THE WATERS OF ROME, A RESPONSE
In ancient China, the philosopher Lao Tzu once referred to the void within a cup as the essence of the cup. He observed that space was what made the vessel useful, and that the act of containment was what gave it meaning. This idea has since been applied to architecture; most notably by Frank Lloyd Wright, who used it to describe the true purpose of building – to contain human life.
Whether intentional or unintentional, architect, Katherine Rinne, pushes against this concept of architecture as space making in her lecture, Plumbing Rome. Her studies are not about walls or spaces, but about what is being contained within the cup, or in this case the city of Rome. While she examines the 3,000-year history of the city’s infrastructure and urban development, as well as conducts a survey of the extensive network of fountains, drains and pipes, Rinne’s investigation is ultimately about the living system that flows within them – water.
As director of the web-based research project, The Waters of the City of Rome, Rinne has tackled the task of mapping the hydraulic systems of Rome with meticulous, almost obsessive, attention to detail. The focus of her investigation seemingly encompassed any and everything that could possibly have to do with the theme of water: springs, rivers, aqueducts, fountains, drinking spouts, toilets, drains, pipes, flood markers, dog fountains etc. In addition, her four-month sojourn through the streets of Rome, identifying the origin, containment, flow and distribution of water, produced an incredible amount of data on the city’s infrastructure and development, gleaned from personal observations, critical readings, analytical studies and archival research. However (perhaps fortuitously) the results of her study remain fairly open-ended.
In her lecture, Rinne presented several interesting findings, and theories of her own, but she was also quick to emphasize that the ultimate goal of the project was to create a foundation of evidence upon which other scholars and professionals could establish their own work. Rinne refers to water as the life source of the city, providing both physical and spiritual nourishment to the body and the senses. She also highlights some of the connections that can be made between the readily visible urban layout of the city and the harder to discern flow of water. Aside from a few teasing glimpses into possible research topics, Rinne holds back on offering too many concrete suggestions about how to apply her study. In the end, it is exactly this freedom to interpret, which her project fosters, that makes it so significant.
Rinne intends for her project to be used as a design tool for students and professionals in the field of architecture, but the study also opens doors for scholars in other fields such as civil engineering, geoscience and history, just to name a few. Research in these other fields could possibly include a socio-political study of class hierarchies that governed water circulation, an economic study of water as commodity, or a mechanical study of hydrodynamics. The straightforward presentation of her study lends itself to multiple interpretations; the GIS data mapping, especially, allows users to easily assess her findings and reach their own conclusions.
One of the most interesting facets of the Waters project is the development of a complex narrative structure that interweaves the story of water, with the cultural, political and social histories of the city. Not only does Rinne’s project help redefine our understanding of urban landscapes, but it also serves to expand the scope of architectural inquiry beyond the study of material structures and spaces. In this instance, it is not the physical form that defines the cup, nor is it the space within. Rather, the value of the cup is determined by what it contains. In the case of Rinne, this would be the water that runs through Rome, bringing together various narratives of the city, giving life and meaning to its built environment.
