actions and words.[15] Action alone is the exclusive prerogative of man; neither a beast nor a god is capable of it, and only action is entirely dependant upon the constant presence of others.[16] For Arendt, Action, not reason, is the essential feature which sets man apart and above all other beings. The implication is that even a god is incapable of Action because of the limitations of omnipotence. Only the man who lives in the public sphere among other men has the opportunity to engage in this most important, distinguishing, and human activity. The nature of the relationship between Action and the public realm is one of mutual dependence. Action cannot exist outside the public realm, and the public realm cannot exist without Action and speech. Action is the only activity that goes on directly between men without the intermediary of things or matter.[17] In this way, action is the most political of all human activities because it is the one specifically characterized by plurality. This recognition of

the essentially political nature of action was realized first by the Greeks and came to fruition during the the height of Greek civilization, the Athenian polis in the fifth and fourth centuries BCE. According to Aristotle, action (praxis) and speech (lexis) are the two human activities which constitute the bios politikos, or the political life of the polis man. To be political, to live in the polis, meant that everything was decided through words and persuasion and not through force and violence.[18] The centrality of action and speech to life in the Greek polis indicates that the city-state epitomized the ideal of the public realm. Nowhere was this public dimension of the polis more evident than in the Athenian agora. The agora formed an essential aspect of life in the Greek polis and served a variety of different public functions, including civic governance, public debate and oration, music, theatre and religious dancing, and the buying and selling of goods. The unifying feature of all these discreet uses of public space was that action and language formed the basis of all public exchanges. As the embodiment of the Athenian public realm, the citizens who filled the agora were very much aware of the public context of their actions and speech, precisely because it was through them that the bios politikos was lived. In this sense, order in the agora was not imposed structurally by isolating public functions into separate spaces, but was maintained by the sanctity of the agora as public realm. What allowed the Athenian agora to be such a spectacular success in facilitating the vita activa of action and language, has more to do with the citizens desire to engage in the public realm, than any trick of architectural design. The Athenian wanted to be in the agora, because the agora embodied the bios politikos of public life. In contrast to this, the nineteenth century withdrawal from public life has rendered authentic action in modern times almost impossible. However to speak like this is to suggest that the modern individual has chosen to abandon the public realm, when in fact the reality is that an authentic public realm has not existed in any Western society for nearly two hundred years. The modern individual does not choose to ignore the public realm, the public realm is simply no longer an option. How has this state of public decay come to be? And what affect has it had on the way modern Western societies design and use public space in the built environment? Two pillars stand as essential criteria for the existence of a public realm. The death of the public realm is symptomatic of the modern inability to meet these criteria. The rise of the social realm in the eighteenth century heralded the loss of subjectivity. The traditional needs of the private realm were increasingly being fulfilled by advances in technology fuelled by rapid

industrialisation and the expansion of the market economy, such that the individual was forced to re-evaluate the function of the private realm. The new social realm was characterized by efficiency and economic interests, automation and the division of labour. In this framework, where order is governed by oikonomia, the needs of the individual are overlooked. The result was a rebellion of the individual against the increasing conformity of mass society. With the emergence of mass society, the realm of the social has finally, after several centuries of development, reaches the point where it embraces all members of a community equally...[19] This rebellion took the form of an extreme psychological as well as physical retreat into interiority. Overrun by the interests of the social realm, the public realm ceased to be the locus for authentic human action, and instead became a stage for the exploitation of self interest. What makes mass society so difficult to bear is not the number of people involved, or at least not primarily, but the fact that the world between them has lost its power to gather them together, to relate and separate them.[20] What remained of the public world between individuals who retreated into interiority was not an authentic public realm, but a realm of artifice and works. According to Charles Taylor, in the nineteenth century a new public forum was established for the exchange of ideas. This forum took advantage of new technologies in mass print media and distribution such as books, newspapers, pamphlets and other private publications. The print media provided a public space in which individuals of disparate backgrounds could gather ideas and discuss things of public importance. This new public forum discouraged face-to-face encounters, preferring instead to engage dialogue from the armchairs and desks of privacy. As a forum of public expression, print media is characterized by the feature of interiority. It is not surprising that a tradition as insular and inward looking as the West in the nineteenth century should establish a means of public expression which privileged privacy and anonymity of the individual over authentic action or speech. The print media is understood as operating in the public sphere only in so far as it is populated by the ideas and words of the general public, and is seen by the general public. However, in the Arendtian conception of what constitutes the public realm, this is not enough. For the true public realm occurs when human action and speech are exchanged authentically between individuals without recourse to third party-mediums, and when the exchange is not burdened by insularity. For Taylor the modern public sphere is a space of discussion. It happens through our media, through public discourse, and through other cultural mediums such as art. For Taylor the

public sphere is not a place where action happens, but a place where consensus is drawn. The only distinction Taylor makes between the ancient sense of the public sphere and the modern is that the interlocutors in the public realm of ancient Greece were ultimately the same people who later made decisions in the government. Whereas the discussion which takes place in the modern public forum of the print media is independent of government. Thus the modern public forum is extra-political, and serves a social function as as a sort of check and balance mechanism against the state.[21] To my mind, however, Taylor's thinking gives an inadequate account of the problem with the modern public realm. Taylor wishes to reduce the importance of the public realm, in both Classical Athens and modern Western societies as nothing more than mere byproducts of democracy. Accordingly, the extra-political status the public realm has taken on since the eighteenth century only reinforces the modern disassociation between public and the political. The failure of nineteenth century print media to sustain a forum where authentic human action and dialogue could take place has as much to do with the confused values of the society in which it was born, as well as the physical limitations of the medium in failing to provide a space for personal encounters between individuals. Public spaces are the most essential dimension of the built environment because they are the forms in which the individual confronts their essential nature as social and political beings. How public space is designed is informed by considering the social value of the public realm. When public spaces are used, either in accordance with the functional purpose of the space, or in some other unforeseen way, the individual engages the public realm in a dialogue. This exchange between human and built environment reveals how that individual understands himself as a private being in relation to the public realm. In this way, the built environment plays an equally important role in shaping the individual as the individual has in shaping the built environment. The modern condition of world alienation and the lost sense of a public realm has dramatically shaped the form of public space in the modern built environment. Since the retreat into interiority in the eighteenth century, the originary function of the public realm has been forgotten. The individual has grown increasingly more insular while the external world has become more uncertain. The modern man privileges private space above all else. His privacy is guaranteed by law as a right in Western societies. He carries his privacy with him everywhere he goes; it extends outside his body about an arms length. You can see him defend it when he

changes seats on the bus because someone is sitting too close. The fear of exposure leads to the creation of public spaces which seek to minimize spontaneous and random encounters with the other. We minimize the threat posed by this external other by building public spaces which discourage authentic action and speech. The modern city, in North America particularly, is devoid of public squares or forums. When they are present in the modern city, the originary purpose of the space has been forgotten. Instead the public spaces in the modern built environment correspond to the values of the society. Utilitarian spaces such as roads are built on a grid system to ensure order and efficiency, and urban parks which designed to help the individual escape from the city rather than authentically engage the public realm. Roads have always served a functional purpose for the people who build them and use them, and the built environments which they connect. They are arterial veins which allow the movement of vital resources such as humans, food, and trade between locations. Because of their immense significance to the vitality of the city, the outline and design of streets has always been of special importance to city planners both ancient and modern. Babylonia and ancient Egypt built their roads in a grid pattern. These grids became expressions of culture and the order imposed by intersecting right angles symbolized the rationality of civilized life.[22] The idea of intersecting roads to indicate the spiritual centre of the city was adopted by the Romans, who built their cities and towns by establishing an axis at the centre which was meant to be a heavenly copy of celestial order. In contrast to the balance between civic order and spiritual harmony demonstrated by the Roman design of roads, town planning and road design in the Middle Ages was positively spastic. The affect of the Augustinian doctrine of spiritual interiority held Western society in a grip which transformed the way people thought about public space. The primacy of the church had achieved new heights in the Middle Ages. The medieval builders... knew only that secular space had to look unlike sacred space. This happened as the secular buildings of these cities grew jumbled together, the streets twisted and inefficient, while the churches were carefully sited, their construction precise, their design elaborately calculated.[23] The Medieval conflict between sacred space and secular space is simply another manifestation of the classical dichotomy promulgated by Plato and later taken up into Christian thinking by Augustine. It is interesting to observe how radically Medieval builders took to embodying the distinction between sacred and secular space in the design of the town even to the point of making civic life inefficient.

In the modern city the grid system has been reintroduced as the preferred model for the design of roads. North American cities were the first to use the grid pattern in a different way than the Romans. Whereas the Roman city was walled and growth and density encouraged within the limits of the town, the North American conception of the limitlessness of land and bounty of resources built gridded cities to extend seemingly indefinitely. American's saw the natural world around them as limitless... the conviction that people can infinitely expand the spaces of human settlement is the first way, geographically, of neutralizing the power of any geographical space.[24] We can see evidence of this at work in the vast gridded expanse of streets in Manhattan above Greenwich Village, with numbered streets extended north well above two hundred. The North American tradition of urban planning in the nineteenth century was to impose the grid form on the land regardless of the natural contours of the site or the problems of rivers.[25] This attempt to impose order on an unsympathetic natural space may be a response to the modern disconnect from the exterior world. The desire to extend streets indefinitely into the horizon may be a reaction against the modern experience of decreased horizons. Arendt holds that precisely when the immensity of available space on earth was discovered, the famous shrinkage of the globe began... Men now live in an earth-wide continuous whole where even the notion of distance... has yielded before the onslaught of speed.[26] The advances in technology and efficiency which are driving the process of decreased horizons are the same processes responsible for the alienation of modern man. The North American fantasy of limitless city horizons manifests itself in this peculiar manner of building public space. The most obvious topographical difference between the classical city such as Athens or Rome and modern cities like Toronto or New York is the lack of a defined civic centre. In Athens it was the agora, and in Rome the forum. Civic centres do not exist in the modern city for the simple reason that civic life is not a feature of the modern experience. Roman town planning conceived the axis of intersecting roads as the natural location around which the community centre should form. North American planning rejected creating civic centres because there was simply no use for such a public space. Even European cities which still have public squares, plazas, or piazzas, in their urban topography do not make use of the space in the way the space suggests. Often these open squares are ringed by restaurants or cafs catering to tourists too modern to understand the significance of the public space they occupy. The closest thing New York has to a centre is Times Square, which is the handmaid of

the market economy and the bastard child of the social realm. Whenever American's of the era of high capitalism thought of an alternative to the grid, they thought of bucolic relief, such as a leafy park or promenade, rather than a more arousing street, square or centre in which to experience the complex life of the city.[27] The urban park constitutes a distinctly modern form of public space in the city which has historically served a very different function than the civic centre. The history of the modern urban park dates back to eighteenth century Paris and London. Planners conceived the function of these pockets of greenery in the city as lungs to filter and reduce pollution, rather than as retreats from city life. The first urban parks, such as Regents Park in London, were enclosed by fences and not accessible by citizens. The idea was to direct the flow of people around the park parameter to breath the fresh air.[28] Although the urban parks which dot modern cities today, are open spaces free for all to enjoy. However in some way they represent closure and isolation in ways which are perhaps more profound than the fenced parks of a few centuries ago. The prototypical example of this is New York's Central Park. Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux designed Central Park with the idea in mind to create a space in which one could forget that they were living in the midst of a metropolis. In this way, Central Park is not a place where the individual goes to be in public. Rather, it was design with the idea of escape, turning inwards, and denial of the exterior and public realm. Perhaps Olmsted and Vaux should be praised as visionaries of modern dissatisfaction and Central Park as a masterpiece of modern world alienation.

Works Cited Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Taylor, Charles. Modern Social Imaginaries. London: Duke University Press, 2004. Taylor, Charles. Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Sennet, Richard. The Conscience of the Eye: The Design and Social Life of Cities. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1990. Sennet, Richard. Flesh and Stone: The Body and the City in Western Civilization. New York: W. W Norton & Company, 1994. [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Augustine, Saint, Bishop of Hippo. De Vera Religione, XXXIX.72. Taylor, Charles. Modern Social Imaginaries. p 71 Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. P 38 Ibid. p 39 Sennet, Richard. The Conscience of the Eye: The Design and Social Life of Cities. P 21 Ibid. p 27 Ibid. 26 Sennet, p 19-31 Ibid. xiii

[10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28]

Arendt, 39 Ibid. 254 Arendt, p 50 Ibid. 52 Ibid. p 57 Ibid. 179 Arendt, p. 22-23 Ibid. 7 Ibid. 26 Ibid. p 41 Ibid. 53 Taylor, modern social imaginaries 89-90 Sennet. Flesh and stone. P 47 Ibid. p 12 Ibid. 48 Sennet, conscience of the eye, 50 Arendt, p 250 Sennet, conscience of the eye, p. 56 Sennet, Flesh and Stone, p. 325