The Virtual Space Theory

When lecturing on The Virtual Space Theory, a question that occasionally arises is the particular case of mirrors. Mirrors provide visual experiences via an object that does not physically contain any visual content. This fact is similar to the idea of virtuality as defined by The Virtual Space Theory. So what is the nature of what we see in mirrors? Is it or is it not virtual? This is indeed a confusing matter, and the following discussion about it, therefore, is suitable mostly for readers who are already somewhat familiar with The Virtual Space Theory.

Before entering this discussion, let’s begin by accurately addressing the topic using the terminology of The Virtual Space Theory. According to the Theory, the term ‘virtual’ describes visible objects that are located inside of virtual space. Virtual space, in turn, is defined as the visible space we can experience through pictorial objects such as paintings, photographs, and films, or what The Virtual Space Theory generally calls devices of illusion. The question before us, then, is whether or not mirrors can also be considered to be a type of ‘device of illusion’ through which virtual space can be experienced.

The Virtual Space Theory defines a device of illusion as a physical arrangement of physical matter which allows a person to experience through it something that is not physically there – the actual location of what is seen through it is within virtual space. However, a close comparison of this definition of devices of illusion to the nature of mirrors reveals two major differences:

Firstly, even though a mirror is indeed a physical object, it is not quite an ‘arrangement of matter’ in a similar way that paint on canvas or pixels on a screen are. The surface of the mirror is of course material, but the particular visual pattern that it presents is not part of the object itself – it is rather a redirection of light that originates elsewhere. That is the whole purpose of a mirror: to forward the visual pattern of light that reaches it with as little influence over that visual pattern as possible. As for a device of illusion, light either bounces off it (canvas, paper, etc.), emanates from it (LCD screens), or is projected onto it (projection screens). Yet in either case, the particular visual pattern of the device of illusion is not inherent to the ambient light that comes from its environment – it is inherent to the surface itself. This is due to the essence of a device of illusion: to present a crafted (essentially) flat pattern which can be visually interpreted as if it were showing objects in a space.

The second difference is that even though what is seen in a mirror (similar to devices of illusion) is indeed not located ‘physically there’ where the mirror image makes it seem to be, it is nevertheless located within the mirror’s physical environment. A possible exception is a distorting mirror – as seen in the example below – which makes the place and its contents seem altered in some way. Yet even then, the resulting image is still fundamentally dependent on the mirror’s physical location. A device of illusion, on the other hand, has no such limitations on the visual contents that can be seen through it. It can present any virtual place as long as the visual pattern can be arranged to make it seem as if that virtual place was located just behind the device of illusion’s surface.

The close relation of mirrors to pictorial illusions has made them a recurring motif in the works of many artists, as seen in this example by M.C. Escher. According to The Virtual Space Theory, since it is a pictorial image, of course everything that is seen in it is located inside of virtual space. Yet in this context, our interest is rather in understanding the scene which it presents to us, and so we should approach it as a suggested physical experiment. Therefore, if you were to hold such a spherical mirror in your own hand, we could surely say that the mirror and your hand are physical objects, but what about the person reflected in the mirror and the space behind them?

According to the above analysis, then, the visual contents seen in a mirror are not in virtual space and they are not virtual. What mirrors show are simply physical objects, which in addition to their direct visibility, also have a visual reflection in a mirror. The actual location of these objects, however, is nearby (or not so near) in physical space. Such a visual phenomenon is indeed fascinating, yet it is very different from that of pictorial illusions as defined by The Virtual Space Theory. The term ‘virtual’, therefore, despite its current popular use, is both unrelated to the case of mirrors and unnecessary for its understanding.

It is an age-old phenomenon, and it has an equally old term for describing it:

A reflection.

The winter holiday season is also a celebration of lights, and many cities pride themselves on the beautiful light installations along their streets and on their buildings. One such type of light installation takes the form of the projection of images onto physical buildings. There are many examples of such light shows, which vary in quality as well as in their degree of architectural emphasis. Here is one recent example from the city of Lyon’s festival of lights:

Another example is the following:

Probably one of the most suitable examples for this discussion, however, is the now famous light projection presented last summer in Kharkov, Ukraine:

Such light projections raise questions regarding both the nature of their visual content as well as their interaction with the buildings onto which they are projected. What is the actual location of what is seen in them? What is the role of the physical building? What happens to it when it receives the projections? This post, therefore, addresses these questions from the point of view of The Virtual Space Theory.

Since light projections can change in time different segments of a projection may employ different types of images altogether. In this case, some segments present abstract patterns of light onto the building, some segments present pictorial images onto it, and some actually transform and redefine the building itself. The first two types use the building as merely a neutral screen on which to project light patterns that are essentially independent of the building, which could be easily replaced with another building without fundamentally altering the nature of the resulting light show. In such cases, therefore, the term ‘virtual’ applies only to the visual content seen in the pictorial segments of a projection, but not to the light projection itself.

The truly fascinating segments of such light shows, however, are those which directly relate to the architectural structure of the building itself. The visual content of such a light projection is an alternative version of that building – whether deforming, collapsing, or evolving – presented in the exact same physical location as the original physical building, while appearing to replace it. Additionally, the magic of the last example is in its seamless transitions between the different types of images, and their resulting in a single continuous presentation made for a specific physical location.

This type of light projection is probably best understood by comparing it to the ages-old art of ‘trompe l’oeil’ mural paintings. Made already in antiquity and reaching wide production during the Baroque period, these were interior paintings made on walls and ceilings so as to appear to extend the space of the rooms in which they were painted. In the book The Architecture of Virtual Space, I proposed that their key difference compared to regular pictorial paintings is that in addition to creating virtual places, trompe l’oeil mural paintings present their virtual places as if they were a direct extension of the physical location in which they were painted.

For example, Fra Angelico’s Madonna of the Shadows from 1439, with its painted columns and their shadows, gives its whole scene a sense of direct presence in the convent of San Marco where it was painted:

Contemporary uses of trompe l’oeil paintings probably tend be found more on outdoor surfaces, providing added interest to not-so-interesting locations. One example is the work of mural painter John Pugh:

Architectural light projections, therefore, combine the effect of outdoor trompe l’oeil paintings with the added dimension of time. The buildings they create are completely virtual and are located inside of virtual space, yet through their particular way of presentation they make us perceive them as if they were actually located inside of the physical world. This is achieved by two main means. First, the architecture of the created virtual building is designed in full accordance with that of the existing physical building onto which it is projected. Second, the context of the virtual building’s presentation in an already-physical location inevitably adjusts our perception such that we accept what we see as if it too were located in the physical world – right there along with the street, the trees, the wind, and our own physical selves.

In addition, when such a transformation is successful, then even the parts of the show that are regular pictorial projections of a non-architectural nature receive a rare added depth of their own. Normally, the effect of a pictorial image is to make us perceive a virtual place that is located somewhere else – that is, somewhere inside of virtual space. In this case, however, the successful integration of pictorial images with the virtual building makes them appear as if their visual content were actually located within the volume of the virtual building itself. And since the projection of the virtual building onto the physical building already makes the virtual building appear to be located in the physical world, then even the content of the pictorial images now seem to be part of the physical world just as well!

By the use of this cunning device, then, a virtual fish could be made to appear as if it were swimming behind and in front of the façade of a physical building in the physical world… or in other words – as it would seem – a virtual fish in physical space.

How do architectural drawings and models compare to physically-built buildings? What is the exact connection between them? Does the answer depend on whether or not the architectural project exists also as a physical building? These are common questions in the discussion of architecture, and this relationship is sometimes described using the term ‘virtual’. But is it a correct description, and if it is, in which sense of the word is it so? This post and the next address these questions from the point of view of The Virtual Space Theory.

I believe that one of the reasons the term ‘virtual’ is so often used to describe the elusive relationship between buildings and architectural drawings and models is that ‘virtual’ is an elusive term to which various meanings can easily be attached – as I discussed in an earlier post. There are quite a few ways of understanding what an architectural drawing or model is, and strangely enough, most of them can be expressed using the term ‘virtual’ – albeit meaning something else entirely each time:

It is not the real building – We might consider a physically-built building to be ‘the real thing’, and thus the drawing or model as not being so. In this case, the term ‘virtual’ would fit well using its popular meaning as ‘non-real’.

It is an imaginary building – We might think of drawings and models as a representation of a building that exists only in the minds of the people who are making or viewing them. If so, we could apply the common use of ‘virtual’ as referring to something whose existence is only ‘imaginary’.

It is a computer-generated building – Since drawings and models are increasingly produced using digital technology, we might associate their contents with the tools with which they were produced. In such case, we would use ‘virtual’ as a synonym for ‘digital’.

It will/could have become a building – One of the philosophical uses of ‘virtual’ refers to the unrealized potential of something, like an acorn that holds within it the potential to become a fully grown tree. In that somewhat poetic sense, an architectural drawing or model might be considered to be a ‘virtual’ building. Even so, it is an idea which the term ‘potential’ expresses much more accurately than ‘virtual’ does.

From the point of view of The Virtual Space Theory, however, ‘virtual’ has none of the above meanings, and none of them fully captures the essence of what architectural drawings or models are: The obvious fact that they are not the same as a physically-built building is hardly their main attribute; Imagination is a mental faculty which was (hopefully) used in the process of designing the building; Digital tools may or may not have been used to produce the drawings (and sometimes also the models); And to consider them to be ‘potential buildings’ overlooks their particular role in the fulfillment of such potential.

So what exactly are architectural drawings and models? An accurate definition of them is the topic of the next post.

This post continues the discussion of architectural drawings and models from the point of view of The Virtual Space Theory. Vladimir Tatlin’s design for The Monument to The Third International (1919) will provide the examples in this discussion.

Architectural drawings and models are primarily a means of communication. They allow a team of planners to communicate their ideas during the process of designing a building, they allow them to communicate the proposal to the client, and they enable the builders to be directed towards its correct construction. For such purpose, planners have several means of communication available, and each of them embodies a different kind of relationship to the physically constructed building:

Model – a model is a physical simulation. Though it may differ from the building it simulates in materials, scale or level of detail, within the context of an architectural project, it is simply a physical object that stands for another physical object (whether the latter exists at that time or not). Nothing virtual here.

Drawing – Plans, elevations, and sections are a language, or what I call in my book The Architecture of Virtual Space a ‘visual text’. Among the people who have learned this language, the purpose of such visual text is to invoke a mental image of a building in the mind’s eye of each person who ‘reads’ it – even though there is no such building in the drawing itself. When such ‘mental buildings’ are successfully formed, they too can be argued to be a simulation of a physical building, and hopefully, the mental simulation of everyone involved is more or less identical. Yet it is only the mental building that is the simulation – not the drawing which invoked it. Even so, according to The Virtual Space Theory, mental is still not the same as virtual.

Perspective and isometric views – Whether drawn by hand or produced using digital tools, these are pictorial images through which we can see a visual space with a building located inside of it. They are distinct from architectural drawings, but they are another key element of architectural communication and will assist us in this discussion. According to The Virtual Space Theory, this is the only case in which the use of the term ‘virtual’ is actually appropriate. In that sense, such images show a virtual building, and we could even say that this building functions as a ‘virtual simulation’ of the physical building that it stands for. Yet here too, it is not the image itself that simulates the physical building. What performs the simulation is rather the virtual building that is seen inside of the visible space of this image.

Therefore, architectural drawings and models are not virtual. They are simply a collection of methods for creating a simulation of a physical building – or in technical terms, a simulacrum. A model is a physical simulacrum; plans, sections, and elevations are a means of invoking a mental simulacrum; and perspective and isometric views create a virtual simulacrum.

Ultimately, however, their function as simulacra is independent of the changing status of the building they were made to simulate. Whether or not such a building has ever been (or ever will be) physically built does not affect the role of its models and drawings. In other words, if a project is cancelled, its means of communication do not change their nature as a result. As long as the context of their production was to communicate a physical architecture project, they remain methods of creating physical, mental, and virtual simulacra of a physical building.

The experience of theater is quite unique: You enter a hall filled with seats facing a curtain over a stage, and at a certain moment the lights go out, the curtain rises, and a seemingly other world is revealed – lying physically right there in front of you. What is the nature of this ‘other world’? Does the term ‘virtual’ capture it? If it does, how exactly, and if not, why not? While such questions have surely been addressed from the perspective of theater theory, this blog post rather discusses them from the point of view of The Virtual Space Theory.

It might initially seem natural to describe the phenomenon of theater as ‘virtual’, but this is mainly due to the multiple inconsistent uses of this term as discussed in a previous post. And although it might still make sense metaphorically, this term does not fully capture the essence of the issue. The key to realizing this is to ask ourselves: where is what we experience in a theater?

To begin with, according to The Virtual Space Theory, visual experiences can only take place in one of three types of space: physical, mental, and virtual. Physical space is the physical world in which our bodies and their surroundings are located; mental space is our mind’s eye, where we replay visual memories and construct visual ideas; and virtual space is the space that is seen through pictorial images of any kind. The exact distinction between the three as well as this particular definition of virtual space are fully elaborated in my book “The Architecture of Virtual Space” and in the article derived from it.

From this point of view, then, in which of these three spaces does theater occur? The answer is simple and straightforward: in physical space. Since the stage is physical, the sets are physical, and the actors are physical – the phenomenon of theater occurs in physical space. To understand theater, therefore, is to understand what exactly happens in the physical world during the performance of a theater play. This is probably best accomplished by comparing the physical stage before and after the curtain rises:

For example, let’s take a theatrical performance of the ancient Greek play Oedipus Rex by Sophocles. If we were to walk onto the stage and peek behind the curtain just before the performance begins, what might we find? A physical stage that is within the physical building of the particular theater we are visiting; various props and constructions made of wood or plaster, covered in paint so as to appear to be stone, arranged such that they seem like part of the ancient Greek city of Thebes; and actors wearing make-up and costumes soon after having worn jeans and talking on a cell phone just a little while earlier. And yet, once the lights go out and the curtain rises, the physical space of the stage and everything on it is totally transformed: What now lies before us is the ancient city of Thebes, it is built of stone, and the people walking in it are living and talking ancient Greeks. Furthermore, it is precisely because this is so that we even go to the theater.

What exactly is the nature of this transformation? Since it is all happening in the physical world, the term ‘virtual’ does not quite capture it. Alternatively, to say that it’s all in our mind does not account for what is providing such an experience in the first place. Rather, what is happening here is a simulation: Within the socially agreed convention of the time and space of a theatrical performance, the stage, sets, and actors function as physical simulacra (or ‘objects that perform a simulation’). Concertedly, they transform from mere stage, sets, and actors to become ancient Thebes, buildings, kings and queens. Yet there is nothing virtual about it.

This, however, does not mean that virtual space can never participate in the formation of such a theatrical experience – quite the contrary, it frequently does. To create the simulation of a (factual or fictional) physical place on a theater stage, a theatrical production is not limited only to props and physical constructions, but may also employ pictorial images:

Often made on a large scale and strategically positioned on the stage, the virtual places that are seen through such images can be made to appear to be direct extensions of the physical space of the stage. In such cases, the virtual places and virtual objects that are seen through these images function as virtual simulacra.

When such images are placed alongside the physical props that are located on the stage, virtual and physical simulacra seamlessly merge in the creation of a continuous visible world – a simulation of another time and place enacted for us in the physical space of the theater hall at the present moment.