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\begin{document}

\title{Reinventing airspace: spectatorship, fluidity, intimacy}


\author{Alberto Pepe}
\affil{Affiliation not available}



\date{\today}

\maketitle

\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{abstract}
Double click to add an Abstract%
\end{abstract}%



\selectlanguage{english}
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\section*{Abstract}
Airports are relatively recent architectural conceptions. Early airports, that appeared at the beginning of the twentieth century in Europe and in the United States, were merely open, spacious, grassy fields. They were built around their functional premise -- letting aircrafts land and take off -- and thus consisted, essentially, of a runway. Since then, the architecture of airports has gone a long way. In modern airports, functional design requirements are addressed alongside myriad technological, institutional, political and economical requirements that define the modern practice of air travel: airports nowadays ``accommodate a growing number of facilities that have nothing to do with aviation''\cite{ibelings:1998}.

In this paper, I introduce airports as socio-technical mobilities\cite{flowcity} and analyze them in an anthropological context. Drawing from the notion of `space' posited by Michel de Certeau\cite{deCerteau} and that of `non-place' by Marc Aug\'{e}\cite{auge}, I argue that the non-placeness of airports goes beyond spatial connotations: modern air travel has generated forms of crisis that have embedded themselves in the architecture and the modus operandi of contemporary airports. There is a large number of dynamics that fuel such crisis. Airports are necessarily located in a physical and tangible sense, yet their function is so tightly coupled with transience, mobility and spectatorship, that they bring anthropological accounts of `space' and `place' to unprecedented extremes. In this paper, I analyze three tensions that are inherently bound to the contemporary practice of air travel and that present themselves as symbiotic phenomena: \textit{intimacy/sameness} (BODY), \textit{spectatorship/solitude} (SPACE), \textit{fluidity/control} (TECHNOLOGY).

\begin{quote}
{\it The airport's performance of spectatorship creates new ordeals of solitude, the need for continual fluidity is attained by oppressive control and mechanization and the attempt to make passengers feel at home, results in flatness, sameness and the aseptic uniformity of the airport atmosphere.} 
\end{quote}
These crises are not isolated from each other. They coexist in the architecture and in the modus operandi of contemporary airports.

This article discusses the supermodern nature of airports with the relation to the three aforementioned tensional crises. Besides introducing the theoretical (necessarily anthropological) underpinnings of each critical tension, I explore their presence and interplay in the spatial fabric of a recently built airport: the Terminal 3 extension of Beijing's International Airport designed by Norman Foster.

\section*{Introduction}
Airports are relatively recent architectural conceptions. Early airports, that appeared at the beginning of the twentieth century in Europe and in the United States, were merely open, spacious, grassy fields. They were built around their functional premise -- letting aircrafts land and take off -- and thus consisted, essentially, of a runway. Since then, the architecture of airports has gone a long way. In modern airports, functional design requirements are addressed alongside myriad technological, institutional, political and economical requirements that define the modern practice of air travel: airports nowadays ``accommodate a growing number of facilities that have nothing to do with aviation''\cite{ibelings:1998}. Air travel has become a complex phenomenon and, in turn, airports have become complex structures. The modern (or rather supermodern) practice of air travel is having a profound effect not only on the architectural arrangement of airports but also on the surrounding urban fabric in which they exist: the airport is becoming integral part of the urban infrastructure and the urban infrastructure is becoming integral part of the airport\cite{guller:2003}.

\begin{quotation}
``[Airports] extend and redefine the metropolis; they explode boundaries and limits.'' \cite{tschumi}
\end{quotation}

Like cities, airports are `socio-technical mobilities'\cite{flowcity}. Flows of goods, people, services, electricity, waste, water, money and information are at the core of the urban infrastructure and such a networked environment is very well replicated in airports. Different kinds of networks interconnect seamlessly in logistical orchestration. In this amalgam, flows and mobilities become part of the \textit{infrastructure}: the assemblage of social, technical and virtual commodities that are so entrenched in the fabric and practice of the environment that are normally taken for granted and promptly forgotten (at least until an accident occurs)\cite{bowker}. Also, airports act as logistic platforms to sustain the flow to `more or less distant elsewheres'. The flow to elsewheres is evidently associated with the movement of people, cargo, luggage and planes that takes place between airports. Thus, for an airport, `elsewhere' is necessarily another airport. Yet, when we think of air travel, we normally think of traveling between cities, rather than airports: traveling from an airport to another acts as a surrogate for traveling from a city to another -- `airport hub to airport hub'\cite{urry:2002}.

The functional and architectural complexity of contemporary airports makes them ideal objects to speculate on the anthropological meaning of the notion of `place'. Marc Aug\'{e} defines airports as `non-places'\cite{auge}. Aug\'{e}'s formulation of non-place, is a derivation of, or rather a deviation from, the idea of `space' posited by Michel de Certeau\cite{deCerteau}. According to De Certeau, the act of social practice transforms a `place' into a `space'. Thus, a deserted street is a `place', but `the intersection of moving bodies' transforms it into a `space'. Aug\'{e} reformulates the notion of place/space in anthropological terms, by focusing on the individual, rather than collective spatial experiences. He posits that certain spaces, although being `frequented' are inherently uniform and flat to the point that they resist any sort of subjective, emotional attachment. Aug\'{e}'s notion of non-place is not unique to airports. Non-places are also other `constructions of the everyday world'\cite{acevedo-riker:2006} such as railway stations, aircrafts, hotels, shopping malls and leisure parks. It is true that all these non-places share a number of common characteristics and they all resist the attribution of `space' in the sense postulated by De Certeau. However, the non-placeness of airports goes beyond spatial connotations. Modern air travel has generated forms of crisis that have embedded themselves in the architecture and the modus operandi of contemporary airports.

A growing body of literature concerned with the architecture of airports has unveiled a number of dynamics that fuel such crises. Airports are necessarily located in a physical and tangible sense, yet their function is so tightly coupled with transience, mobility and spectatorship, that they bring Aug\'{e}'s notion of non-place to unprecedented extremes.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/matteo/matteo}
\caption{{Spectatorship/solitude, fluidity/control, intimacy/sameness: busy walkway at Bangkok Airport%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

In this paper, I analyze three tensions that are inherently bound to the contemporary practice of air travel and that present themselves as symbiotic phenomena: \textit{spectatorship/solitude}, \textit{fluidity/control} and \textit{intimacy/sameness}. The airport's performance of spectatorship creates new ordeals of solitude, the need for continual fluidity is attained by oppressive control and mechanization and the attempt to make passengers feel at home, results in flatness, sameness and the aseptic uniformity of the airport atmosphere. These crises are not isolated from each other. They coexist in the architecture and in the modus operandi of contemporary airports. Can such tensional crises be solved by reworking the design of airports in architectural terms?

The architectural redesign of airports in the past few decades has specifically addressed some of the crises described thus far\cite{neufville}. Some projects have targeted fluidity and motion, by reinventing passenger transportation and the arrangement of luggage conveyor belts; some have targeted the intimacy/familiarity component, introducing private lounge areas and providing free wi-fi Internet access; others have targeted solely the functional/mechanical aspect redesigning concourses in light of increased passenger traffic and security. Rarely, however, have these design considerations attempted a reinvention of the airport --- rethinking it from scratch. One such attempt is evident in the recently completed Terminal 3 extension of the Beijing Capital International Airport\footnote{IATA code: PEK}. This airport terminal, designed by Norman Foster, and completed in a record five-year period, just in time for Beijing's 2008 Olympic Games, reflects the need to entirely reinvent \textit{airspace} by rethinking the airport from scratch\cite{newyorker}.

\section*{Spectatorship/solitude}
The performance of spectatorship is typical of many non-places.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/long-solo/long-solo}
\caption{{Spectatorship and solitude: Seattle airport%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

In shopping malls, for example, spectatorship transcends the individual and manifests itself as the `totality of the visual': the spectacle is a fundamental constituent of the shopping mall landscape, its capitalism and its social relations\cite{debord:2005}. In airports, however, spectatorship inhibits social interaction, rather than augmenting it.

\begin{quotation}
``The individual feels himself to be a spectacle without paying to much attention to the spectacle. As if the position of the spectator were the essence of the spectacle''\cite{auge}.
\end{quotation}
In airports, the line separating spectators and non-spectators blurs to the point that we ``behave like tourists not only when on holiday, but also in everyday life''\cite{ibelings:1998}.

The spectator/spectacle duality was already depicted by Charles Baudelaire in his analysis of the `primal modern scenes' of the streets in nineteenth century Paris \cite{baudelaire:1846}.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/cafe/cafe}
\caption{{``Vitrine de Paris''%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

From the viewpoint of his table in his favorite caf\'{e}, Baudelaire's gaze dissolved in the landscape to become object of third-party spectatorship. How does Baudelaire's modernism translate into the transitory nature of contemporary airports? As Marshall Berman suggests, Baudelaire's view of modernism has become `exotically archaic' for we now live in a `far more ordered and protected' place, away from the `human' moving chaos of Paris in the 1850s\cite{Berman}. Thus, if the chaotic Paris street depicted by Baudelaire encompasses a modern experience of spectatorship, the airport, the epitome of order and protection, sits at the opposite extreme, providing a \textit{supermodern} experience of spectatorship. This kind of spectatorship creates a new form of solitude. The spectator in an airport, being confronted with a landscape of constant activity and anonymity, becomes a component piece of such landscape --- a spectator and a spectacle at the same time.

In the design of Beijing's Terminal 3, Norman Foster delivers the performance of spectatorship, but resists solitude, by reintroducing the sumptuous and grand spaces typical of train station concourses. The terminal structure is gigantesque -- covering over one million square meters -- making it the world's largest airport building\cite{foster:2008}. Yet, the Beijing terminal is not the `endless building' posited by Rem Koolhaas --- a continuous sweeping space whose borders are delimited by the presence of air conditioning\cite{koolhaas:2002}. Despite being massive, the terminal is `an array of functionally diverse spaces'\cite{pascoe:2002} under a single unifying roof. The building consists of two large triangular structures connected to each other via one of their vertices. At the far edges of the triangles are the domestic and international terminals, respectively.%\begin{figure}[ht!]\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/siteplan/siteplan}
\caption{{Beijing Terminal 3: Site plan%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

The ample terminal space at Beijing references the grandness of arrival concourses in old train stations.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/skylight/skylight}
\caption{{Beijing Terminal 3: skylights%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

Unlike many conventional airports in which the departing and arrival gates are located at the extremities of endless corridors, the gates of the Beijing terminal are located along the sides of the triangles of the main terminal spaces, allowing passengers to watch planes arrive and depart from the gates, much like the tracks in a train station. Also, the terminal is awash with natural daylight, diffused through the skylights in the roof. The sumptuous spaces awash with natural daylight recreate the spectacle and the spectatorship of air travel, in its full splendor:

\begin{quotation}
``The beauty of an airport lies in the splendor of its space!''
--Le Corbusier\cite{corbu}
\end{quotation}\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/spine/spine}
\caption{{Beijing Terminal 3: Spine section, terminal concourse with skylights%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

Ample spaces and natural light enforce spectatorship stirring away solitude. In such majesty of space and light, ``nothing could be further from the windowless basements of Kennedy airport.''\cite{newyorker}.

\section*{Fluidity/control}
The concept of ``continual fluidity''\cite{wood_air} is ingrained within the functional and structural fabric of contemporary airports. Fluidity means incessant, ordered and controlled motion, aimed at efficiency and speed. To support this functional requirement, airports have become ``machines for processing people, airplanes, automobiles, cargo and luggage''\cite{newyorker}. In this paradigm, the best and most functional airports are those in which planes, passengers and luggage spend as little time as possible in them: the less time spent on the ground, the more functional the airport. How is continual fluidity attained in an airport? Certainly not by the \textit{mouvements brusques} --- `the inherently human gestures of everyday life'\cite{Berman} --- depicted by Baudelaire. These chaotic orchestration of the combined gestures and gazes taking places in the streets of Paris elicit poetry, but do not ensure maximization of continual fluidity. Rather, fluidity in contemporary airports is attained by dynamics of mechanization, security and meticulous control.

Control and security mechanisms reinforce the supermodern character of airports.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/pleasewait/pleasewait}
\caption{{A security check point: `controlled dwelling'%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

Passengers are constantly watched and `managed' by the use of surveillance cameras, biometric technologies and assessment of their biographical profile\cite{lyon}. The use of such control mechanisms increases the alienation and the disembodiment of passengers from the physicality of space\cite{absent}: airport security requires passengers to constantly prove their identity by matching their `flesh bodies' against their relevant `digital bodies': `image archives and credit card purchases, social security information, and travel itineraries'\cite{fuller:2003}. This blend of oppressive mechanization and heightened security systems contributes in shaping not only the social practices of moving passengers, but also the architecture of airports that has to adapt to the conceptual requirements of these systems. Such excessive need for efficiency renders airports much like the `operating machines' described by Michel Foucault in his metaphorical discourse around prisons\cite{foucalt_prisons}. Airport passengers are essentially tagged with information --- they are metadata. Based on their tags --- business class, first class, gold card member, economy --- they are compelled to dwell and act within specific areas of the airport --- priority check-in, priority boarding, business lounge, ordinary waiting rooms [1].\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/manila/manila}
\caption{{Signage at Manila airport%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

\begin{quotation}
``...a spatially and socially segmented world --- people here, traffic there; work here, homes there; rich here; poor there.''\cite{Berman}
\end{quotation}

Peter Adey defines such act of ``positioning passengers through various and perhaps unconscious technological arrangements'' as `controlled dwelling'\cite{adey}. Controlled dwelling is further exacerbated by signage: `an interface for social relations between humans and machines'\cite{fuller:2002}. By extended use of pictograms and inscriptions, airport signage creates a navigation system that links moving bodies to their presupposed position and path in space [2]. In whatever form (prescriptive, prohibitive and informative\footnote{{\bf Forms of signage}. \\ Prescriptive: \textit{Take the right lane}, Prohibitive: \textit{No smoking}, \\ Informative: \textit{You are at Gate 5A}}), signage embodies the `imperatives of global transit'\cite{fuller:2002} urging travelers to take active participation in the correct and fluid functioning of the airport machine.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/signage/signage}
\caption{{Signage at Singapore airport%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

Continual fluidity resonates with oppressive control and mechanization. Control and mechanization, in turn, reinforce the the supermodern character of airports. How are fluidity and efficiency addressed by Foster in Beijing's Terminal 3 without incurring in an architecture of excessive control? Overall, PEK T3 was designed to accommodate an estimated 80 million passengers and 580,000 flights every year. With such a large amount of predicted traffic, it is obvious that the fluid motion of planes, passengers and luggage needs to be enforced. Beijing's Terminal 3 features a high-speed people mover that transports passengers between domestic and international terminals (the two ends of the triangles) in less than 2 minutes. Similarly, luggage moves fast upon forty miles of conveyor belts that can handle 20,000 pieces of luggage per hour.

Yet, Foster's design does not solely address fluidity and efficiency by state-of-the-art technological innovations. There are at least two architectural components of his design for Beijing airport that are fundamentally innovative.

First, rather than reducing and fragmenting available dwelling spaces --- forcing passengers to move along narrow corridors and within specific spatial and technological arrangements --- Foster blew up space, fitting the entire terminal under a single unifying roof.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/large/large}
\caption{{Beijing Terminal 3: A single roof links domestic and international terminals%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

Second, Foster reduced signage to a minimum, embedding the navigation system into the color scheme of the terminal. The terminal's roof, visible from anywhere in the airport, is painted in 16 different color tones: from red at the entrance of the domestic terminal through to orange and yellow at the far end of the international terminal. 
The airport thus feels straightforward to navigate: it guides passengers around the terminal without excessive signage.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/nocorridor/nocorridor}
\caption{{Beijing Terminal 3: single unifying roof%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

\section*{Intimacy/sameness}
Although constantly striving for speed, motion and fluidity, airports also exert an immobilizing force on passengers. As soon as they are done dealing with security, check-in procedures, and `everyday responsibilities', passengers rush into commercial stores to `experience the reality of [their] momentary availability'\cite{auge}. 
Airports seek to convey a sense of familiarity to its passengers by offering the most convenient setting in which to spend their time and their money. Frequent travelers quickly become acquainted with airport's designs, their services, their standardized modus operandi by developing habits and routines. Routine and familiarity, in turn, make travelers feel `at home'\cite{tuan}. Yet, the type of `home' that passengers construct in their interplay with contemporary airports does not emerge from a `struggle'\cite{Berman} in a modern sense [3]. The airport, as a supermodern home, is ultimately aimed at bringing tourism into everyday life. Passengers do not familiarize themselves with the \textit{uniqueness} of airports, developing an intimate relationship with their distinctive spatial, customary and sensorial traits. Rather, they acquaint themselves with the \textit{sameness} of the airport atmosphere: lavatories, restaurants, cafes, Internet points, and news stands \textit{that all look the same}.

\begin{quotation}
``Today my favorite kind of atmosphere is the airport atmosphere. [...] my favorite kind of food service, my favorite kind of bathrooms, my favorite peppermint Life Savers, my favorite kinds of entertainment [...] my favorite conveyor belts, my favorite graphics and colors, the best security checks, the best views, the best perfume shops, the best employees, the best optimism.''\cite{warhol:1976}
\end{quotation}

Worldwide, globalization contributes to the \textit{flattening} of the `airport atmosphere' posited by Warhol. Fueled by a recent economic growth and the opening of its markets to the West, China, more than any other country, is certainly subject to such flattening effect. The infiltration of the global, networked mobilities into China's infrastructure is evident. The spirit in which the new Beijing terminal was designed and built, in light of the 2008 Olympic Games, fully reflects such dynamics. PEK T3 boasts 64 Western and Chinese restaurants, including a Burger King, many luxury shops and even a massage parlor\cite{newyorker}.
Many components that define the `airport atmosphere' are present. Expensive cappuccinos and high-end perfume stores have landed at the new Beijing terminal via the airways of globalization.

Yet, Foster has attempted to \textit{situate} Beijing's Terminal 3 in the urban fabric in which it raises, by blending into the design a number of elements that are typical of traditional Chinese art and architecture. The use of such elements has created a variety of critiques that have analyzed the success (or failure) of the marriage between different architectural styles. The Foster+Partners website\footnote{Ibid, Foster+Partners.}, for example, describes the external edges of the building and the interior palette of red and yellows to be evocative of traditional Chinese temples and colors, respectively. Its golden roof has been noted to `resonate with the Forbidden City'. The triangular shape of the terminals' roof has also been often compared to the shape of a dragon --- a traditional Chinese symbol. But, as Goldberger notes, ``had Foster built the airport in Mexico City, would have he have said that it looked like an iguana?''\cite{newyorker}.

Drawing 
a parallel between the shape of the airport terminal and that of a traditional Chinese dragon, as well as other similar speculations constructed \textit{a posteriori}, are unnecessary exaggerations. Rather, the decoration of the interior, with traditional Chinese sculptures and colors, certainly achieves much better the goal to bring locality and situatedness into the terminal's design without resulting in `gross caricatures and kitsch' of adjusting universal design to local cultural conditions\cite{rowe:1996}.  
The fundamental point is that the ensemble of the architectural components discussed thus far --- the ample concourse spaces, the natural daylight, the simplicity of the navigation system, the Chinese lines and colors --- makes Beijing's Terminal 3 a memorable airport, unique in its own way. It is in such a \textit{space} that passengers can develop an aesthetic and sensorial perception of familiarity. Passengers departing from or arriving to Beijing's Terminal 3 experience the airport in its unique nature, rather than a surrogate `airport atmosphere'. The uniqueness of T3's design, attempts to break the inherently non-placeness of contemporary airports.\selectlanguage{english}
\begin{figure}[h!]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.98\columnwidth]{figures/dark/dark}
\caption{{Beijing Terminal 3: a `space' rather than a `non-place'%
}}
\end{center}
\end{figure}

\section*{Conclusion}
In this article I have argued that in the design of Beijing's Terminal 3, Norman Foster has challenged the conventional architecture of airports,
 solving three crisis that are tightly coupled with their supermodern nature. The scenario presented in this article situates airports at the tensional intersection of spectatorship/solitude, fluidity/control and intimacy/sameness. In order to provide the sensation of spectatorship, contemporary airports create new ordeals of solitude; in order to attain continual fluidity, oppressive control mechanisms are enforced; finally, in an attempt to make passengers feel at home, airports become all the same: uniform, aseptic supermodern non-places. At PEK T3, these tensions are relaxed. By reinventing the airport terminal in the image of train station concourses, Foster reinvents the splendor of space, awash with natural daylight to resist the solitude of travel. The straightforward orientation system, embedded in the color palette of the roof, coupled with the spatial arrangement of domestic and international halls, provides natural fluidity without incurring in oppressive signage and control. The use of traditional Chinese colors and lines is an attempt to situate the airport in its local cultural fabric, opposing the flattening effect of the globalized airport atmosphere.

Certainly, reinventing the airport at Beijing came at a cost. Not only in monetary terms, the airport costing over three billion dollars to be built, but also in terms of labor, public space and policy. The entire terminal structure covers an area of more than one million square meters and about 10,000 residents had to be evacuated to make way for Terminal 3. Also, in order to allow completion of such a large structure in a record five-year period, 40,000 construction workers physically relocated to the site, `working eight-hour shifts around the clock'\cite{faster}. Only in the fertile architectural setting of modern China, could a project of this caliber have taken place. The pressing need to build a state-of-the-art airport in light of the Olympic Games, overshadowed possible issues linked to poor working conditions, environmental considerations and urban planning. In order to reinvent the airport as a `space' and rework airport design from scratch, Foster had to operate a small-scale \textit{tabula rasa}. In these terms, Beijing might be considered an experimental platform that will hopefully inspire a number of other projects that, like PEK T3, revive the nostalgic romance of air travel.

\vspace*{0.2in}

\section*{\large \bf Notes}

\begin{enumerate}
\item Beyond controlling the movement of passengers in space, airports are increasing monitoring the temporal component of their stay. Adey notes that airports strive to increase `dwell times' by holding passengers in shopping areas and then letting them go `at the suitable point', just in time to make their flight\footnote{Ibid, Adey}. Thus, passengers are compelled to shop, spend money and time, for as long as possible, but no longer. Much like in many urban areas, prolonged dwelling, or homelessness, has increasingly become a cause of concern for airport authorities in recent years\cite{time:homeless}. In newer airports, public seating is reduced to the bare minimum to encourage patronage of caf\'{e}s\cite{lockton:2008}, and departure gates are announced at the latest possible moment while passengers wait in the lounge. 
%\marginfigure{
%\includegraphics{graphics/bench}
%\caption{A bench with central armrest}}
Also, the design of benches follows very much many urban designs that make it impossible to lie down by the use of multiple central armrests or the removal of the middle seat\cite{hopper:1991}. 
\item Yet, the presupposed path proposed by signage does not always correspond with the desired one: 
\begin{quotation}
Where once signage promised to deliver you to where you wanted to be, it now obfuscates and entangles you in a thicket of cuteness that forces you past unwanted detours, turns you back when you're lost.
\begin{flushright}
--Rem Koolhaas\cite{koolhaas:2002}
\end{flushright} 
\end{quotation}
\item Marshall Berman defines modernism as a `struggle to make ourselves at \textit{home} in a constantly changing world'\footnote{Ibid, Berman}. 
\end{enumerate}

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