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1. Title
Disrupting the Absolute: Material Reflection and Phenomenological Memory in Judd and Terragni
2. Abstract
What enables architecture to be remembered—not just understood, but felt? How can a geometric system rooted in rational precision produce an atmospheric residue that lingers in memory? This paper explores those questions by examining two formally rigorous yet experientially destabilizing works: Donald Judd’s 100 Untitled Works in Mill Aluminum (1982–1986) in Marfa, Texas, and Giuseppe Terragni’s Casa del Fascio (1932–1936) in Como, Italy. Emerging from Minimalism and Italian Rationalism respectively, both projects deploy geometric systems as formal frameworks—only to subvert them through a strategic interplay of materiality, light, and reflection.
In Marfa, Judd’s milled aluminum boxes interact with desert light to create perceptual instability akin to heat mirages, dissolving clarity into vibration (Judd Foundation, 2020). In Como, Terragni’s glass blocks and polished marble introduce a greenish chromatic atmosphere that destabilizes the Rationalist grid and evokes spatial memory (Etlin, 1991; Storchi, 2007).
This paper adopts a methodology of forensic phenomenology—a hybrid of direct sensory observation, tectonic analysis, and material taxonomy—to investigate how affective atmospheres are constructed. Drawing from site visits, design discussions, and professional work at OMA with Rem Koolhaas (Dovey & Dickson, 2009), it constructs a taxonomy of surface tactics operating across Judd, Terragni, and related works, including Villa Bordeaux and Mies van der Rohe’s mirrored steel. Rather than interpreting affect as incidental, the paper argues that spatial memory is actively produced through the dialectic between rigid geometry and ephemeral phenomena—between what architecture orders and what reflection disrupts (Pérez-Gómez, 2006).
3. Introduction: From Order to Experience
Architecture is often framed as the art of form and function, but what lingers in memory is not always what is built—it is what is sensed (Pallasmaa, 2005). When geometry and material meet light, temperature, and time, something more than design occurs. This paper explores the question: how does architecture not just present itself but remain? What makes it felt long after the experience is over? (Eisenman 2003).
The focus is on two projects that exemplify this paradox: Donald Judd’s 100 Untitled Works in Mill Aluminum and Giuseppe Terragni’s Casa del Fascio (Judd Foundation, 2020; Etlin, 1991). Although each work is rooted in Minimalism and Rationalism respectively, both challenge the very systems of clarity they appear to support. Judd’s mill aluminum boxes blur into perceptual indeterminacy, evoking an environmental haze (Webb, 2008), while Terragni’s glass blocks translate ideological constructs through shifting chromatic atmospheres (Storchi, 2007).
The approach here is not to offer a symbolic reading of these works but rather to trace the material and perceptual operations that unfold into memory. I call this approach a forensic phenomenology: part observational analysis, part material taxonomy. By pairing firsthand site visits with professional practice at OMA, this investigation maps how architecture produces experiential meaning through material and spatial logic, rather than narrative or ornament (Dovey & Dickson, 2009), but through surface operations, assembly decisions, and the subtle instability of light and matter (Pérez-Gómez, 2006).
Eisenman’s analytic treatment of Terragni’s work provides one model for examining internal contradictions within formal systems (Eisenman, 2003). But rather than dissecting syntax alone, this study extends the analysis to atmospheric and phenomenological effects. What follows is a set of case-based reflections—not to declare what these buildings mean, but to observe how they act—on the senses, in memory, across time.
4. Literature Review (Related Work)
The relationship between material assembly and spatial perception has been central to architectural discourse, particularly in the context of phenomenological inquiry. Juhani Pallasmaa (2005) argued that architecture is understood not only through vision but through multisensory engagement—what he termed “the eyes of the skin.” In this view, atmosphere becomes a critical agent in the formation of memory. Pérez-Gómez (2006) expands on this by framing architecture as an ethical and poetic condition, asserting that its affective power lies not in symbolism but in its capacity to structure longing.
Henri Bergson’s (1910) notion of durée—lived time that is heterogeneous, fluid, and irreducible—adds depth to this perspective. Architecture, when understood through Bergsonian temporality, becomes a temporal medium. Light, color, and surface do not simply “appear” but unfold gradually as conditions of perception. Merleau-Ponty (1964) reinforces this through his theory of embodiment, arguing that visibility is never disembodied; perception is always rooted in the body’s embeddedness within space. These temporal and bodily registers are crucial for understanding how certain architectures, such as Judd’s and Terragni’s, function less as objects of contemplation and more as fields of experiential modulation.
Donald Judd’s spatial practice, often labeled Minimalist, resists easy classification when examined through this lens. His 100 Untitled Works in Mill Aluminum dissolve the distinction between object and environment by activating light and reflection as material conditions (Judd Foundation, 2020). Webb (2008) observes that Judd’s installations function as perceptual fields—changing with time, angle, and ambient light—rather than static compositions. Terragni’s work has been similarly reframed. Eisenman (2003) highlights how the Casa del Fascio, though grounded in Rationalist formal logic, contains internal contradictions and sensory instability. Storchi (2007) and Etlin (1991) demonstrate how Terragni used green-tinted glass and reflective materials to saturate space with chromatic atmosphere, filtering ideology through sensation.
These tensions—between form and feeling, between clarity and instability—find little elaboration in conventional taxonomies of architectural modernism. Dovey and Dickson (2009) propose that architecture’s critical agency often resides in what they term “programmatic innovation”—the capacity to produce affect through operational details rather than overt representation. That principle resonates strongly with the present study, which traces a lineage of sensory tactics across Judd, Terragni, and the Bordeaux Villa. In all three, perception is not merely registered—it is organized, delayed, and redistributed across surfaces.
This review highlights the need for a method that can account for architecture’s experiential complexity not just formally, but materially and sensorially. A forensic phenomenology—attuned to joints, finishes, thicknesses, and atmospheres—offers a way to engage the architectural detail as a site of lived memory and temporal unfolding.
5. Methodology: Forensic Phenomenology and Situated Practice
This study advances a methodology of forensic phenomenology—a hybrid of material taxonomy, perceptual observation, and site-based analysis. It resists the abstraction of symbolic interpretation and instead focuses on the physical and sensory operations that architecture performs through surface, light, and assembly. This method is grounded in the belief that spatial meaning is not projected, but constructed—through tension, exposure, and the calibrated instability of material behaviors (Pérez-Gómez, 2006).
The research design draws from three primary sources: personal site visits, professional architectural practice, and critical material analysis. As Director of Research and Development at OMA, I engaged directly in the design development and on-site resolution of key elements at Villa Bordeaux. I worked closely with Maarten Van Severen and Vincent Rijk, often bringing my team to the site to address material tolerances and visual effects. These field-based experiences form the empirical core of the paper, functioning not as anecdote but as embedded observation. This is ethnography by doing—spatial knowledge acquired through making, assembly, and adjustment.
Each site included in the study—Marfa, Bordeaux, Como, and institutional spaces such as MoMA—is approached as an inhabited field of optical and tactile performance. At the Chinati Foundation, Judd’s mill aluminum boxes are observed not for their formal consistency, but for their variable interaction with sun, floor, shadow, and temperature (Judd Foundation, 2020; Webb, 2008). In Como, Terragni’s Casa del Fascio is studied in relation to its chromatic modulation, tectonic precision, and ideological framing (Etlin, 1991; Storchi, 2007; Eisenman, 2003). In Bordeaux, the Villa serves as both case study and site of practice. Its mirrored columns, sandblasted glazing, and acrylic sink become test cases in how perception is structured through material calibration.
The forensic component of the methodology involves close readings of joints, edge conditions, surface behavior, and material omissions. Where traditional tectonic analysis might isolate detail as an index of structure, this method treats detail as a mediator of atmosphere—a site where space becomes felt. This aligns with Merleau-Ponty’s (1964) claim that perception is always embodied, and with Bergson’s (1910) understanding of time as duration: architecture unfolds not only in form, but in delay, resistance, and chromatic hesitation.
The study does not rely on formal interviews or surveys, as it is not an inquiry into user satisfaction or social behavior. Rather, it examines how built form generates memory—how certain spaces produce afterimages, tactile recollections, and affective residues. These traces are gathered not through data collection in the conventional sense, but through immersive, repeat observation and manual engagement with design processes. This is a methodology shaped by practice, guided by theory, and validated by sensory recall.
5.1 Judd Sheds in Marfa: Atmosphere and Exposure
At the Chinati Foundation in Marfa, Donald Judd’s installation of 100 mill aluminum boxes occupies two vast artillery sheds, which Judd personally converted. The decision to place these highly refined objects within such rough industrial buildings was not incidental. In fact, the contrast is fundamental to their perception. The architecture's lack of neutrality plays a crucial role in shaping the conditions of the perceptual event (Meyer, 2004). These sheds were not polished into white cubes; instead, Judd deliberately retained their structural legibility and environmental rawness. The concrete floors, visible steel structure, and massive vertical windows that flood the sheds with West Texas light serve as counterpoints to the reflective but machined perfection of the aluminum works (Fausch, 1996).
The building’ refusal to cover its material condition becomes a curatorial act, one that frames the boxes not as isolated art objects but as active participants in an environmental system—light, heat, air, and shadow. In this context, the atmosphere becomes an active collaborator in the perception of geometry. The mill aluminum boxes, although formally similar, behave differently throughout the day. The milled surfaces do not reflect sharply like glass or chrome. Instead, they shimmer subtly, taking on the desert sun in unpredictable ways. At certain times of day, the surfaces vibrate visually, producing effects akin to heat mirages on a hot road. Geometry dissolves in light (Foster, 1996).
The juxtaposition of untreated architecture and industrial objects here produces a layered atmosphere—a collaboration between the controlled and the contingent. The building becomes more than a container; it is an amplifier of instability, rendering Judd’s objects less pure and more alive. The outcome isn’t abstract purity—it’s a precision rooted in perceptual destabilization, a vibrancy cultivated not in opposition to material, but through it (Flückiger, 2021).
5.2 Casa del Fascio: Rational Composition and Subtle Instability
Terragni’s Casa del Fascio offers another strategy. The Rationalist grid governs everything, yet within it lie moments of extra-rational expression. The atrium is layered with glass, marble, and bronze, each surface contributing not only to the building’s legibility but to its destabilization. The effect is simultaneously architectural and atmospheric, structured and dreamlike (Malevich, 2003).
Most striking during my visit was the green hue created by the glass block—used in walls and ceilings. This wasn’t a surface coating but a volumetric light effect. The green tint washed over everything, not merely altering color but transforming the sense of time, presence, and even purpose. It suggested memory. History. A dreamlike filtration of rationalism. These chromatic inflections resist legibility, inserting a mood or afterimage into what would otherwise be read as a strict syntax of planar elements (Rifkind, 2006).
Even the building’s tectonic plating—where the atrium balconies are layered with horizontal elements—feels precise, but not entirely resolved. And Terragni’s decision to expose an unfinished column—visible from a precisely framed window—demonstrates an architectural wit and self-awareness. These interruptions animate the grid. They inject personality into what could be mistaken for didacticism.
Furniture, too, plays a role. One chair in the public lobby forces you forward, not backward—an architectural instruction to be alert, brief, and present. Another, in a rear office, curves softly, offering contrast. The same holds for Judd’s infamous chairs—severe, solid, unyielding. Neither architect wanted you to rest. In those chairs, I became a reflection stretched across time, held briefly in passing (Judd, 1993).
5.3 Villa Bordeaux: Rawness, Assembly, and Intentional Gaps
Completed in 1999, Villa Bordeaux by OMA/Rem Koolhaas in the south of France challenges conventional domestic architecture through kinetic design, with the elevated platform that moves alongside a three-story resin-encased glass bookcase. My experience at Villa Bordeaux with OMA reveals how similar material tactics were deployed, often discussed with Rem Koolhaas and Maarten Van Severen at a highly detailed level. There, a column housing a spiral stair was clad in mirror-finished stainless steel, intended to dematerialize the shaft so the concrete volume above could appear to float. Like Judd’s mill aluminum boxes, this reflection was designed to destabilize perception—but here it was done through extreme finish (Koolhaas & Obrist, 2011).
Nevertheless, rawness appeared elsewhere. In a small courtyard between the guest and servant quarters, we debated whether to conceal a conventional junction—where a glazing mullion, glass unit, and concrete beam converged—with a metal cover plate. Ultimately, in conversation with Rem, we chose to leave it exposed. The joint’s visibility marked a deliberate embrace of indeterminacy, broadening the spectrum of experience. Its unresolved appearance became an invitation—enabling a deliberate rawness, a construction-as-thought that cultivates tension (Miglietta, 2024).
Van Severen’s furniture also exemplified this thinking. While many pieces were fabricated by hand, including those involving aluminum, they were often left visibly worked—bolt ends slightly protruding, then sanded flush, leaving a faint trace of assembly. As Maarten put it, “I don’t hide the joints. I don’t polish away the process. The object should show its own thought.” (Van Severen, 2005). This decision was no different than Judd’s refusal to hide the joints in his wooden chairs. One might consider the action a form of architectural annotation, where fabrication reveals its own inscription.
5.4 Villa Bordeaux: Translucency, Delay, and the Conditions for Perception
Other moments in Villa Bordeaux that extend the inquiry into material and memory focus on translucency—on light, not simply as illumination, but as a medium conditioned by matter. On the ground floor facing the courtyard, the inner face of the insulated glass units was sandblasted along the cavity side, embedding a calibrated haze into the glazing. Such an outcome was not a surface effect, but a decision embedded in depth. Light did not pass directly; it slowed. The treatment absorbed and redistributed ambient light, producing a perceptual register that shifted with time of day and viewing angle. Late in the afternoon, the glass did not frame the outside as much as it modulated its presence, making the wall less transparent and more temporally responsive. The effect recalled the green-tinted glass block at Casa del Fascio, where daylight filtering alters interior perception not through contrast, but through chromatic saturation. In both cases, space is shaped by delay. Light becomes a medium of temporal registration (The Economist. 2001).
A vertical bookcase, rising through three floors of the house, brought similar perceptual qualities into the core of the building. Constructed from float glass laminated in resin, the bookcase served as both a spatial partition and an organizational system. As Director of Research and Development at OMA, I remained closely involved during the design and fabrication process, especially for high-precision components such as this one. I worked with Vincent Rijk to manage production and made several trips with my team to the site to address tolerance issues and verify performance under environmental conditions. Once installed, the bookcase’s structural presence receded, allowing books to appear suspended within a controlled field of refracted light. As light conditions changed, the glass developed a faint bluish-green tint—an ambient effect like the filtered light in Terragni’s atrium. The visual field was not immediate; it required adjustment. As with Man Ray’s rayographs, visibility depended on interruption, on the delay between form and recognition (Ades, 1989). The bookcase did not simply store objects; it reframed them within a system of slowed perception.
5.5 Villa Bordeaux: Dematerialization of the Everyday—Sink, Glass, Color
In the master bath, a sink milled from solid clear acrylic is cantilevered over a dark wood floor. I worked in direct collaboration with Maarten Van Severen and Vincent Rijk throughout its development and participated in its final installation. I returned to the site with my crew to make adjustments by hand due to the material's sensitivity and the design's high visual demands. The acrylic was machined and polished to modulate the way light entered, moved through, and exited its surfaces. When in use, the sink would often dematerialize—water and material overlapping in transparency, flattening spatial depth.
The experience recalled the crystal table designed by Terragni for the Casa del Fascio—another utilitarian element rendered nearly immaterial by optical clarity and formal restraint. In both cases, material presence was not eliminated but calibrated toward a reduced state. These elements did not demand attention through form; they shaped attention through perceptual deferral. What remained was not objecthood, but the conditions for sensing space differently (Blanchot, 1993).
5.6 MoMA and Mies: Cladding, Columns, and Conversations
A recent visit to MoMA revealed another productive moment of comparison. On display were column cladding elements from Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion and the Tugendhat House. The former finishes with sharp 90-degree breaks; the latter, with soft semicircular curves. These are not just tectonic decisions—they are ideological statements. The sharp corner proclaims resolve; the curve allows for gentleness within formality (Luscombe, 2016 ).
These claddings echoed the mirrored column in Bordeaux and even Judd’s refusal to clad at all. In each, the column becomes a site of attention, a detail of ideology. Where Judd celebrates the rawness of industrial fabrication, Mies polishes tectonics into the sublime. Yet all share a belief that material precision—whether rough or refined—has an epistemological role in architecture (Frascari, 1984).
6. Results
The following section presents the primary findings of this study through two interrelated lenses: a taxonomic reading of architectural detail, and an interpretive synthesis of perceptual phenomena across case studies. Rather than empirical measurements, these results emerge from site-based sensory encounters, forensic observation, and material analysis. Each finding is grounded in built work and read through the methodological lens of forensic phenomenology, which frames detail not as resolution, but as a site of affective delay. These results do not aim for generalization, but for precision in attending to the ways surface, reflection, and assembly induce memory. What follows are two interpretive outputs: a taxonomy of phenomenological detail, and a reflection on atmosphere, vibration, and temporality as spatial effects.
6.1 Taxonomic Reading: Forensic Phenomenology of Detail
To unpack the mechanics behind these experiences, this study advances a complementary method: what may be termed forensic phenomenology, or a taxonomic reading of architectural strategies. Rooted in the principles of embodied perception and temporal unfolding as theorized by Bergson (1910) and Merleau-Ponty (1964), forensic phenomenology positions architectural meaning as emerging through lived, sensory experience. Within this framework, techniques such as architectural autopsy—a close reading of tectonic, material, and spatial syntax—are employed to reveal how affect is embedded in this methodology. It resists reducing affect to discrete elements; instead, it seeks to trace how materials and assembly techniques are calibrated to induce spatial sensation (Pallasmaa, 2009).
If we consider detail as a site where ideology and affect converge, then it becomes necessary to observe not only what is finished but also what is left unfinished. In Marfa, Judd leaves aluminum raw and milled—not polished or coated—inviting light distortion (Judd Foundation, 2020). In Bordeaux, mirror-polished stainless steel encases a structural concrete cylinder with a spiral stair held within. The mirrored stainless steel's purpose is not to reflect surroundings but to erase its mass, dematerializing support. At Casa del Fascio, green-tinted glass blocks refract daylight, bathing the interiors in an atmospheric hue that resembles a lost memory rather than mere illumination. These instances are not just examples of formalism; they serve as affective instruments (Holl, Pallasmaa, & Pérez-Gómez, 2006).
The following table takes these instances and organizes them into a comparative taxonomy, highlighting how specific architectural details operate phenomenologically—not merely as technical solutions, but as sensory instruments.
Table 1. Forensic Phenomenology Taxonomy
This forensic reading reveals that surface, reflection, and exposure are not decorative flourishes, but instrumental decisions—each one operating across the grain of tectonic expectations. They do not communicate through narrative; they communicate through sensation. The body is placed into calibration with light and matter, and it is this relationship—between human perception and material condition—that opens perception to memory’s duration.
Surface Strategy Architectural Detail Phenomenological Effect
Raw exposure Judd’s untreated mill aluminum boxes Material co-authors light; geometry destabilized
Precision reflection OMA’s polished stainless-steel column cover in Bordeaux Support disappears; volume floats
Cladding omission OMA’s joint in Bordeaux courtyard left exposed Reveals assembly; emphasizes rawness
Tectonic layering Terragni’s atrium in Casa del Fascio Geometry filtered through material ambiguity
Furniture-as-instruction Terragni’s forward-tilting chairs in Casa del Fascio Time moderated; comfort denied
6.2 Reflected Worlds and the Space of Memory
If architecture is a medium of memory, then reflection plays a pivotal role (Vidler, 2001). Reflected surfaces fracture perception; they multiply and distort. In Judd’s work, this creates an instability like memory itself—selective, affective, and unpredictable. In Terragni, reflection via light filtered through material becomes a register of duration. The slow saturation of green light transforms space into experience.
James Turrell’s luminous environments resonate here, where vibration emerges as both a visual effect and an embodied sensory event (Turrell, 2022). Light filters, absorbs, and refracts in time to produce vibration (Turrell, 2001). Cézanne’s insistence on “seeing with touch” echoes in the haptic detail and chromatic delay (Merleau-Ponty, 1964) seen in both Terragni’s glass block and Judd’s mill aluminum boxes (Bois, 2013). Johannes Itten, teaching at the Bauhaus, extended Cézanne’s haptic bridging across the senses by asking students to translate one sense into another. In one exercise, they smelled citrus and visualized sharpness—practices that trained the mind to see through the body (Itten, 1975).
What unites these works is a commitment to atmosphere not as an afterthought, but as a primary mode of spatial experience. These architects do not decorate space; they orchestrate perceptual events. They inscribe time into material. They make architecture that is not consumed at first glance but revealed over time and across seasons, with memory acting as a co-conspirator (Zumthor, 2006).
7. Discussion: Between Perception and Construction
This study began with a set of deceptively simple questions: How is architecture remembered—not just cognitively, but sensorially? How do works grounded in rational formalism produce emotional and atmospheric aftereffects? Through a comparative and material reading of Donald Judd’s 100 Untitled Works in Mill Aluminum, Giuseppe Terragni’s Casa del Fascio, and elements of OMA’s Villa Bordeaux, this paper has argued that architectural memory is not the product of symbolic meaning or functional clarity, but of calibrated atmospheric delay—of how geometry, material, and reflection induce perceptual uncertainty.
These findings reframe the architectural detail not as resolution but as indeterminacy—a site where construction, light, and affect intermingle. They extend the phenomenological tradition advanced by theorists such as Merleau-Ponty (1964) and Bergson (1910), while adding forensic specificity: a taxonomy of surface operations that destabilize space in order to activate memory. If Merleau-Ponty saw perception as an embodied crossing of space and time, and Bergson defined duration as the overlap of past and present, this paper situates architectural memory precisely at the juncture of sensory delay and tectonic expression (Bergson, 1910; Merleau-Ponty, 1964).
The case studies support and complicate these theories. Judd’s reflective aluminum boxes do not show space—they shimmer, resist legibility, and demand temporal adjustment. Terragni’s green-tinted glass blocks do not illuminate—they absorb, color, and shift the register of experience. In Bordeaux, the translucency of glass, the dematerialization of the acrylic sink, and the ambient blue-green of the resin-encased bookcase reframe ordinary domestic moments through conditions of perceptual latency. In all cases, what lingers is not what is seen, but how seeing occurs—filtered, delayed, contingent.
These insights also challenge assumptions in more conventional architectural discourse, where detail often equates to precision or craft. Instead, this work suggests that detail can be a mode of temporal operation—a tool for memory, rather than an aesthetic flourish. This nuance aligns with Pérez-Gómez’s (2006) conception of architecture as a form of “ethical imagination” and with Vidler’s (2001) readings of spatial anxiety and distortion. But unlike these, this study embeds such claims in direct constructional analysis and professional engagement—what was felt is inseparable from what was built.
Practically, these findings carry implications for the way architects conceive of material decisions, especially in a digital era dominated by speed, efficiency, and surface scripting. Rather than treat atmosphere as secondary to program or envelope, designers might foreground perceptual delays—strategically integrating chromatic filtering, reflection, and roughness as instruments of thought. This has relevance for not only cultural or domestic architecture but also for educational and institutional environments that seek to foster memory and presence.
There are, however, limitations. This study is deliberately narrow in scope, privileging deep readings of a few sites rather than broad generalizations. Its method—what was termed “forensic phenomenology”—relies on subjective perception, anecdotal knowledge, and extended observation. While this yields rich description, it does not lend itself to empirical quantification. Future work might expand this taxonomy through more systematic field studies, user-based perceptual feedback, or sensory mapping technologies.
Still, the potential is clear. If architecture is to reassert its experiential power in a landscape of metrics and algorithms, then attending to memory—not as metaphor but as operational logic—may prove essential. This paper offers one such model: an account of space that is not simply made, but sensed, and whose meaning unfolds in time.
8. Conclusion: Assemblies of Memory
Together, these works remind us that memory is not tethered to a single sense. A touch may recall a sound; a temperature may evoke a scent; a smell may reawaken the vibration of light. Architecture, then, is not merely visual or tactile—it is a field of cross-sensory inscription, where affect lingers and memory emerges. Varela, Thompson, and Rosch (1991) argue that memory is not something stored but rather an enactment through lived experience—they suggest that memory unfolds not as static content but as a temporal, lived process. Merleau-Ponty (1964) similarly reminds us that the past is not behind us, but rather "folded into how we touch and sense the world." Massumi (2002) describes memory as "emergent affect," arising from embodied intensity during encounters with stimuli. Böhme (2017) extends this further: atmosphere itself becomes a vessel for memory—felt rather than remembered, spatial rather than stored. In this synesthetic field, architecture unsettles the boundaries of perception, ultimately oscillating between no-sense and sense.
The forensic phenomenology developed here offers not a method of interpretation, but a method of attending—to the delays, gaps, and residual sensations that architecture leaves behind. This interplay of sense and recall is vividly embodied in Judd’s shimmering aluminum, Terragni’s green-washed atrium, and the refracted thresholds of Bordeaux—where atmosphere becomes the means by which architecture outlasts its own form.
9) Acknowledgements
This paper benefited from the generosity and insight of many individuals and dialogues across time and place. I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Professor Frank Weiner of Virginia Tech, whose conversations on duration, the phenomenology of Bergson and Merleau-Ponty, and the atmospheres explored by Gernot Böhme significantly informed the theoretical grounding of this work.
Special thanks to Urs Peter Flückiger (“Upe”) for both his publication Donald Judd: Architecture in Marfa, Texas (Birkhäuser, 2021) and our conversations on Judd’s architectural sensibility. His reflections on Judd’s arsenal of 100 milled aluminum boxes and the concept of Gesamtkunstwerk—or total artwork—provided invaluable clarity on the artist’s commitment to total design integration.
I am also grateful to Rem Koolhaas, whose candid exchanges—both at the Bordeaux Villa and over breakfast at the Saint James Hotel—offered rare insights into art, architecture, spatial performance, material tactics, and programmatic innovation. .
Equally formative were conversations with Maarten Van Severen, particularly those at the Bordeaux Villa and at his atelier in Ghent, Belgium. His material precision and attention to the sensual register of architecture have left a lasting impression on this study.
I would also like to acknowledge Philip Johnson, whose conversations during the drive from the Bordeaux airport to the Villa, and later at the house itself, offered crucial insights into the spatial effects of reflection and architectural disorientation. His reflections on the mirrored ambiguities within the Villa Bordeaux, and his comparative thoughts on Mies van der Rohe’s material rigor and Rem Koolhaas’s spatial provocations, deepened the paper’s exploration of perceptual instability and architectural lineage.
Finally, portions of the editing, organization, and grammatical refinement of this manuscript were supported by AI-based writing tools, including OpenAI’s ChatGPT for ideation and structural clarity, and Grammarly for grammar, style, and consistency checks. Their use was limited to editorial assistance in alignment with academic integrity standards.
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Webb, S. A. (2008). Breaking the box: Rothko and Judd at Chinati (Master’s thesis). University of Victoria.
Zumthor, P. (2006). Atmospheres: Architectural environments – Surrounding objects. Birkhäuser.
12. Figure for Section 6.1 Taxonomic Reading: Forensic Phenomenology of Detail
Surface Strategy Architectural Detail Phenomenological Effect
Raw exposure Judd’s untreated mill aluminum boxes Material co-authors light; geometry destabilized
Precision reflection OMA’s polished stainless-steel column cover in Bordeaux Support disappears; volume floats
Cladding omission OMA’s joint in Bordeaux courtyard left exposed Reveals assembly; emphasizes rawness
Tectonic layering Terragni’s atrium in Casa del Fascio Geometry filtered through material ambiguity
Furniture-as-instruction Terragni’s forward-tilting chairs in Casa del Fascio Time moderated; comfort denied
Disrupting the Absolute: Material Reflection and Phenomenological Memory in Judd and Terragni
2. Abstract
What enables architecture to be remembered—not just understood, but felt? How can a geometric system rooted in rational precision produce an atmospheric residue that lingers in memory? This paper explores those questions by examining two formally rigorous yet experientially destabilizing works: Donald Judd’s 100 Untitled Works in Mill Aluminum (1982–1986) in Marfa, Texas, and Giuseppe Terragni’s Casa del Fascio (1932–1936) in Como, Italy. Emerging from Minimalism and Italian Rationalism respectively, both projects deploy geometric systems as formal frameworks—only to subvert them through a strategic interplay of materiality, light, and reflection.
In Marfa, Judd’s milled aluminum boxes interact with desert light to create perceptual instability akin to heat mirages, dissolving clarity into vibration (Judd Foundation, 2020). In Como, Terragni’s glass blocks and polished marble introduce a greenish chromatic atmosphere that destabilizes the Rationalist grid and evokes spatial memory (Etlin, 1991; Storchi, 2007).
This paper adopts a methodology of forensic phenomenology—a hybrid of direct sensory observation, tectonic analysis, and material taxonomy—to investigate how affective atmospheres are constructed. Drawing from site visits, design discussions, and professional work at OMA with Rem Koolhaas (Dovey & Dickson, 2009), it constructs a taxonomy of surface tactics operating across Judd, Terragni, and related works, including Villa Bordeaux and Mies van der Rohe’s mirrored steel. Rather than interpreting affect as incidental, the paper argues that spatial memory is actively produced through the dialectic between rigid geometry and ephemeral phenomena—between what architecture orders and what reflection disrupts (Pérez-Gómez, 2006).
3. Introduction: From Order to Experience
Architecture is often framed as the art of form and function, but what lingers in memory is not always what is built—it is what is sensed (Pallasmaa, 2005). When geometry and material meet light, temperature, and time, something more than design occurs. This paper explores the question: how does architecture not just present itself but remain? What makes it felt long after the experience is over? (Eisenman 2003).
The focus is on two projects that exemplify this paradox: Donald Judd’s 100 Untitled Works in Mill Aluminum and Giuseppe Terragni’s Casa del Fascio (Judd Foundation, 2020; Etlin, 1991). Although each work is rooted in Minimalism and Rationalism respectively, both challenge the very systems of clarity they appear to support. Judd’s mill aluminum boxes blur into perceptual indeterminacy, evoking an environmental haze (Webb, 2008), while Terragni’s glass blocks translate ideological constructs through shifting chromatic atmospheres (Storchi, 2007).
The approach here is not to offer a symbolic reading of these works but rather to trace the material and perceptual operations that unfold into memory. I call this approach a forensic phenomenology: part observational analysis, part material taxonomy. By pairing firsthand site visits with professional practice at OMA, this investigation maps how architecture produces experiential meaning through material and spatial logic, rather than narrative or ornament (Dovey & Dickson, 2009), but through surface operations, assembly decisions, and the subtle instability of light and matter (Pérez-Gómez, 2006).
Eisenman’s analytic treatment of Terragni’s work provides one model for examining internal contradictions within formal systems (Eisenman, 2003). But rather than dissecting syntax alone, this study extends the analysis to atmospheric and phenomenological effects. What follows is a set of case-based reflections—not to declare what these buildings mean, but to observe how they act—on the senses, in memory, across time.
4. Literature Review (Related Work)
The relationship between material assembly and spatial perception has been central to architectural discourse, particularly in the context of phenomenological inquiry. Juhani Pallasmaa (2005) argued that architecture is understood not only through vision but through multisensory engagement—what he termed “the eyes of the skin.” In this view, atmosphere becomes a critical agent in the formation of memory. Pérez-Gómez (2006) expands on this by framing architecture as an ethical and poetic condition, asserting that its affective power lies not in symbolism but in its capacity to structure longing.
Henri Bergson’s (1910) notion of durée—lived time that is heterogeneous, fluid, and irreducible—adds depth to this perspective. Architecture, when understood through Bergsonian temporality, becomes a temporal medium. Light, color, and surface do not simply “appear” but unfold gradually as conditions of perception. Merleau-Ponty (1964) reinforces this through his theory of embodiment, arguing that visibility is never disembodied; perception is always rooted in the body’s embeddedness within space. These temporal and bodily registers are crucial for understanding how certain architectures, such as Judd’s and Terragni’s, function less as objects of contemplation and more as fields of experiential modulation.
Donald Judd’s spatial practice, often labeled Minimalist, resists easy classification when examined through this lens. His 100 Untitled Works in Mill Aluminum dissolve the distinction between object and environment by activating light and reflection as material conditions (Judd Foundation, 2020). Webb (2008) observes that Judd’s installations function as perceptual fields—changing with time, angle, and ambient light—rather than static compositions. Terragni’s work has been similarly reframed. Eisenman (2003) highlights how the Casa del Fascio, though grounded in Rationalist formal logic, contains internal contradictions and sensory instability. Storchi (2007) and Etlin (1991) demonstrate how Terragni used green-tinted glass and reflective materials to saturate space with chromatic atmosphere, filtering ideology through sensation.
These tensions—between form and feeling, between clarity and instability—find little elaboration in conventional taxonomies of architectural modernism. Dovey and Dickson (2009) propose that architecture’s critical agency often resides in what they term “programmatic innovation”—the capacity to produce affect through operational details rather than overt representation. That principle resonates strongly with the present study, which traces a lineage of sensory tactics across Judd, Terragni, and the Bordeaux Villa. In all three, perception is not merely registered—it is organized, delayed, and redistributed across surfaces.
This review highlights the need for a method that can account for architecture’s experiential complexity not just formally, but materially and sensorially. A forensic phenomenology—attuned to joints, finishes, thicknesses, and atmospheres—offers a way to engage the architectural detail as a site of lived memory and temporal unfolding.
5. Methodology: Forensic Phenomenology and Situated Practice
This study advances a methodology of forensic phenomenology—a hybrid of material taxonomy, perceptual observation, and site-based analysis. It resists the abstraction of symbolic interpretation and instead focuses on the physical and sensory operations that architecture performs through surface, light, and assembly. This method is grounded in the belief that spatial meaning is not projected, but constructed—through tension, exposure, and the calibrated instability of material behaviors (Pérez-Gómez, 2006).
The research design draws from three primary sources: personal site visits, professional architectural practice, and critical material analysis. As Director of Research and Development at OMA, I engaged directly in the design development and on-site resolution of key elements at Villa Bordeaux. I worked closely with Maarten Van Severen and Vincent Rijk, often bringing my team to the site to address material tolerances and visual effects. These field-based experiences form the empirical core of the paper, functioning not as anecdote but as embedded observation. This is ethnography by doing—spatial knowledge acquired through making, assembly, and adjustment.
Each site included in the study—Marfa, Bordeaux, Como, and institutional spaces such as MoMA—is approached as an inhabited field of optical and tactile performance. At the Chinati Foundation, Judd’s mill aluminum boxes are observed not for their formal consistency, but for their variable interaction with sun, floor, shadow, and temperature (Judd Foundation, 2020; Webb, 2008). In Como, Terragni’s Casa del Fascio is studied in relation to its chromatic modulation, tectonic precision, and ideological framing (Etlin, 1991; Storchi, 2007; Eisenman, 2003). In Bordeaux, the Villa serves as both case study and site of practice. Its mirrored columns, sandblasted glazing, and acrylic sink become test cases in how perception is structured through material calibration.
The forensic component of the methodology involves close readings of joints, edge conditions, surface behavior, and material omissions. Where traditional tectonic analysis might isolate detail as an index of structure, this method treats detail as a mediator of atmosphere—a site where space becomes felt. This aligns with Merleau-Ponty’s (1964) claim that perception is always embodied, and with Bergson’s (1910) understanding of time as duration: architecture unfolds not only in form, but in delay, resistance, and chromatic hesitation.
The study does not rely on formal interviews or surveys, as it is not an inquiry into user satisfaction or social behavior. Rather, it examines how built form generates memory—how certain spaces produce afterimages, tactile recollections, and affective residues. These traces are gathered not through data collection in the conventional sense, but through immersive, repeat observation and manual engagement with design processes. This is a methodology shaped by practice, guided by theory, and validated by sensory recall.
5.1 Judd Sheds in Marfa: Atmosphere and Exposure
At the Chinati Foundation in Marfa, Donald Judd’s installation of 100 mill aluminum boxes occupies two vast artillery sheds, which Judd personally converted. The decision to place these highly refined objects within such rough industrial buildings was not incidental. In fact, the contrast is fundamental to their perception. The architecture's lack of neutrality plays a crucial role in shaping the conditions of the perceptual event (Meyer, 2004). These sheds were not polished into white cubes; instead, Judd deliberately retained their structural legibility and environmental rawness. The concrete floors, visible steel structure, and massive vertical windows that flood the sheds with West Texas light serve as counterpoints to the reflective but machined perfection of the aluminum works (Fausch, 1996).
The building’ refusal to cover its material condition becomes a curatorial act, one that frames the boxes not as isolated art objects but as active participants in an environmental system—light, heat, air, and shadow. In this context, the atmosphere becomes an active collaborator in the perception of geometry. The mill aluminum boxes, although formally similar, behave differently throughout the day. The milled surfaces do not reflect sharply like glass or chrome. Instead, they shimmer subtly, taking on the desert sun in unpredictable ways. At certain times of day, the surfaces vibrate visually, producing effects akin to heat mirages on a hot road. Geometry dissolves in light (Foster, 1996).
The juxtaposition of untreated architecture and industrial objects here produces a layered atmosphere—a collaboration between the controlled and the contingent. The building becomes more than a container; it is an amplifier of instability, rendering Judd’s objects less pure and more alive. The outcome isn’t abstract purity—it’s a precision rooted in perceptual destabilization, a vibrancy cultivated not in opposition to material, but through it (Flückiger, 2021).
5.2 Casa del Fascio: Rational Composition and Subtle Instability
Terragni’s Casa del Fascio offers another strategy. The Rationalist grid governs everything, yet within it lie moments of extra-rational expression. The atrium is layered with glass, marble, and bronze, each surface contributing not only to the building’s legibility but to its destabilization. The effect is simultaneously architectural and atmospheric, structured and dreamlike (Malevich, 2003).
Most striking during my visit was the green hue created by the glass block—used in walls and ceilings. This wasn’t a surface coating but a volumetric light effect. The green tint washed over everything, not merely altering color but transforming the sense of time, presence, and even purpose. It suggested memory. History. A dreamlike filtration of rationalism. These chromatic inflections resist legibility, inserting a mood or afterimage into what would otherwise be read as a strict syntax of planar elements (Rifkind, 2006).
Even the building’s tectonic plating—where the atrium balconies are layered with horizontal elements—feels precise, but not entirely resolved. And Terragni’s decision to expose an unfinished column—visible from a precisely framed window—demonstrates an architectural wit and self-awareness. These interruptions animate the grid. They inject personality into what could be mistaken for didacticism.
Furniture, too, plays a role. One chair in the public lobby forces you forward, not backward—an architectural instruction to be alert, brief, and present. Another, in a rear office, curves softly, offering contrast. The same holds for Judd’s infamous chairs—severe, solid, unyielding. Neither architect wanted you to rest. In those chairs, I became a reflection stretched across time, held briefly in passing (Judd, 1993).
5.3 Villa Bordeaux: Rawness, Assembly, and Intentional Gaps
Completed in 1999, Villa Bordeaux by OMA/Rem Koolhaas in the south of France challenges conventional domestic architecture through kinetic design, with the elevated platform that moves alongside a three-story resin-encased glass bookcase. My experience at Villa Bordeaux with OMA reveals how similar material tactics were deployed, often discussed with Rem Koolhaas and Maarten Van Severen at a highly detailed level. There, a column housing a spiral stair was clad in mirror-finished stainless steel, intended to dematerialize the shaft so the concrete volume above could appear to float. Like Judd’s mill aluminum boxes, this reflection was designed to destabilize perception—but here it was done through extreme finish (Koolhaas & Obrist, 2011).
Nevertheless, rawness appeared elsewhere. In a small courtyard between the guest and servant quarters, we debated whether to conceal a conventional junction—where a glazing mullion, glass unit, and concrete beam converged—with a metal cover plate. Ultimately, in conversation with Rem, we chose to leave it exposed. The joint’s visibility marked a deliberate embrace of indeterminacy, broadening the spectrum of experience. Its unresolved appearance became an invitation—enabling a deliberate rawness, a construction-as-thought that cultivates tension (Miglietta, 2024).
Van Severen’s furniture also exemplified this thinking. While many pieces were fabricated by hand, including those involving aluminum, they were often left visibly worked—bolt ends slightly protruding, then sanded flush, leaving a faint trace of assembly. As Maarten put it, “I don’t hide the joints. I don’t polish away the process. The object should show its own thought.” (Van Severen, 2005). This decision was no different than Judd’s refusal to hide the joints in his wooden chairs. One might consider the action a form of architectural annotation, where fabrication reveals its own inscription.
5.4 Villa Bordeaux: Translucency, Delay, and the Conditions for Perception
Other moments in Villa Bordeaux that extend the inquiry into material and memory focus on translucency—on light, not simply as illumination, but as a medium conditioned by matter. On the ground floor facing the courtyard, the inner face of the insulated glass units was sandblasted along the cavity side, embedding a calibrated haze into the glazing. Such an outcome was not a surface effect, but a decision embedded in depth. Light did not pass directly; it slowed. The treatment absorbed and redistributed ambient light, producing a perceptual register that shifted with time of day and viewing angle. Late in the afternoon, the glass did not frame the outside as much as it modulated its presence, making the wall less transparent and more temporally responsive. The effect recalled the green-tinted glass block at Casa del Fascio, where daylight filtering alters interior perception not through contrast, but through chromatic saturation. In both cases, space is shaped by delay. Light becomes a medium of temporal registration (The Economist. 2001).
A vertical bookcase, rising through three floors of the house, brought similar perceptual qualities into the core of the building. Constructed from float glass laminated in resin, the bookcase served as both a spatial partition and an organizational system. As Director of Research and Development at OMA, I remained closely involved during the design and fabrication process, especially for high-precision components such as this one. I worked with Vincent Rijk to manage production and made several trips with my team to the site to address tolerance issues and verify performance under environmental conditions. Once installed, the bookcase’s structural presence receded, allowing books to appear suspended within a controlled field of refracted light. As light conditions changed, the glass developed a faint bluish-green tint—an ambient effect like the filtered light in Terragni’s atrium. The visual field was not immediate; it required adjustment. As with Man Ray’s rayographs, visibility depended on interruption, on the delay between form and recognition (Ades, 1989). The bookcase did not simply store objects; it reframed them within a system of slowed perception.
5.5 Villa Bordeaux: Dematerialization of the Everyday—Sink, Glass, Color
In the master bath, a sink milled from solid clear acrylic is cantilevered over a dark wood floor. I worked in direct collaboration with Maarten Van Severen and Vincent Rijk throughout its development and participated in its final installation. I returned to the site with my crew to make adjustments by hand due to the material's sensitivity and the design's high visual demands. The acrylic was machined and polished to modulate the way light entered, moved through, and exited its surfaces. When in use, the sink would often dematerialize—water and material overlapping in transparency, flattening spatial depth.
The experience recalled the crystal table designed by Terragni for the Casa del Fascio—another utilitarian element rendered nearly immaterial by optical clarity and formal restraint. In both cases, material presence was not eliminated but calibrated toward a reduced state. These elements did not demand attention through form; they shaped attention through perceptual deferral. What remained was not objecthood, but the conditions for sensing space differently (Blanchot, 1993).
5.6 MoMA and Mies: Cladding, Columns, and Conversations
A recent visit to MoMA revealed another productive moment of comparison. On display were column cladding elements from Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion and the Tugendhat House. The former finishes with sharp 90-degree breaks; the latter, with soft semicircular curves. These are not just tectonic decisions—they are ideological statements. The sharp corner proclaims resolve; the curve allows for gentleness within formality (Luscombe, 2016 ).
These claddings echoed the mirrored column in Bordeaux and even Judd’s refusal to clad at all. In each, the column becomes a site of attention, a detail of ideology. Where Judd celebrates the rawness of industrial fabrication, Mies polishes tectonics into the sublime. Yet all share a belief that material precision—whether rough or refined—has an epistemological role in architecture (Frascari, 1984).
6. Results
The following section presents the primary findings of this study through two interrelated lenses: a taxonomic reading of architectural detail, and an interpretive synthesis of perceptual phenomena across case studies. Rather than empirical measurements, these results emerge from site-based sensory encounters, forensic observation, and material analysis. Each finding is grounded in built work and read through the methodological lens of forensic phenomenology, which frames detail not as resolution, but as a site of affective delay. These results do not aim for generalization, but for precision in attending to the ways surface, reflection, and assembly induce memory. What follows are two interpretive outputs: a taxonomy of phenomenological detail, and a reflection on atmosphere, vibration, and temporality as spatial effects.
6.1 Taxonomic Reading: Forensic Phenomenology of Detail
To unpack the mechanics behind these experiences, this study advances a complementary method: what may be termed forensic phenomenology, or a taxonomic reading of architectural strategies. Rooted in the principles of embodied perception and temporal unfolding as theorized by Bergson (1910) and Merleau-Ponty (1964), forensic phenomenology positions architectural meaning as emerging through lived, sensory experience. Within this framework, techniques such as architectural autopsy—a close reading of tectonic, material, and spatial syntax—are employed to reveal how affect is embedded in this methodology. It resists reducing affect to discrete elements; instead, it seeks to trace how materials and assembly techniques are calibrated to induce spatial sensation (Pallasmaa, 2009).
If we consider detail as a site where ideology and affect converge, then it becomes necessary to observe not only what is finished but also what is left unfinished. In Marfa, Judd leaves aluminum raw and milled—not polished or coated—inviting light distortion (Judd Foundation, 2020). In Bordeaux, mirror-polished stainless steel encases a structural concrete cylinder with a spiral stair held within. The mirrored stainless steel's purpose is not to reflect surroundings but to erase its mass, dematerializing support. At Casa del Fascio, green-tinted glass blocks refract daylight, bathing the interiors in an atmospheric hue that resembles a lost memory rather than mere illumination. These instances are not just examples of formalism; they serve as affective instruments (Holl, Pallasmaa, & Pérez-Gómez, 2006).
The following table takes these instances and organizes them into a comparative taxonomy, highlighting how specific architectural details operate phenomenologically—not merely as technical solutions, but as sensory instruments.
Table 1. Forensic Phenomenology Taxonomy
This forensic reading reveals that surface, reflection, and exposure are not decorative flourishes, but instrumental decisions—each one operating across the grain of tectonic expectations. They do not communicate through narrative; they communicate through sensation. The body is placed into calibration with light and matter, and it is this relationship—between human perception and material condition—that opens perception to memory’s duration.
Surface Strategy Architectural Detail Phenomenological Effect
Raw exposure Judd’s untreated mill aluminum boxes Material co-authors light; geometry destabilized
Precision reflection OMA’s polished stainless-steel column cover in Bordeaux Support disappears; volume floats
Cladding omission OMA’s joint in Bordeaux courtyard left exposed Reveals assembly; emphasizes rawness
Tectonic layering Terragni’s atrium in Casa del Fascio Geometry filtered through material ambiguity
Furniture-as-instruction Terragni’s forward-tilting chairs in Casa del Fascio Time moderated; comfort denied
6.2 Reflected Worlds and the Space of Memory
If architecture is a medium of memory, then reflection plays a pivotal role (Vidler, 2001). Reflected surfaces fracture perception; they multiply and distort. In Judd’s work, this creates an instability like memory itself—selective, affective, and unpredictable. In Terragni, reflection via light filtered through material becomes a register of duration. The slow saturation of green light transforms space into experience.
James Turrell’s luminous environments resonate here, where vibration emerges as both a visual effect and an embodied sensory event (Turrell, 2022). Light filters, absorbs, and refracts in time to produce vibration (Turrell, 2001). Cézanne’s insistence on “seeing with touch” echoes in the haptic detail and chromatic delay (Merleau-Ponty, 1964) seen in both Terragni’s glass block and Judd’s mill aluminum boxes (Bois, 2013). Johannes Itten, teaching at the Bauhaus, extended Cézanne’s haptic bridging across the senses by asking students to translate one sense into another. In one exercise, they smelled citrus and visualized sharpness—practices that trained the mind to see through the body (Itten, 1975).
What unites these works is a commitment to atmosphere not as an afterthought, but as a primary mode of spatial experience. These architects do not decorate space; they orchestrate perceptual events. They inscribe time into material. They make architecture that is not consumed at first glance but revealed over time and across seasons, with memory acting as a co-conspirator (Zumthor, 2006).
7. Discussion: Between Perception and Construction
This study began with a set of deceptively simple questions: How is architecture remembered—not just cognitively, but sensorially? How do works grounded in rational formalism produce emotional and atmospheric aftereffects? Through a comparative and material reading of Donald Judd’s 100 Untitled Works in Mill Aluminum, Giuseppe Terragni’s Casa del Fascio, and elements of OMA’s Villa Bordeaux, this paper has argued that architectural memory is not the product of symbolic meaning or functional clarity, but of calibrated atmospheric delay—of how geometry, material, and reflection induce perceptual uncertainty.
These findings reframe the architectural detail not as resolution but as indeterminacy—a site where construction, light, and affect intermingle. They extend the phenomenological tradition advanced by theorists such as Merleau-Ponty (1964) and Bergson (1910), while adding forensic specificity: a taxonomy of surface operations that destabilize space in order to activate memory. If Merleau-Ponty saw perception as an embodied crossing of space and time, and Bergson defined duration as the overlap of past and present, this paper situates architectural memory precisely at the juncture of sensory delay and tectonic expression (Bergson, 1910; Merleau-Ponty, 1964).
The case studies support and complicate these theories. Judd’s reflective aluminum boxes do not show space—they shimmer, resist legibility, and demand temporal adjustment. Terragni’s green-tinted glass blocks do not illuminate—they absorb, color, and shift the register of experience. In Bordeaux, the translucency of glass, the dematerialization of the acrylic sink, and the ambient blue-green of the resin-encased bookcase reframe ordinary domestic moments through conditions of perceptual latency. In all cases, what lingers is not what is seen, but how seeing occurs—filtered, delayed, contingent.
These insights also challenge assumptions in more conventional architectural discourse, where detail often equates to precision or craft. Instead, this work suggests that detail can be a mode of temporal operation—a tool for memory, rather than an aesthetic flourish. This nuance aligns with Pérez-Gómez’s (2006) conception of architecture as a form of “ethical imagination” and with Vidler’s (2001) readings of spatial anxiety and distortion. But unlike these, this study embeds such claims in direct constructional analysis and professional engagement—what was felt is inseparable from what was built.
Practically, these findings carry implications for the way architects conceive of material decisions, especially in a digital era dominated by speed, efficiency, and surface scripting. Rather than treat atmosphere as secondary to program or envelope, designers might foreground perceptual delays—strategically integrating chromatic filtering, reflection, and roughness as instruments of thought. This has relevance for not only cultural or domestic architecture but also for educational and institutional environments that seek to foster memory and presence.
There are, however, limitations. This study is deliberately narrow in scope, privileging deep readings of a few sites rather than broad generalizations. Its method—what was termed “forensic phenomenology”—relies on subjective perception, anecdotal knowledge, and extended observation. While this yields rich description, it does not lend itself to empirical quantification. Future work might expand this taxonomy through more systematic field studies, user-based perceptual feedback, or sensory mapping technologies.
Still, the potential is clear. If architecture is to reassert its experiential power in a landscape of metrics and algorithms, then attending to memory—not as metaphor but as operational logic—may prove essential. This paper offers one such model: an account of space that is not simply made, but sensed, and whose meaning unfolds in time.
8. Conclusion: Assemblies of Memory
Together, these works remind us that memory is not tethered to a single sense. A touch may recall a sound; a temperature may evoke a scent; a smell may reawaken the vibration of light. Architecture, then, is not merely visual or tactile—it is a field of cross-sensory inscription, where affect lingers and memory emerges. Varela, Thompson, and Rosch (1991) argue that memory is not something stored but rather an enactment through lived experience—they suggest that memory unfolds not as static content but as a temporal, lived process. Merleau-Ponty (1964) similarly reminds us that the past is not behind us, but rather "folded into how we touch and sense the world." Massumi (2002) describes memory as "emergent affect," arising from embodied intensity during encounters with stimuli. Böhme (2017) extends this further: atmosphere itself becomes a vessel for memory—felt rather than remembered, spatial rather than stored. In this synesthetic field, architecture unsettles the boundaries of perception, ultimately oscillating between no-sense and sense.
The forensic phenomenology developed here offers not a method of interpretation, but a method of attending—to the delays, gaps, and residual sensations that architecture leaves behind. This interplay of sense and recall is vividly embodied in Judd’s shimmering aluminum, Terragni’s green-washed atrium, and the refracted thresholds of Bordeaux—where atmosphere becomes the means by which architecture outlasts its own form.
9) Acknowledgements
This paper benefited from the generosity and insight of many individuals and dialogues across time and place. I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Professor Frank Weiner of Virginia Tech, whose conversations on duration, the phenomenology of Bergson and Merleau-Ponty, and the atmospheres explored by Gernot Böhme significantly informed the theoretical grounding of this work.
Special thanks to Urs Peter Flückiger (“Upe”) for both his publication Donald Judd: Architecture in Marfa, Texas (Birkhäuser, 2021) and our conversations on Judd’s architectural sensibility. His reflections on Judd’s arsenal of 100 milled aluminum boxes and the concept of Gesamtkunstwerk—or total artwork—provided invaluable clarity on the artist’s commitment to total design integration.
I am also grateful to Rem Koolhaas, whose candid exchanges—both at the Bordeaux Villa and over breakfast at the Saint James Hotel—offered rare insights into art, architecture, spatial performance, material tactics, and programmatic innovation. .
Equally formative were conversations with Maarten Van Severen, particularly those at the Bordeaux Villa and at his atelier in Ghent, Belgium. His material precision and attention to the sensual register of architecture have left a lasting impression on this study.
I would also like to acknowledge Philip Johnson, whose conversations during the drive from the Bordeaux airport to the Villa, and later at the house itself, offered crucial insights into the spatial effects of reflection and architectural disorientation. His reflections on the mirrored ambiguities within the Villa Bordeaux, and his comparative thoughts on Mies van der Rohe’s material rigor and Rem Koolhaas’s spatial provocations, deepened the paper’s exploration of perceptual instability and architectural lineage.
Finally, portions of the editing, organization, and grammatical refinement of this manuscript were supported by AI-based writing tools, including OpenAI’s ChatGPT for ideation and structural clarity, and Grammarly for grammar, style, and consistency checks. Their use was limited to editorial assistance in alignment with academic integrity standards.
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12. Figure for Section 6.1 Taxonomic Reading: Forensic Phenomenology of Detail
Surface Strategy Architectural Detail Phenomenological Effect
Raw exposure Judd’s untreated mill aluminum boxes Material co-authors light; geometry destabilized
Precision reflection OMA’s polished stainless-steel column cover in Bordeaux Support disappears; volume floats
Cladding omission OMA’s joint in Bordeaux courtyard left exposed Reveals assembly; emphasizes rawness
Tectonic layering Terragni’s atrium in Casa del Fascio Geometry filtered through material ambiguity
Furniture-as-instruction Terragni’s forward-tilting chairs in Casa del Fascio Time moderated; comfort denied