The main point of this week’s reading of Peter Jones’ Building the Empire of the Gaze: The Modern Movement and the Surveillance Society,  is that the overuse of glass in Modern design equates to an over-visible and overly surveilled society. This excessive use of transparency and overly distant sightlines created panoptic culture with no privacy. The ocularcentricity of Modern design had undertones of power and oversight under the guise of open sightlines.

In Modernism, glass was used on a revolutionary array of surfaces, from stairwells to tabletops. On the one hand, it was a new and exciting building material with innumerable uses. While on the other hand, everything became so visible there was no longer room for even a shadow to hide.  Modern architects emphasized the natural light and views of the outdoors, their desire for large windows also blurred the boundaries between public and private. Under the guise of a utopian society removed from wars and secrets, everything became exposed until privacy no longer existed.  The transparency of glass meant that nothing could be hidden from view.

Where nothing can be hidden, everything can be watched. Modernists pushed this transparency too far into the world of panopticism.  Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoy is a perfect example where the house is like a watchtower keeping an eye on the yard. There all visitors are seen coming and going, whether they want to be watched or not. Another example is the revolutionary open office, where managers can watch their employees like fish in a fishbowl with nowhere to hide.

That is the message of Jones’ article, but I do not agree with his overly antagonistic tone toward the Modern movement. Modern architecture is much more than surveillance and the oppressive thumb of some power. Open design and the free plan can mean visibility, light, airiness, and freedom. Transparency’s sightlines also equate to ease in wayfinding and less confusion. The open floor plan gives comfort for a mother to watch her children in the adjacent space. Safety in being able to see around a heavily trafficked corner. Openness can be good.

Open and expansive spaces are not the only way to design, however. We have all felt the coziness of a reading nook or sought walls for a private conversation. Sleep is usually more restful in a quiet, sound-dampened room with encased walls. Jones’s argument that sightlines in design equate to oppressive power also suggests that reduced sightlines, or the addition of opaque walls, is the key to freedom. This is too restrictive and polarized of an argument to be reasonable. Researchers have well documented that humans seek both refuge and prospect.

An example of positive sightlines is in the Fat Shack. With the full-height panes of glass facing the street, the cashier can see if someone is about to enter the store. Without a sound barrier between the point of sale and seating upstairs, the employee can hear excessive noise. Yes, that employee is scanning the ground floor seating and supervising the drink station with the goal of surveillance, but not all surveillance is bad; not all surveillance is panoptic. When the public visits the Fat Shack, it is expected that drinks are purchased and that the patrons are keeping their voices to a tolerable level out of respect for the other diners. The employee is not oppressing people’s right to eat while chatting and laughing with their friends.

To my earlier point about refuge and prospect, restaurants offer a variety of seating locations. If a visitor feels overly exposed and seen, that person can choose a table in the back and near a wall. There is an equal benefit to the sightlines and daylight provided by the double-height entrance glazing as there is to the privacy and reduced glare provided by fully opaque walls and recessed seating. Transparency does not equate to oppression.

The ground floor of Phat Shack has a fully glazed facade to the north. The cashiers have full view of of street-level activities while the upstairs provides privacy.