Elements and composition of interior space

Elements and composition of interior space:

Plane: 

The plane is the most fundamental element of interior architecture. Essentially a two-dimensional form, it serves, when employed as floors, walls and ceilings, to enclose and define space. Smaller planar elements contribute doors, stairs and other interior elements such as shelves and furniture. As well as enclosing and modulating space, the plane becomes the carrier of the required material, texture and colour qualities of

the interior as well as, by absorption or reflection, controlling acoustic and lighting values.

The absence of a plane, or the perforation of one, may be used to direct attention to some other part of the site or interior as well as permitting physical movement and the passage of light, air and sound.The realities of construction mean that built planes have thickness. How much of that thickness is visible (or, indeed, whether it is accentuated for aesthetic purposes) is a judgement for the designer to make. In traditional architecture the massive materials employed ensure that, where visible, the edge of the plane will have substantial thickness; but the advent of new materials and processes permits slimmer structures and this slimness is often used as an expression of modernity. A building providing excellent illustration of the expressive use of planar structures is Schröder House. Designed by Gerrit Rietveld it reads, both inside and out, as a series of independent slim planar elements virtually hovering in space.

This seating environment for Thomas Cook Holidays uses plane elements to define space, separating one activity from another; the perforations give clues as to what lies behind the plane.

scale:

The term ‘scale’ has two meanings for the designer: the first involves a method of drawing buildings to reduce their real-life size to fit the piece of paper we are using. To do this we draw to scale – that is, we visually reduce every part of the design using a chosen ratio. If we are drawing something very large, a plan of the site for instance, we might use a ratio of 1:200 or 1:500, meaning that each thing we draw will be one two-hundredth or one five-hundredth of the size of the real thing. When drawing smaller things, details of cabinetwork perhaps, we may be able to draw things at 1:5 or even full size, while between those extremes, say when drawing the layout of a space, we might employ a scale of 1:50 or 1:100.

The second meaning of scale concerns the apparent size of something in relation to something else. Since the interior architect is usually concerned with providing space for human activity we use the size of a human as that ‘something else’ and in doing so are able to refer to ‘human scale’. If we perceive a space or an object as a comfortable fit with our own dimensions we are able to say that it has human scale.

This glazed elliptical ‘pavilion’ sits within a large, clear-span space. Rather like a building within a building it retains a form and function independent of the surrounding environment.

The atrium above allows natural light to filter down into the circulation areas of this large shopping complex.

Proportion:

Where scale describes the size of elements compared to some standard measure, proportion refers to the

dimensional relationship of the design elements – one to another or one to the whole. The human eye recognises the qualities of a space by its proportions in relation to its size. Low-ceilinged spaces of large plan areas will feel oppressive, when a smaller space of the same height might feel entirely comfortable. Very high

spaces, as found in cathedrals and important public buildings, can generate a sense of awe and elation. The relationship of plan area to height is important not just because of its spatial effect but because it is an important determinant of the ability of daylight to penetrate the space. It is frequently the case that the height required for the practical functioning of a space will not be sufficient to allow daylight to illuminate it properly: this is often observed in large open-plan offices where the limited floor-to-ceiling height limits daylight penetration and requires the use of permanent artificial lighting at a financial and environmental cost.

The importance of scale and proportion has been appreciated for millenia and has been the subject of much observation and theorising by architects, artists and thinkers anxious to discover and promote a universal system that would guarantee visual perfection in artifacts and buildings.

Vista:

The form of space is not simply defined by the requirements of one individual space. It is often the case that a number of spaces need to co-exist and that visual (and practical) links need to be incorporated between them and perhaps with the world outside. ‘Vistas’, a term borrowed from the vocabulary of the landscape designer, are devices often used to frame or extend the outlook from key viewpoints of grand houses and their grounds. The principle remains valid and is viable in buildings of all sizes and types. Indeed it could be argued that generating the illusion of space by creating a vista is one of the most valuable acts that a designer can undertake in a crowded urban environment. Such vistas may be part of a private internal world (the houses of Adolf Loos provide eloquent examples) or offer visual stimulus and opportunity within a public or semi-public domain (one thinks of railway termini and shopping malls). In each case the vista creates in the viewer a sense of possibility: a possibility that may be illusory or theatrical but which fulfils the desire for visual novelty and expansiveness. 

Related to vista is the contemporary interest in linking internal and external spaces. Historically, buildings and their settings have often had a carefully considered relationship, but one where the building was intended to be seen as backdrop to the garden, or the garden seen as backdrop to the building. The houses designed by Edwin Lutyens with gardens by Gertrude Jekyll epitomise this approach. Recently this concept has been expanded by bringing the garden into the house, the house into the garden; blurring the line between the ending of one and the beginning of the other and treating the external space as a ‘room’ in its own right, with hard floor and semi-permanent furniture. This tendency has been characterised by foldaway walls and innovative use of glass structures; the latter probably spurred by the extraordinary glazed house extension created by Rick Mather Architects in 1992 that used glass for both structure and envelope.

The glazed extension to the rear of this kitchen articulates a relationship with the existing building, and also enables the designer to explore the threshold between interior and exterior space. This relationship is further expressed through the continuity of materials.

The dining space to this house in Hampstead is an independent environment, which is visually connected to the adjacent room. This impacts on our perception of the volume of this space in that it seems larger than it really is, whilst nevertheless limiting its actual size.

Movement:

We have already mentioned vista, an essentially static promise of future possibility. But the interior architect

must not discount the potential of delight created by real movement through space. Routes within buildings may take many forms, but become especially interesting when they invoke all three dimensions. Stairs, ramps, escalators and lifts can all play their practical part in moving their users through space, but they can also simultaneously create possibilities of revelation and intrigue.The stairs may be considered the most common of the three devices, but the physical form of the staircase offers huge possibilities – both as a sculpture in its own right and as a device for linking or counterpointing forms and materials on consecutive levels. The materials of which stairs can be made are marvels in themselves; the glass staircases created by the Czech engineer and architect Eva Jiricna should be valued as some of the wonders of our age.

The horizontal and vertical circulation through this shopping mall is key to the form and successful functioning of a large space.

Escalators and lifts work slightly differently. Glass lifts,particularly those climbing the external façade, are no longer a novelty but still have a powerful appeal. In many ways the escalator provides a composite of the experience of lift, ramp and stair because of its self-propelled trajectory; but so often the form and materials of the device itself and the awkward transition between human and mechanical propulsion at the beginning and end of the journey are less than satisfactory. However, here too glass is playing an increasing role in diminishing the slab-sided aspect of the traditional installation so that one hopes that in the not-too-distant future the sculptural form will achieve the refinement that it deserves.

This staircase is not simply a functional device – it provides a strong sculptural focal point to the space.

Transition:

Of course much of the day-to-day movement in the buildings we use is from space to space, room to room, inside to outside. Pragmatically we only need a bit of corridor, or a doorway. But if we stop to consider

what might be achievable rather than what we need, the possibilities become more interesting. Any space

linking two others is a transitional preparation. This is not a negative space, but one capable of supporting its own character – an event in its own right. By thinking about the form, proportions, lighting and mood of that event we can make it a social space or an individual one, a portent of spaces to come or a reminder of things past. To do this we need to make decisions about the direction of travel and the sizes of openings. Should the user move directly or obliquely through the space?

Are doors necessary or could a screened opening achieve a more satisfactory result? Does opening a door provide the first, sudden, intimation of what is to come or does a carefully positioned aperture offer a preparatory hint? If a door is necessary is it something identifiably different from its surround, or is it an adjustable component of the wall that vanishes when closed and open and becomes an infinitely variable screen at positions in between? There are no predetermined answers to any of these questions; the potential solutions are answerable only to the context, the brief and the designer’s conceptual approach, but it is in the exploration of these ideas that we begin to identify the difference between the activities of ‘building’ and ‘interior architecture’.

Transient environments operate on the threshold between spaces. Corridors are typical of such environments and serve to link together the different areas of an interior. Although corridors may be defined as secondary spaces they play an important role in the narrative of any given building.

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