Space, and consequently that which encloses it, are much more central to all of us in our everyday lives than
purely technical, aesthetic or even semiotic interpretation would suggest. Space is both that which brings us
together and simultaneously that which separates us from each other. It is thus crucial to the way our relationships
work. Space is the essential stuff of a very fundamental and universal form of communication.
The human language of space, whilst it has its cultural variations, can be observed all over the world wherever and
whenever people come together. In particular in this book we are interested in the space created in and around
architecture. Architecture organizes and structures space for us, and its interiors and the objects enclosing and
inhabiting its rooms can facilitate or inhibit our activities by the way they use this language. Because this language
is not heard or seen directly, and certainly not written down, it gets little attention in a formal sense. However, we
all make use of it throughout all of our lives as we move about in space and relate ourselves to others. Perhaps we tend
only to notice this language when it is in some way abused.
When a person pushes in front of you in a queue, you feel offended not just because you are one place further back but
also because they failed to respect the rules. In most situations where we queue there are almost token signals from the
physical environment that we should behave in this highly artificial way. The rope barriers some times used to form queues
in public places are hardly able to contain a crowd would contain a crowd physically, and yet without them the crowd would
probably push and shove in a chaotic and possibly aggressive manner.
Our civilization and culture enables us to be remarkably co-operative, even when we are actually competing for limited tickets
at the theatre or sale bargains in the shop. However, remove all the queuing signals from the environment and our behaviors
can rapidly regress! When we talk to each other, the space between us is part of our communication. We probably all know a
friend or colleague who habitually stands too close when conversing, touches you just too much for comfort, and generally
seems rather more familiar than feels appropriate. The verbal language might well be at odds with the communication through
the language of space, and we feel uncomfortable.
We can get remarkably irritated by strange, insensitive or just thoughtless failures of other people to use the language
of space properly - the stranger who comes and sits at your table in a café even though other tables are empty; the newspaper
boy who fails to shut the front gate after delivering the morning newspaper; the neighbour who habitually parks in front of
your house rather than hers; the chairman of a meeting who arrives late and finds someone already sitting in the chair most
suited to running the meeting.
Buildings can fail to speak the language of space properly just as much as people can. The American embassy in Singapore may
have an interesting architectural form, but it seems consistently to send out the wrong signals. As you approach it, the
building appears secretive and forbidding. It even seems to have a single eye from which you can imagine the occupants
examining their visitors! The approach to the building offers no shade from the sun in a climate where all well-mannered
buildings should. None of this is very welcoming.
