The repressive nature of the materiality of prisons and other carceral spaces is partially legible through the floor plan strategies of spatial sequencing and connection. WALLS, ceilings, floors, doors, BARS, and windows are architectural elements that materialize possibel separation. Zoning represents one of the most universal strategies used both for disciplining and discriminating human bodies. It embodies the organization of spatial hierarchy, in which strict separation must be achieved. The repetition of typological units within enclosed zones ensures the restriction and control of movement. The most common form is a “rational” geometric arrangement that evokes the image of just punishment.
The description of institutional separation – i.e., the segregation of a segment of society into a closed architectural object – serves as the opening to Foucault’s canonical work Discipline and Punish: the birth of the prison. 1 The new enclosed prison architecture was integrated into the state apparatus and began to conceal its operation. Absorbed bodies were transformed within these spaces into objects of observation and new knowledge. Unethical and violent experiments on incarcerated individuals, hidden from the oversight of the public and media, have accompanied the prison’s existence from the beginning (e.g., UCSF research, MK-Ultra, experiments during Herero and Nama genocide, etc.). The most affected are marginalized communities, which the neoliberal apparatus criminalizes and exploits through the prison-industrial complex. 2
The effective management of the prison relies entirely on zoning. Architectural separation is based on grouping necessary functions into distinct units for a limited number of incarcerated individuals (the number is restricted to prevent COLLECTIVE resistance). The system of separation into independent units enables not only efficient management and control of movement but also differentiated treatment of incarcerated persons. Each unit may have its own set of rules and, in most cases, its own form of control – counting of prisoners in cell corridors, formation and line-walking control in transitional corridors, motion detectors, and heartbeat sensors. A violent form of control follows time spent in visitation rooms (i.e., after the most fragile contact with reality), during which incarcerated individuals are subjected to strip searches (the body becomes an object into which the system may legally enter without the consent of the imprisoned). 3
The individual layers of separation can be traced through the constant replication and addition of locks – that is, the inability to leave without the permission and action of a supervisory figure. 4 French architect Christian Demonchy describes the structure of the prison as a matryoshka doll (x-ray in left column); the moment of incarceration repeats with each additional layer of separation, from the enclosing wall to the basic functional unit, the PRISONCELL. The cell is the key element that reveals the prison system and its retributive nature, which bears no relation to rehabilitation. 5 Attached to the cell are showers, a corridor, and possibly a cultural room (this is a shared description within the referential literature). This structure is again locked. Another layer with workshops (internal workplaces) and courtyards exists above it. Work and recreational spaces often serve multiple independent units, which access them at different times to prevent encounters and collective solidarity (a carceral argument would use the term “violence prevention”). Analogously, prisoners take turns in visiting rooms, where they are reminded that beyond the PERIMETERWALL lies yet another layer of separation – separation from family, community, and, for example, their native language, culture, or climate. This separation occurs on both material and immaterial, human and more-than-human levels. 6
A constant reminder of separation within the prison is the presence of the guard, who may move freely through the facility and exit it daily. While they share the same physical environment, their experience of the space is dramatically different. 7 Since the 1960s, the relationship between prisoners and guards has also been shaped by the introduction of technological surveillance (CCTV), which depersonalizes the already repressive and austere structure, and in some facilities, limits contact significantly. 8 The permeability of zones to supervisory personnel is a central mechanism of power, enabling the system to maintain continuous control and mobility within its domain. 9 The principle of separation contains yet another layer of power – it allows carceral ideology to spread beyond the limits of its material form (see also the semi-permeability of the perimeter wall).
Most of the architectural community likely associates zoning with the Athens Charter, a document published as the conclusion of the 1933 International Congress of Modern Architecture (CIAM). The focus of the congress was a model of the Functional city, with an emphasis on spatial planning and development. Zoning by function was determined to be one of the tools for creating the new modern city. 10 Even then, zoning represented an attempt by Western white men to control and manage the urban environment and significantly contributed to the gentrification and discrimination of poorer neighborhoods. 11 A literal example in practice is the violent form of spatial planning known as Redlining, in which some services (e.g., mortgages, insurance loans, and other financial tools) are systematically denied to residents of certain neighborhoods based on race or ethnic origin. These areas are then labeled as risky or dangerous, with virtually no investment in their development or care. 12 Thus, zoning has become part of the control mechanism of the neoliberal state structure and contributes to social stratification and the concentration of wealth. 13
The physical spaces of separation strategies (and it is crucial to emphasize: not only prisons) reflect the apparatus of power. Zoning is a mechanism for the exercise of power, and architecture is its material tool. In an interview with Leopold Lambert, editor-in-chief of The Funambulist reminds us that architecture is inherently violent, as it always creates a physical separation of space, which has limited capacity. Even if designed as caring and open, it can always reach a threshold at which it becomes violent. 14 Prisons represent the cruelest manifestation of this idea – not because the architecture is entirely different from other buildings, but because it is inhabited by people who cannot leave. An open-air prison is, for instance, represented by the occupied territory of Palestine, enclosed by a high concrete wall illegally erected by the state of Israel. 15
The wall not only violently cuts through urban space, heritage sites, agricultural landscapes, communities, homes, and transit spaces but primarily restricts and prolongs the movement of the Palestinian population. Passage through a checkpoint (administered by the Israeli army) is easily accessible to white-skinned individuals, people with “recognized passport documents,” etc., and typically inaccessible to local Palestinian residents. 15 Furthermore, Israel controls the supply of resources (electricity, drinking water, humanitarian aid), which have been extremely regulated in the past and at times entirely cut off. The similarity between the perimeter wall of a prison and the illegal wall in Palestine is more than alarming, and the only solution to this resemblance is the thorough abolition of carceral practices at all levels. In the case of prisons, a complete rejection of their existence and of any participation in their construction, reconstruction, or relocation.
1Michel Foucault, Dohlížet a trestat: kniha o zrodu vězení, Prague 2000, p. 64.
3 Bree Carlton Mason – Emma Russell (ed), Resisting Carceral Violence: Women's Imprisonment and the Politics of Abolition, London 2019, p. 238.
4 Dominique Moran, Carceral Geography: Spaces and Practices of Incarceration, London 2018, p. 76.
5 Christian Demonchy, L'architecture des prisons modèles françaises In: Philippe Artières – Pierre Lascoumes, Gouverner, enfermer: La prison, un modèle indépassable, Paris 2004, pp. 269–293.
6 See note 4, pp. 90–92.
7 Susan Schuppli, Material Witness: Media, Forensics, Evidence, Cambridge 2020, p. 2.
15 United Nations, Ban says Israel’s construction of West Bank wall violates international law, fuels Mid-East tensions, available at: https://news.un.org/en/story/2014/07/472712, accessed on 15 Apr 2025.
01 Original Flooplan (1829, John Haviland)
The Separate/Silent System
Designed for 250 inmates, inspirade by monastery regime
02 Orange /corridors
03 Blue /cells
04 Purple /yards
05 Extensions over years until closure (1971)
End of silent system in 1913 due overcrow
Final capacity 1700 regime
06 Orange /new corridors
07 Blue /new cells (more floors as well)
08 Grey /places for work, dining, hospital,
death row, auto repair, library
THEORETICAL TEXT The online archive NOTES ON PRISON forms part of a diploma project undertaken at the Academy of Arts, Architecture and Design in Prague, within Studio Architecture I. The overarching aim of the archive is to present and describe the practices, strategies, and associated architectural matter through which power is exercised within the prison system. These practices and spatial elements are subsequently revealed within different contexts and typologies.
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.