September 6th, 2024
Reflections on the Meaning of Place
When we speak of “a sense of place,” what does this mean? What is it exactly that we sense? How indeed do we sense a place – its nature, its character, its genius – and how can we make sense of that which we perceive with our senses? Are we able to articulate certain inherent attributes of “placeness”?
From these questions spring others: How does geography – topography, climate, vegetation, natural resources – confer collective and personal meaning on place? There is something intangible and atmospheric that one can sense in the earth and sky. Mountains, plains, oceans, rivers, vegetation – these geographical features are primary determinants of place-consciousness. Climate, too, is a principal source of place-impression. Its modulations by technological means are minutely local, constituting only small atmospheric modifications within a macro-environment that is much grander, less predictable, and more difficult to control. The duration and intensity of summer and winter, the character of vegetation, the levels of precipitation – these environmental givens form a vocabulary of seasonality that is a crucial part of our sense of place, which is why the weather is always newsworthy.
Both the natural and built environments contain spaces and structures of special significance. These are the power spots within the matrix of place. Certain kinds of architectural works created to mediate between the mundane and the divine spring to mind: ancient temples erected for honor and sacrifice; synagogues for worship and instruction; mosques serving as sites of purification, prayer, and preaching; Christian churches consecrated as sanctuaries for holy communion and ceremonies such as baptisms, marriages, and funerals. Equally important are the well-defined but unbuilt spaces that also serve as power spots – the town green, the market square, the public park. Such areas are the foci of urban space and serve as sites for mass assembly, celebration, and political protest. They also act as prominent nodes on one’s mental map of place.
We need to examine the role of history in conferring heightened meaning on certain places. Here we must observe how sites of victory, sacrifice, catastrophe, and shame become sacred through the human impulse to turn them into hallowed grounds. Think for a moment in this regard about the psychological and social significance of place with regard to battlefields such as Gettysburg, the Nazi concentration camps from the Second World War, the World Trade Center after the Twin Towers were destroyed by Al Qaeda terrorists in 2001.
As a corollary, let’s look at the way in which public art – the statue, the mural, the memorial – confers meaning on place. Hallowed ground, however, needs no plaque, monument, or other artifact to inspire reverence or awe. Consider the Parthenon on the Acropolis and the site of the original Temple of Athena, which was razed by the Persians in 480 BC. The Parthenon was not erected on the footprint of the older temple but is aligned with it a few yards to the south. Whether or not intended as such, the site’s vacancy, with only the foundation stones of fire-scorched marble forming an outline in the grass, is a moving memorial to this dire moment in Athenian history.
It goes without saying that place is political inasmuch as it is territorial. Continually contested, it is a primary source of enmity between family members, neighbors, and nations. Destroying the cultural symbols of place – its sacred forms and cherished traditions – is a form of aggressive humiliation. Even at the local level, alteration of place can be a source of intense debate and heated dispute. Challenges to zoning changes, landmark designations, or new developments are regular occurrences and participation in community planning board meetings, government agency hearings, and protest marches are common forms of civic activism.
Perhaps the most potent perceptions of place come from recollection, reverie, and dream – the province of poetry. These often take the form of images that appear as messengers from the distant land called childhood. Personal memories – particularly childhood memories – may enshrine a particular room, a house, a neighborhood, a city, a town, a geographical region, a homeland. Place is thus something we carry inside us.
We imprint ourselves on those places we inhabit, whether on a temporary, long-term, or permanent basis, and in the process place is something that is imprinted on us. The smallest acts of domesticating space – any kind of space – accomplishes this end. Even transients, prisoners, hotel guests, migrant workers, campers, and dormitory residents establish temporary forms of place ownership by furnishing a space with items of personal property. To punitively deny this kind of minimal creation of “home” is a form of identity theft.
Kinesthesia – bodily awareness – along with the perceptions afforded by those things we register with our five senses – eyes, ears, nostrils, palate, skin – reinforce the notion that we ourselves are place. Moreover, since we are not stationary beings, place can be the experience of moving through a sequence of scenes – a linear form of place.
Place and people are inseparable. We may commune with ourselves when we are alone, but always we perceive ourselves in relationship to places that are often populated with the faces, voices, and bodies of others. The words “family” and “familiar” have the same root; the sense of belonging to a particular place is born of the ties of blood, friendship, race, and class.
At the same time, place and nature are inseparable. The natural and the man-made world are seamless, and we are inextricably part of nature. We have been able to extract, distill, and refashion the elements of nature in innumerable ways for both good and ill. Our physical comfort and well-being, as well as well our capacity to do both heedless and calculated evil, are the result of this capacity. But it is arrogant to believe that human beings can dominate nature, which is a supreme force governing all life. In the end, we must obey nature, not the other way around.
Time is another important factor in our understanding of place. We need to recognize that only geographical coordinates persist and that place is eternally mutating. The making and remaking of cities through the addition, subtraction, or renovation of buildings, roads, bridges, parks, and other forms of infrastructure is the province of the urban planner, architect, and landscape designer. Unfortunately, the results of indifference to place are all around us. Anywhere is becoming increasingly like everywhere else, an outcome of consumer capitalism in which “brand” and “market” are commonly used as verbs and corporately run fast-food operations, hotels, stores, and service businesses create a ubiquitous sameness in which place has become delocalized and is nothing more than what is standard and familiar.
This is why, now more than ever, we need place makers, those who create and build in accord with nature and with dedication to craft and high artistic principles. This is why we also need place keepers, those who protect and preserve not only private domains but also the public commons – our parks, historic buildings, and other universally accessible spaces.
No matter whether enhanced by design, cherished because of familiarity, or degraded by indifference, place is ubiquitous. Wherever we are, we are forever inescapably in place. The question is: what kind of place? This begs the further question: what is the place you love most?
To borrow a cliché, home is where the heart is. Indeed, the word “home” is, next to the word “love,” probably the most resonant in the English language. Personally, I can think of a number of cherished places. But for me one does certainly stand out: Central Park. In the deepest sense it is home to me. Indeed, I never feel that I am back from any kind of extended stay somewhere else until I have taken a walk in the park. But right now I am in place, here in Chicago, in this room, sharing with all of you one of the most memorable moments of my life. That makes this a very special place indeed, one that I will carry inside me for the rest of my days.
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