NOTES
ON PRISON
IT TAKES FEW SECONDS TO LOAD THE DIAGRAM
05–08–25
Maria Gaspar Invisible Things Are Not Necessarily Not-There (after T.M.), 2023, 23 Glass casts of jail bars, between 10”- 24” each.
(Screenshots from Instagram)
Jane Bennett, philosopher of new materialism, writes about metal as a vibrant material in her book Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. 3 Using the example of the chains with which Zeus bound Prometheus, she illustrates the story of metal as a passive, unchanging material, whose substance alters neither in surface nor in depth. 4 Its most solid characteristic became its dominant attribute and was inscribed into linguistic metaphors (iron cage, brass tacks, steely glares, iron wills, and solid gold hits). The same quality of metal is recognized by Gottfried Semper, who associates it with suitability for tectonic purposes. 5 However, Bennett points out that this is only one part of its story. She reveals its vitality in contact with electricity, its ability to resonate (and shape SOUNDSCAPES), and to bend under high temperatures. 6 We can also recall corrosion, whether rust or verdigris. Metal has many forms of vitality, and it is therefore worth asking why, and by whom, only its solid and resilient aspects are emphasized.
Prison bars appear in two forms within the prison complex. The first type, SEPARATING the outside world from the interior world of imprisonment and forming part of the PERIMETER WALL or fence, serves primarily as a symbolic marker of security. They remind society that the threat is confined to a specific place, and that the apparatus is fulfilling its alleged protective function. It protects by exposing imprisonment in the visual stripes of reality. Inside the prison, bars are replicated (in place of doors, on windows, subdividing corridors) to delineate cages that define the extent of permitted movement. 7 All such usage suggests that this overused design element of incarceration bears no relation to rehabilitation – the proclaimed function of the prison. 8
Yet prison is far from the only typology in which bars are employed. Perhaps the most common examples are zoos and other entertainment industries that exploit animal beings for profit. From the perspective of vibrant matter and posthumanism, the criminals would be those who choose to commodify living beings for capital accumulation, though this is not how reality is currently framed. We must learn to recognize who places bars between us and others, and critically evaluate who is perceived as a criminal, and for what reason (see CELL). A common example might be the use of bars on ground-floor apartments. Their presence implies that any one of us is viewed as a potential offender. The effect of bars can be seen beyond prisons in various objects, materials, and forms – they are elements that determine who is being controlled and who controls; who is the criminal, and who has the right to gaze.
Michel Foucault, in his interview On Attica with John Simon, points out the overuse of bars in cases of the seemingly dangerous, whereas in instances of truly dangerous and cruel phenomena (such as war, famine, genocide), they are absent. 9 One interpretation could be that bars, as material co-creators of carcerality, appear only where the system demands the attention of the public and their redundant presence locks our thinking and action within the limits of carceral capitalism. We must cultivate a sensitivity that allows us to see bars (as control and limitation) even where they are not immediately visible. This theme is addressed in the work of Eva Koťátková, who highlights the constraints and bindings imposed by convention and normativity that fail to respect the diversity of both human and more-than-human bodies.
The aim of this text is to provide a platform for reflecting on how solid forms of reality and entrenched assumptions can be bent and disrupted. A remarkable example is the artistic project Force of Things by the artist Maria Gaspar, who, during the demolition of the Cook County Jail in Chicago, salvaged metal bars, cut them into pieces, and assembled them into a musical instrument resembling a xylophone (see and listen above
One of a vision is community protest against the carceral system with the visual language of the appartus, see the ICON of this contribution in the homepage scroll and see LANDSCAPE for NIABY context.
1 Bree Carlton Mason – Emma Russell (ed), Resisting Carceral Violence: Women's Imprisonment and the Politics of Abolition, London 2019, pp. 149–150.
2 Teela Sanders, et al, Trans Architecture and the Prison as Archive: ‘Don’t Be a Queen and You Won’t Be Arrested, Punishment & Society XXV, 2023, no. 3, pp. 742–765.
3 Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things, Durham 2010.
4 Ibidem, pp. 55–60.
5 Gottfried Semper, Style in the Technical and Tectonic Arts; or, Practical Aesthetics, 1861–1863, Los Angeles 2004, p. 866.
6 See note 3, p. 60.
7 Michel Foucault – Prisons Information Group, Intolerable: Writings from Michel Foucault and the Prisons Information Group (1970–1980), Minnesota 2021, p. 294.
8 Isabelle Kirkham-Lewitt (ed), Paths to Prison: On the Architectures of Carcerality, New York 2020, p. 31.
9 See note 7, p. 294.
F oto Tim Crocker
ADÉLA VAVŘÍKOVÁ
THEORETICAL TEXT
The project’s political dimension contributes to the discourse on prison abolition, while also serving as a professional appeal to the architectural community: to learn to recognise spaces designed for oppression and violence, and to refuse further participation in their production. Instead, it calls for the use of imagination as a design tool, encouraging the creation of a society grounded in care and social equality.
At the top of the webpage, readers will find (1) a list of frequently asked questions related to prison abolition, (2) a glossary of terms, and (3) a manual explaining the structure of the online archive, including its categories, tags, and entries.