Navigation – Plan du site

AccueilNuméros76PortfoliosA gigantic vertical zoo

Portfolios

A gigantic vertical zoo

Madness and the green city
Des FITZGERALD
Cet article est une traduction de :
Un gigantesque zoo vertical

Résumé

Why is it that when we see images of major new urban developments today – whether housing units, office blocks, or shopping malls – those developments are as likely as not to be covered in a thin canopy of trees? In this paper, I approach this question by thinking about the long history of the idea that cities are somehow bad for human beings, and especially that they are bad for our mental health. From Shanghai to Paris, from Biophilia to “cheap nature”, from Donna Haraway to Thomas Heatherwick, I examine the growing entanglement between the psychologically restorative city and the green city. I ask: what does it mean, for historical cultures of both madness and the city, that we now ask our urban spaces, recast as centres of nature and biological life, to have even a reparative relationship to mental health?

Haut de page

Entrées d’index

Haut de page

Notes de l’auteur

Work for this project was supported by the Leverhulme Trust (PLP-2017-152). The author is also funded in part by the Wellcome Trust (203109/Z/16/Z). For the purpose of open access, the author has applied a CC BY public copyright licence to any Author Accepted Manuscript version arising from this submission.

Texte intégral

“1,000 Trees”

  • 1 Lizzie Crook, “Heatherwick Studio Reveals 1,000 Trees Nearing Completion in Shanghai”, Dezeen. 12 N (...)

1In November 2019, photographs appeared in the international design press of a new mountain in downtown Shanghai. From the images, the mountain seemed to be made from a series of concrete pillars set at different heights. These had been forested close together until they formed a semi-convincing mound. Each pillar was then topped with a single tree, thus vaguely simulating, at least from a distance, a naturally rolling, woody hill. If this green emergence was somewhat uncanny, it was at least not unexplained: in fact, it was part of a major new construction project, “1,000 Trees”, a development from the Tian An China Investment Company Limited.1 Covering more than 300,000 square metres, “1,000 Trees” is, one might say, just another complex of high-end retail and residential units – another boring story of design-led speculation, and the capitalization of space, in China’s still-booming mega-cities.

2But this is not, I think, another boring construction. For one thing, it has the name of a celebrity designer attached: Thomas Heatherwick, the British designer and architect, who was commissioned following the popular success of the British Pavilion at the 2010 Shanghai Expo. For that project, the “Seed Cathedral”, Heatherwick had taken inspiration from London’s botanical institutions: borrowing thousands of seeds from places like the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, and placing them on the tips of clear fibre rods, his team created a kind of giant seed pin-cushion, a bizarre, secular shrine to the practice of seed banking, but also a monument to an increasingly precarious environmental horizon, of which the seeds were made both bearer and protector.

Fig.1 : 1,000 Trees

Heatherwick Studio, 2019

https://www.dezeen.com/​2019/​11/​12/​1000-trees-shanghai-heatherwick-studio/​

  • 2 See Sebastian Jordana, “UK Pavilion for Shanghai World Expo 2010 / Heatherwick Studio.” Arch Daily, (...)
  • 3 Donna Haraway, “Teddy Bear Patriarchy: Taxidermy in the Garden of Eden, New York City, 1908-1936”, (...)

3Around the “Seed Cathedral”, the fibre rods were made to literally penetrate the building and draw the outside in, playing with dynamics of interior and exterior – staging a drama between the natural world of the seeds, on the one hand, and the great urban confection of Shanghai, on the other.2 When I first saw pictures of people in this building, I was reminded of Donna Haraway’s famous reading of the American Museum of Natural History’s Africa Hall, where “nature” and “the city” are placed into a firm hierarchical order, such that passage through the hall actually reproduces a certain mode of Anglo-American colonial masculinity.3 In Heatherwick’s domain, by contrast, passage seems less a rite of masculine domination, and more an anxious, bureaucratic practice of accounting and risk assessment: here, after all, are the seeds, bathed in light, banked prayerfully against an ecological future that seems less and less certain.

Fig. 2 : Inside the Seed Cathedral

UK Exhibit, World Expo 2010

https://www.flickr.com/​photos/​davespencer/​4628786470

  • 4 Des Fitzgerald, Nick Manning, Nikolas Rose & Hua Fu, “Mental Health, Migration and the Megacity”, I (...)
  • 5 Edmund Ramsden, “From Rodent Utopia to Urban Hell: Population, Pathology, and the Crowded Rats of N (...)
  • 6 Ash Amin & Lisa Richaud, “Life amidst Rubble: Migrant Mental Health and the Management of Subjectiv (...)

4I first read about “1,000 Trees” while I was actually in Shanghai as a minor member of a large international project that was not at all about buildings, but rather about mental illness.4 “Madness and the city” is of course an old and much-rehearsed theme: urban spaces have long been associated with the production of pathogenic stress, as well as high rates of mental illness more generally.5 Our project, by contrast, was an attempt to think more capaciously about the multiple environments of the city, and about how those environments might interact with specifically urban forms of subjectivity, feeling, and crisis. My colleagues’ ethnographic focus was on the stresses of being a rural-to-urban migrant in a time of massive property development and upheaval in Shanghai – tracking the management of everyday low feeling, as municipal authorities sometimes made literal rubble of migrant homes and streets.6 I was instantly struck by “1,000 Trees” because it seemed like exactly the other side of such ruination: a high-end designer space of bourgeois consumption, it appeared to reify the “high-quality” city that municipal authorities were working hard to produce. At the same time, it also seemed to suggest something of a turn in the wider cultural politics of urban stress, the very object that we had been trying to make sense of in our project. This turn seemed to acknowledge the stressed, pathological mentality of the urban dweller, but then put that stress, and its potential repair, in explicit relation to the physical structures of buildings, and thus in relation to design. And not just any design but design that incorporated a very particular set of natural and natural-looking elements: gardens; mountains; living walls; unvarnished wood; running water; plants; trees.

  • 7 See Oliver Wainwright, “The Garden Bridge Is Dead – Now £37m of Public Money Must Be Repaid”, The G (...)
  • 8 Jess Baker, “Thames Garden Bridge Could Change London’s Landscape.” The Weather Channel, 15 Novembe (...)
  • 9 Rowan Moore, “Thomas Heatherwick: Pied Piper Who Has the Very Rich under His Spell”, The Guardian, (...)

5Heatherwick, who is based in London, was also the designer of the ill-fated “Garden Bridge” in that city, a controversial pedestrian crossing across the river Thames – also a pet project of the then mayor, Boris Johnson – that would double as a park. Despite millions of pounds being spent on it, the bridge never materialized, and the entire project was eventually wound up amid cost over-runs, and mounting concern that what was being created was less a bridge and more a subsidized corporate events space.7 But it was the vision of the garden that propelled this ludicrous project as long as it survived. Heatherwick Studio described it as a space that would form a “precious new piece of landscape [that] will add to London’s rich and diverse horticultural heritage of heathlands, parks, squares, allotments and community gardens and support many indigenous river edge plant species”.8 The actress Joanna Lumley, who – bizarrely – was the public driving force of the project, called Heatherwick “the green man” and said of him: ‘I believe he has come straight from the woods … he has an extraordinary affinity with nature.”9

Fig. : The Garden Bridge in London

Heatherwick Studio, 2013

http://www.heatherwick.com/​project/​garden-bridge/​

  • 10 See Jason W. Moore, Capitalism in the Web of Life: Ecology and the Accumulation of Capital, London, (...)

6Why is it that new urban developments, whether in housing, infrastructure, industry, or commerce, are more and more trafficked into the city under the sign of nature? Why is it a good idea – not only aesthetically and politically, but also psychologically – to cover 300,000 square metres of retail and living space, in 2021, with a canopy of trees? Partly what’s at stake here, of course, is a shift in the relations between capital and nature: if capitalism could once understand itself as a project of organizing earthly materials under its own design, today that imaginary is running into a sense of its own limit – centuries of rural extraction and urban accumulation can no longer so obviously rely on the industrial-scale processing of what Jason Moore calls “cheap nature”.10 This relational shift can be felt as a collective problem of environmental degradation and economic decline. But it is also perceptible at an individual and a psychological level, as tranquil, green, restful environments become less and less available to all but the very wealthy.

  • 11 MaryCarol R. Hunter, Brenda W. Gillespie & Sophie Yu-Pu Chen, “Urban Nature Experiences Reduce Stre (...)

7There is now a voluminous interdisciplinary literature arguing not only that urban living is associated with poor mental health, but also that this problem could be alleviated with more green spaces for urban residents. One recent study even recommended that urban dwellers take a “nature pill” at least three times per week (i.e. spend more than 10 minutes in contact with nature) to decrease the psychosocial stress associated with urban living and thus improve their mental health.11 We might read a project like “1,000 Trees,” then, not as the simple extension of an urban park, not as the provision of a new green object in an otherwise hectic city, but rather as the sign of a growing anxiety that the physical environment of the city exceeds the human mind. I read Heatherwick’s work as a monument to a growing fear, among architects and clinicians, as well as municipal bureaucrats and city planners, that the central problem of urban life today is that we have left “nature” too far behind.

Like a monkey in a cage

  • 12 Edward O Wilson, Biophilia, Boston, MA, Harvard University Press, 1984/1990.
  • 13 Ibid., p. 1.
  • 14 Stephen R. Kellert, “Introduction”, in Stephen R. Kellert & Edward O. Wilson (eds), The Biophilia H (...)
  • 15 Wilson, Biophilia, pp. 12-13.
  • 16 Ibid., p. 109.
  • 17 Ibid., p. 112.
  • 18 Ibid., p. 118.

8In 1984, the biologist Edward O. Wilson published an odd mix of memoir and manifesto called Biophilia.12 At the heart of the volume – which is otherwise a mixture of Wilson’s usual bad prose and worse ideas – is a claim that humans have an inbuilt need, even a propulsive desire, to be around living things. He describes biophilia as our “innate tendency to focus on life and lifelike processes” – like a moth towards a flame, says Wilson, from earliest infancy human beings are seduced by, and move towards, animate, living things.13 The concept of biophilia “proclaims”, as Wilson’s collaborator, Stephen Kellert, later put it, “a human dependence on nature that extends far beyond the simple issues of physical and material sustenance to encompass as well the human craving for aesthetic, intellectual, cognitive, and even spiritual meaning and satisfaction”.14 But under conditions of industrial modernity, so it is argued, this craving goes unsatisfied – and therein pathology emerges. “The natural world is the refuge of the spirit,” Wilson wrote, but in our push towards industrialization and urbanization, “we are killing the thing we love”.15 This biophilic tendency is most pronounced in our sense of place. The brain apparently evolved within a very particular environment: “the savannas of Africa … vast parklike grasslands”.16 Thus the mind is predisposed to life on the savanna: left to their own devices, Wilson says, people move to “open tree-studded land, on prominences overlooking water” – this is the product of a “deep genetic memory of mankind’s optimal environment”.17 In a striking thought experiment at the end of the book, Wilson imagines an attempt to create a simulation of the human world on a space colony. The chief obstacle to such a colonization, says Wilson, is not how to breathe or build; rather it is the “mental health of the colonists” – because the colony itself, erected on a desolate planet, would contain no life whatsoever. He concludes: “People grow up with the outward appearance of normality in an environment largely stripped of plants and animals in the same way that passable looking monkeys can be raised in laboratory cages.”18

Fig. : Valley of the Yosemite by Albert Bierstadt, 1868, a painting much admired by Edward O. Wilson

https://fr.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Fichier:Bierstadt_Albert_Yosemite_Valley_Yellowstone_Park.jpg

  • 19 Yannick Joye, “Architectural Lessons from Environmental Psychology: The Case of Biophilic Architect (...)
  • 20 Kaitlyn Gillis & Birgitta Gatersleben, “A Review of Psychological Literature on the Health and Well (...)
  • 21 Stephen R. Kellert & Elizabeth Calabrese, “The Practice of Biophilic Design”, n.d., p. 11. Availabl (...)

9In Wilson’s wake, an entire genre of biophilic architecture and design has emerged which takes a longstanding interest in vaguely natural-looking or organic forms (this often means: things that curve somewhat), but then repositions that interest within “empirical findings from diverse psychological subdisciplines”, showing that “contact with natural form is in a sense good for human psychological and physiological functioning”.19 As the psychologists Kaitlyn Gillis and Birgitta Gatersleben point out in a critical review, biophilic design draws on two concepts from environmental psychology, “attention restoration theory” and “stress recovery theory”, both of which, in essence, “suggest that some environments are stressful, others are not and yet others can actively help people recover from stress and mental fatigue”.20 In other words, the claim is not simply that “natural” spaces are good to be in, or that they make people feel good; the claim is that designing according to natural principles may be critical for preserving our mental health, and especially so under conditions of increased urbanization. As Stephen Kellert and Elizabeth Calabrese put it in a manual of biophilic design: “When we lack visual contact with the natural world, such as a windowless and featureless space, we frequently experience boredom, fatigue, and in extreme cases physical and psychological abnormality.”21

Fig. : Spheres filled with plants at the Amazon headquarters in Seattle, an example of biophilic design

https://www.dezeen.com/​2018/​01/​30/​plant-filled-seattle-spheres-open-amazon-headquarters/​

  • 22 See Christina Cogdell, Toward a Living Architecture? Complexism and Biology in Generative Design, M (...)
  • 23 J.G. Ballard, Concrete Island, London, Harper Perennial, 1974/2008.
  • 24 Jean Baudrillard, “Ballard’s Crash”, Science Fiction Studies no. 18/3. Available at: https://www.de (...)
  • 25 J.G. Ballard, High-Rise, London, Harper Perennial, 1975/2006, p. 103.
  • 26 Michelle Murphy, Sick Building Syndrome and the Problem of Uncertainty: Environmental Science, Tech (...)
  • 27 Ballard, High-Rise, p. 5.
  • 28 Ibid., p. 28.
  • 29 Ibid., p. 45.
  • 30 Ibid., pp. 77, 191.

10There is not space here for a detailed critique of this multi-faceted and often rather strange movement.22 Instead I want to interlace this interest in biophilic design with discussion of another 20th-century writer who was deeply concerned about the relationship between psychological abnormality and building materials, and this is the British science fiction novelist J.G. Ballard. Particularly in the 1970s, the heroes of Ballard’s novels are often doctors, architects, or scientists, while plots centre on the making and unmaking of bourgeois life within the physical infrastructure of late modernity. In Concrete Island, a successful architect flips his car over the side of a motorway flyover, and has to remake his life, marooned on a scrap of land below.23 In Crash – “the first great novel of the universe of simulation”, as Baudrillard famously described it – a scientist re-enacts celebrity car crashes for erotic gain.24 But most relevant to the question of madness and design is Ballard’s 1975 novel High-Rise. The novel is about a doctor – Robert Laing – who takes a flat in a new high-rise development. The building’s architect, Antony Royal, lives in the penthouse suite. (As well as Laing’s name calling to mind the anti-psychiatrist R.D. Laing, of course, Royal’s living arrangement closely mirrors that of the architect Erno Goldfinger, who briefly lived at the top of his own iconic Balfron Tower in London.) Over a period of time, however, Laing, along with the other residents in the block, loses his reason, and the building descends, in a “slow psychological avalanche”, into gang violence, sexual assault, murder, and cannibalism.25 Surely not coincidentally, this is also the precise historical moment, as Michelle Murphy charts in her history of sick building syndrome, that white-collar office workers in the United States were becoming concerned about the novel chemical and ambient exposures produced by their hyper-modern new high-rise working environments.26 But it is much more generally the built environment of the city, for Ballard, that produces this scene of degeneration– its jittery skyline appearing like the “disturbed encephalograph of an unresolved mental crisis”.27 At one point, Laing leans over his balcony and wonders if the rolling roofs of the city form might be less “a habitable environment … [and more] the unconscious diagram of a mysterious psychic event”.28 What is at stake here, of course, is fear of a total psychic separation from an older, perhaps more ecologically normal mode of human life: the high-rise residents, Ballard suggests, were “the first to master a new kind of late twentieth-century life ... in many ways, the high-rise was a model of all that technology had done to make possible the expression of a truly ‘free psychopathology’”.29 Within such conditions of freedom, the real enemy of the residents roaming the building was not their neighbours, but rather “the image of the building in their own minds” – a “high-rise aviary”, as the architect Anthony Royal puts it, strangely echoing Edward O. Wilson, a “gigantic vertical zoo”.30

Fig. : The Balfron Tower, London, 2008

https://commons.wikimedia.org/​wiki/​File:Balfron_Tower1.JPG

Our Lady of Aquaponics

  • 31 Feargus O’Sullivan, “Paris Wants to Grow ‘Urban Forests’ at Famous Landmarks”, Bloomberg City Lab, (...)

11In 2019, I travelled to Paris for a gathering of global “thought leaders” on the benefits of making the city more green. It was an auspicious location: the mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo, had just announced a plan to surround the city’s major landmarks with trees, creating an “urban forest”. This would be no small endeavour: “The city imagines turning the square in front of city hall into a pine grove,” wrote the journalist Feargus O’Sullivan, “while future springtimes will see the opera house’s back elevation emerge from a sea of cherry blossom. The paved plaza at the side of the Gare de Lyon will become a woodland garden.”31

12The conference I was attending was a forum for scientists, planners, political leaders, and others to come together around a shared green city agenda. And it was big. Several hundred attendees from around the world gathered at the science campus of the newly reconstituted Sorbonne, including many of the major figures from the world of urban ecosystems. There was an art programme, an accompanying book of flash fiction, and a “farm to table” banquet. For an event happening on a university campus, it was all very slickly choreographed – with a rolling programme of public “dialogues”, “microtalks”, and “seed sessions”, ranging from how to finance green infrastructure to how to meditate with plants. There were speeches from various French political and business figures, a wordless performance about street trees that I didn’t understand, and lots of talk about the psychological benefits of nature. I went to one session where you got to wear a virtual reality headset to see what your green roof might look like, and also one where you had to pretend to be a place and then be psychoanalysed as if you were that place. An artist gave a talk on how she likes to dance with nature in the city, and later I saw her weaving her body, with great deliberation, through the array of small potted plants that lined the meeting’s entranceway.

Fig. 7: The author looking at a VR simulation of a green room

Fig. 7: The author looking at a VR simulation of a green room

Photo : Des Fitzgerald

13There was something very charming but also oddly evangelical about all of this – like a weird mix of Silicon Valley, Christian revivalism, and maybe also the more aggressively bourgeois bits of Extinction Rebellion. “Your project is so sacred and so wonderful,” said one speaker to another. Someone else said to a panel of presenters: “Your talks are so beautiful and poignant.” A planner told the crowd, with great seriousness, “My job is to be a healer.” One gets the idea. At the beginning of each day, everyone had to stand up, look around, and introduce themselves to the people nearest to them – it was that kind of conference. After a couple of days of this, I really needed a break, so I left my hotel one morning, and instead of heading for the conference, I turned and began walking down to the river, towards the Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris – which had been destroyed by fire only a few months earlier. The cathedral was cordoned off then, and closed to visitors. And yet still the ruined structure was a tourist landmark – people crowded the temporary fence, trying to get a good angle for a photo of the gaping hole, staring intently at the empty space where the spire used to be.

Fig. 8 : Vincent Callebaut’s proposal for the roof of Notre-Dame de Paris, 2019

https://vincent.callebaut.org/​object/​190503_tributetonotredame/​tributetonotredame/​projects

© Vincent Callebaut Architectures

  • 32 Tom Ravenscroft, “Vincent Callebaut Proposes a Roof That Generates Energy and Food for Notre-Dame C (...)

14Following a general invitation for new ideas from President Emmanuel Macron, the architect Vincent Callebaut proposed not simply rebuilding the cathedral’s roof but transforming it into a garden, complete with a park, a contemplation space, and an aquaponic farm. The cathedral, if it were to follow such a design, said Callebaut’s studio, “would become an exemplary eco-engineering structure, and the church a true pioneer in environmental resiliency”.32 This is a purely speculative design, of course; indeed, it was later decided that the spire would be rebuilt exactly as it had been before, despite Macron’s characteristically grandiose vision. And yet still, I thought, looking back through my souvenir photos some months later, in this attempt to remake the cathedral as a park, what better sign could we want that “nature” has truly become the iconic substance of spiritual reparation in the 21st-century city? What better signal, in this overlaying of the park on the cathedral, this replacement of one medieval technology by another, that it is the tree now, and not the spire, that marks the urban citizen’s attempt to transcend their own corporeal limits? What better ledger than this to record the city’s insistence, in the face of an increasingly apocalyptic environmental and psychological chorus, that it might yet have some kind of future?

Haut de page

Notes

1 Lizzie Crook, “Heatherwick Studio Reveals 1,000 Trees Nearing Completion in Shanghai”, Dezeen. 12 November 2019. Available at: https://www.dezeen.com/2019/11/12/1000-trees-shanghai-heatherwick-studio/. The complex opened in December 2021. See Casja Carlson, “Heatherwick Studio’s 1,000 Trees Opens in Shanghai”, Dezeen, 28 December 2021. Available at: https://www.dezeen.com/2021/12/28/heatherwick-studios-1000-trees-opens-shanghai/.

2 See Sebastian Jordana, “UK Pavilion for Shanghai World Expo 2010 / Heatherwick Studio.” Arch Daily, 3 May 2010. Available at: https://www.archdaily.com/58591/uk-pavilion-for-shanghai-world-expo-2010-heatherwick-studio.

3 Donna Haraway, “Teddy Bear Patriarchy: Taxidermy in the Garden of Eden, New York City, 1908-1936”, Social Text no. 11 (1984), pp. 20-64.

4 Des Fitzgerald, Nick Manning, Nikolas Rose & Hua Fu, “Mental Health, Migration and the Megacity”, International Health 11 (2019), pp. S1-S6.

5 Edmund Ramsden, “From Rodent Utopia to Urban Hell: Population, Pathology, and the Crowded Rats of NIMH”, Isis no. 102/4 (2011), pp. 659-688.

6 Ash Amin & Lisa Richaud, “Life amidst Rubble: Migrant Mental Health and the Management of Subjectivity in Urban China”, Public Culture no. 32/1 (2020), pp. 77-106.

7 See Oliver Wainwright, “The Garden Bridge Is Dead – Now £37m of Public Money Must Be Repaid”, The Guardian, 28 April 2017. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2017/apr/28/garden-bridge-dead-38m-public-money-repaid-boris-johnson.

8 Jess Baker, “Thames Garden Bridge Could Change London’s Landscape.” The Weather Channel, 15 November 2013. Available at: https://weather.com/home-garden/news/thomas-heatherwick-garden-bridge-thames-london-photos-20131115.

9 Rowan Moore, “Thomas Heatherwick: Pied Piper Who Has the Very Rich under His Spell”, The Guardian, 20 August 2017. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2017/aug/19/thomas-heatherwick-pied-piper-has-the-very-rich-under-his-spell.

10 See Jason W. Moore, Capitalism in the Web of Life: Ecology and the Accumulation of Capital, London, Verso, 2015.

11 MaryCarol R. Hunter, Brenda W. Gillespie & Sophie Yu-Pu Chen, “Urban Nature Experiences Reduce Stress in the Context of Daily Life Based on Salivary Biomarkers”, Frontiers in Psychology no. 10, 722. Available at: https://www.frontiersin.org/article/10.3389/fpsyg.2019.00722.

12 Edward O Wilson, Biophilia, Boston, MA, Harvard University Press, 1984/1990.

13 Ibid., p. 1.

14 Stephen R. Kellert, “Introduction”, in Stephen R. Kellert & Edward O. Wilson (eds), The Biophilia Hypothesis, Washington, DC, Island Press, 1993, pp. 20-27 (p. 20).

15 Wilson, Biophilia, pp. 12-13.

16 Ibid., p. 109.

17 Ibid., p. 112.

18 Ibid., p. 118.

19 Yannick Joye, “Architectural Lessons from Environmental Psychology: The Case of Biophilic Architecture”, Review of General Psychology no. 11/4 (2007), pp. 305-328 (p. 305).

20 Kaitlyn Gillis & Birgitta Gatersleben, “A Review of Psychological Literature on the Health and Wellbeing Benefits of Biophilic Design”, Buildings no. 5/3 (2015), pp. 948-963 (p. 949).

21 Stephen R. Kellert & Elizabeth Calabrese, “The Practice of Biophilic Design”, n.d., p. 11. Available at: https://www.biophilic-design.com/

22 See Christina Cogdell, Toward a Living Architecture? Complexism and Biology in Generative Design, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 2019.

23 J.G. Ballard, Concrete Island, London, Harper Perennial, 1974/2008.

24 Jean Baudrillard, “Ballard’s Crash”, Science Fiction Studies no. 18/3. Available at: https://www.depauw.edu/sfs/backissues/55/baudrillard55art.htm. J.G. Ballard, Crash, London: Harper Perennial, 1973/2008.

25 J.G. Ballard, High-Rise, London, Harper Perennial, 1975/2006, p. 103.

26 Michelle Murphy, Sick Building Syndrome and the Problem of Uncertainty: Environmental Science, Technopolitics and Women Workers, Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2006.

27 Ballard, High-Rise, p. 5.

28 Ibid., p. 28.

29 Ibid., p. 45.

30 Ibid., pp. 77, 191.

31 Feargus O’Sullivan, “Paris Wants to Grow ‘Urban Forests’ at Famous Landmarks”, Bloomberg City Lab, 19 June 2019. Available at: https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-06-19/paris-plans-urban-forests-at-famous-landmarks.

32 Tom Ravenscroft, “Vincent Callebaut Proposes a Roof That Generates Energy and Food for Notre-Dame Cathedral”, Dezeen,9 May 2019. Available at: https://www.dezeen.com/2019/05/09/notre-dame-roof-vincent-callebaut-energy-food-farm/

Haut de page

Table des illustrations

Titre Fig. 7: The author looking at a VR simulation of a green room
Crédits Photo : Des Fitzgerald
URL http://journals.openedition.org/terrain/docannexe/image/23415/img-1.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 50k
Haut de page

Pour citer cet article

Référence électronique

Des FITZGERALD, « A gigantic vertical zoo », Terrain [En ligne], 76 | mars 2022, mis en ligne le 03 mai 2022, consulté le 20 mai 2022. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/terrain/23415 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/terrain.23415

Haut de page

Auteur

Des FITZGERALD

Des Fitzgerald is Associate Professor of Sociology in the Wellcome Centre for Cultures and Environments of Health at the University of Exeter. His work is broadly within medical humanities and Science and Technology Studies, and is substantively concerned with the brain and mind sciences, the environment and green space, and architecture and urban planning. He is the author of Tracing Autism (University of Washington Press, 2017), Rethinking Interdisciplinarity (with Felicity Callard, Palgrave, 2015), and The Urban Brain (with Nikolas Rose, Princeton University Press, 2022).

Haut de page
  • Logo INSHS
  • Logo MSH Mondes
  • Logo Hauts-de-Seine
  • Logo Centre National du Livre
  • Logo Musée du quai Branly
  • Logo Université Paris Ouest
  • Logo FMSH-Diffusion
  • OpenEdition Journals
Rechercher dans OpenEdition Search

Vous allez être redirigé vers OpenEdition Search