Levels of Engagement: Part 2
One week on, last week’s topic of how the space for work should relate to the greater world was probably too ambitious. The range of things people are paid to do is simply too large, even if many of them may look the same as we sit at our desks and look at our screens. While pondering how to phrase something, a writer such as Michael Pollan may stare idly at the garden from the window of “writing house” in the header image. I think he might even have written a book about getting it built. Yes.
It seems that, when writing – or thinking about what or how to write it – he likes solitude but an awareness of the world outside. While putting together a lecture, an instructor in an office might be swapping between Powerpoint, a browser and some downloaded references, while leaving the office door ajar at degrees indicating how much an interruption is welcome. A financial trader may be 100% focussed on various onscreen indices in order to buy or sell at the right time. It’s anybody’s guess how much any of these people are able to block out their environments to achieve this thing called focus. We don’t know much about this thing called focus but we link it to performing tasks better, and see it as the opposite of diversion and distraction.
I was curious about what kind of space people think enhances their focus if all other factors were equal but I first needed to discount the nature of the work as much as possible. The Thursday after a week-long run of national holidays probably wasn’t the best time to conduct a quick survey of where students choose to sit in the library but, if a student is sitting at a desk in a library then, chances are, they’re writing an essay or doing an assignment, or putting together a presentation. There’s still variation in the nature of the tasks, but less of it. The Wenzhou-Kean University’s library is called the Student Learning and Activity Centre and levels B1 and 1 are general study and activity spaces. Part of Level 1 is double-height so the library proper is on levels 3–6.
I found the preference wasn’t for total isolation. The library has single-person booths wired, illuminated, acoustically isolated and scattered around the library but none were being used. Perhaps having one’s back to a glass door makes people uneasy. Only one of the four-person booths designed for group work was occupied, but only by one person.
Because my informal survey was conducted between holidays, I wasn’t surprised to see these rest areas unoccupied. I can understand why a library would want to offer a variety of seating choices but I’d feel a bit self-conscious in the self-aware “relaxation” space and to a lesser extent the “comforting” chairs. Maybe the beanbags are too half-hearted and the bubble chairs not “fun” enough. Neither are laptop friendly which is probably more to the point.
This space is always the most peopled. It’s a double-height space on levels B1–1. It’s well lit and there’s no through traffic. From what I could tell, students were there to work. The individual booths next to the window were all occupied. There seemed to be a sense of common purpose. I call this group of people the “social” people because it seemed important for everyone to be doing the same thing in the same place. Having said that, there were limits to this sociability as each of the four-person tables was claimed by one person. I only just learned it was open 24-7 as it’s separate from the library.
Another popular area was this space at ground level – Level 1. It’s the upper level of the learning and activity space that’s open 24–7 unlike the library that’s 8am –10pm. Few people pass through this space because an entrance at one end leads to stairs down or to the large “social stair” going up, while another entrance at the other end leads to the elevators. To the left of the desks in the first image is a three-storey high space and to the right is a double-height one. I can see why some people like sitting in either of these two spaces because one can sense people moving around and feel part of something greater because of the presence of the large spaces adjacent. I’ve never seen anyone at the desks in a 4th-floor space in the library (the photo on the right) that has a similar relationship to its adjacent four-story void. This is counter to my theory of a preference for the adjacency of large spaces. I can’t account for it. It might be the acoustics. Maybe it’s the wrong sort of people passing by? Maybe nobody likes that colour green? Perhaps if one person sat there then others might follow? It’s a bit like choosing a restaurant. Nobody wants to test the one that doesn’t have a queue outside it.
These mavericks studying alone on the social stair on two separate days were exceptions – although it’s weird they both chose the same table. There attractor didn’t seem to be view as there are many better options, but the only other thing I could think of was the volume of surrounding unoccupied space. (You’d think a large space like this would have appealing acoustics and maybe they do but, on the first day, some metallic fixture was undergoing maintenance the next level up.) Despite the number of tables, this is a space for only one person. It’s a bit like Australians walking on to the next beach because the present beach is occupied by one person. I get that. Studying seems to be a solitary activity but conducted to varying degrees in the presence of other people.
Some people prioritized seating comfort and perhaps gravitated to these spaces because the seating was more comfortable.
Areas such as this next one filled up with one person per four seats. I suspect these people just wanted a place to study that was reasonably quiet, had good illumination and a rather neutral ambience. A bit like being on a bus, people were reluctant to share a desk with strangers and were more likely to search for an empty desk for four and sit with their back to someone doing the same.
Spaces that had been designed to fit somebody’s idea of what a good study space should be, were all un- or under-occupied. If I had to think about what they had in common, I’d say they were all somehow performative in the sense of being stage sets at which people can play the part of students studying. The somewhat Harry Potter-ish reading room was empty. Interestingly, where students chose to sit didn’t seem to have any relationship to what books were on the nearby shelves. I saw nobody getting up to browse the shelves and then take a few books back to where they were sitting. The section with the architecture books was unoccupied but I have on occasion, sat at one of those tables thumbing through a book while deciding if I wanted to take it out. The window seats facing the mountain were shunned.
This was the only person I (lower, left) I saw who chose a place for its view despite there being many positions with tables or desks facing the windows and mountain beyond. This was an extreme position, open to everything yet no chance of anyone passing by. From the fourth floor, this is one of the few positions from where it is possible to see people walking in the direction of the dining hall and the dormitories. I like the fact that the guy on the right is using the study space for something for which it wasn’t designed. Somewhat surprisingly, as it was only about 10am.
I think I’m like the guy stretching in the corner by the window. I like to be able to see people but not necessarily close enough to have to listen to them. Just seeing them is sufficient to stop any feelings of isolation. I enjoyed living in Dubai, looking across at The World or down to Sheikh Zayed Road below from my environmentally and acoustically insulated shelf on the 45th floor. It was a peaceful and productive space. I’m inclined to go back to my theory of the adjacency of a large space being conducive to creating the focus needed for (certain types of) work. When working, a physically adjacency void is a one-way visual threshold to the world outside that can be observed or ignored at will.
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