The Eye's Dominion: Visual Tyranny in Architecture
How Visual Bias is Diminishing Our Full Experience of Space
Architecture at its core is a reflection of our existence. It grounds us, not just in space, but in time, memory, and emotion. Through its walls, shadows, and textures, architecture anchors us to reality, creating an unspoken dialogue between the built environment and the human soul. Yet, in an age dominated by screens and cameras, we have become more focused on capturing spaces than truly experiencing them. Our gaze has narrowed, confined to the frame of a lens, leaving the act of experiencing architecture untouched.
Architecture is not merely something to be seen; it is something to be lived in and absorbed, it demands to be felt. Our bodily senses - sight, touch, hearing - engage with spaces in ways that technological extensions cannot replicate. The walls that enclose us are not passive structures, they breathe, resonate, whisper stories of time and place. In these interactions, we find effices of our own existence. It grounds our sense of reality and lends us back to our interaction with the spaces.
The act of experiencing is existential. It mirrors the human conditions - fragile, temporal, yet capable of profound beauty and meaning. With every building we enter, it becomes an extension of ourselves, “we lend our emotions and associations to the space and the space lends us it's atmosphere, which entices and emancipates our perceptions and thoughts,” it holds the weight of our memories, our fleeting thoughts, our silent moments of introspection. And in turn, we shape and reshape its meaning through the act of inhabiting it.
As we move through space, it becomes clear that architecture is more than visual experience. The way it surrounds us, the way light and shadow play, how the air feels against our skin - these are the elements that connect us, reminding us of the fleeting nature of existence.
In its quietest moments, architecture allows us to confront the deeper questions of being: what is our place within this vast world? How do we shape the spaces around us, and how do they, in turn, shape us?
It is through these sensory dialogues that architecture transcends the material and becomes a metaphor for human existence - fragile, layered, and full of untapped depth. In its presence, we are reminded that to truly experience the world, we must engage with it fully, not only through sight but through the entirety of our being.
But our cultural bias has grounded itself in prioritising vision over other senses. Ocularcentrism has prevailed since ancient philosophy days. Our sense of perception is built upon the Western culture, where sight has been regarded as the highest degree within our senses. “The eyes are more exact witness than the ears”, quotes Heraclitus. Aristotle likewise considered sight as the most noble of the senses because it proximates vision to knowledge.
Translation of the Western thought can be found in Modernist architects as well. When Le Corbusier said: “I exist in life only if I can see,” and when he argued “to open our eyes,” we sense a philosophical and artistic provocation to regard the privilege of sight as a dominating figure in our experience of spaces, questionably defining the architecture of the eye.
“Architecture is a plastic thing. I mean by plastic what is seen and measured by the eyes.”
- Le Corbusier
Persistence of architecture for the eyes is consistent in modern architecture. Mies van der Rohe intricately dissects our perspectival vision into axial geometry and consistent lines, deeply rooting spatiality and ocularcentrism.
Ocularcentrism is the philosophical and cultural bias that places vision over other senses as the primary means of understanding and interacting with the world. It reflects the dominance of sight in shaping human perception, knowledge, and experience.
In architecture and other fields, ocularcentrism results in over emphasis on visual aesthetics, often neglecting the multi-sensory experience and aspects of spaces or objects that are essential for a fuller, more embodied experience.
On an individual level, this ocular bias alienates our spatial experiences, creating a sensory reductivism that affects an individual through a prevailing cultural norm or dogma.
This ocular bias restricts our ability to fully experience a space because it reduces architecture to a visual spectacle, turning into something we primarily look at rather than inhabit. By prioritising sight over other senses, spaces become more abstract, flat, and disconnected from the body. This emphasis on the visual alone can alienate a human being by stripping away the tactile, auditory, and olfactory dimensions of spatial elements that are crucial for creating a sense of belonging, warmth, and intimacy.
The human mind is a curious being, which seeks to question and evolve with its constant findings, designed to navigate and interact with the world through a complex blend of sensory inputs, loses the richness of spatial experiences and becomes a mere spectator.
In the field of architecture, the dominance of the visual - the ocular bias - has created a profound sensory imbalance, alienating us from the rich, multi-sensory experience that buildings are meant to provide. This focus on visual aesthetics, particularly in architectural renderings and designs has contributed to a detachment from the physicality, materiality, and spatial engagement that form the true essence of architectural experience.
Contemporary architecture, influenced heavily by the proliferation of digital media and visual culture, increasingly prioritises sleek, minimalist designs, largely experienced through the lens of renderings, photos, and visual representations. While these images can be powerful tools for communicating ideas, they often lead to an impoverished architectural experience by neglecting the multi-sensory dimensions that make spaces meaningful and enriching.
The rise of visual dominance can be traced to architectural competitions and presentations, where a building's value is judged primarily on the basis of how it is represented visually. Architectural renderings, with their glossy, hyper realistic aesthetics are tailored to seduce the eye, promising an experience of clarity, elegance, and modernity. But these images tell only a fraction of the story, only a part of the space and not the whole. The viewer is alienated from the tactile reality of the materials, the acoustic properties of the space, the temperature variations, the movement of light and shadows over time, and the olfactory atmosphere that contributes to the overall character of the building.
When buildings are designed with such a visual-first approach, the architecture often becomes more about spectacle than substance.
The prioritisation of appearance over experience, leads to spaces that are emotionally cold and distant. They may look striking in photographs, but in reality, they fail to engage their inhabitants on a deeper sensory level. The smooth, sterile surfaces that characterise much of modern architecture - glass, steel, and concrete - may create visually clean lines, but they lack the textures that invite touch, the warm that evokes comfort, or the ageing of a material that makes it more human.
This visual obsession creates a disconnect between architecture and its users. The building becomes objects to be observed rather than designed to be consumed through photographs, social media posts, or magazines. In this way, architecture becomes part of the broader commodification of visual culture, where the primary value of a space lies in its imageability, its ability to be captured and circulated in a visual format.
Moreover, the reproduction of architectural images strips away the layers of meaning that come from understanding a space in its original context - its geographical location, its cultural significance, its relationship with its surroundings, and its purpose within a community.
As Walter Benjamin argued in ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,’ the more an image is reproduction, the more it loses its ‘aura’ - the unique presence and authenticity of the original. In architecture, this means that buildings, when reduced to images, lose their connection to the human narratives and environmental conditions that give them life. The overexposure to visual representations turn architecture into a globalised, placeless phenomenon of homogenisation, devoid of its specific material and cultural roots.
Similarly, John Berger, in his influential work ‘Ways of Seeing,’ expands upon the idea by suggesting that our constant exposure to reproduced images distances us from the authentic experience of the original work. This manifests in how we consume buildings primarily through their visual representations, leading to a detachment from the lived experience of the space. As we scroll through endless feeds of architectural renderings and photographs, we are engaging with architecture as spectators, and not as participants.
In the age of modern architecture, ocular bias leads to a detachment from reality, as buildings become visual objects rather than lived spaces. This imbalance has far-reaching implications, not only for how we experience architecture but also for how we relate to the environments we inhabit. By neglecting the sensory and emotional dimensions of architecture, ocular bias assisted with modern day render fosters a built environment into a visual spectacle.
The constant flood of hyper-realistic images and renders leaves little space for our imagination to wander. The crisp clarity of these visuals locks us into a predetermined outcome, restricting the freedom to envision alternative possibilities. As a result, the creative potential of our imagination is stifled, leaving little room for personal interpretation or playful exploration of the spaces depicted.
Gaston Bachelard emphasised the importance of imagination and peaceful dreaming in how we inhabit spaces, yet contemporary architecture seems to be losing this essence. Ocularcentric design, with its focus on the visual, limits our ability to dream freely within spaces. Instead, the homogenising brightness and rigid geometries of modern architecture shape our thoughts, rather than allowing our thoughts to shape the space. The result is a sterile environment that stifles creativity and diminishes the emotional richness of spatial experience.
I am not opposing technological advancements like Unreal Engine and Unity, nor their role in architectural design. Rather, I advocate for a more human-centred approach to how we integrate these tools. As we embrace these innovations, we must remain mindful of their impact on the way we experience space, ensuring they enhance rather than diminish the depth and richness of our sensory engagement with architecture.
If we are to counteract this growing detachment, architecture must begin to re-embrace its full sensory potential. It must become more than an object of the eye, reclaiming its role as an immersive, multi-sensory experience that grounds us in the present and reconnects us with the spaces we live in.
We are a minute to midnight from revolutionising completely how we experience spaces.