This research explores the spatial practices of male prostitutes meeting gay male clients in various urban environments in Bangkok, Thailand. The research focuses on the male prostitutes’ spatial practices in three meeting places: the streets around Saranrom park, the gay go-go bars in Surawong’s Boys’ Town, and the representations of space in local gay newsletters. Examining the male prostitutes’ spatial practices through ‘tactics’, this research suggests that male prostitutes use the meeting places differently as ways of responding to the ‘strategies’ of gay male clients. This research also suggests that the tactics of male prostitutes can be examined by exploring the relationship between spatial practices and subjectivities. By exploring how specific performative acts constitute male prostitutes’ subjectivities, this research suggests that male prostitutes ‘perform’ homosexuality. This thesis draws upon Judith Butler’s performativity theory as a discursive mode of constituting subjects and Michel de Certeau’s theoretical discussion, specifically spatial practices of ‘strategies’ and ‘tactics’, as a means of differentiating between ‘place’ and ‘space’. Methodologically, this research works in two directions: the first explores how the spatial practices of male prostitution produce ‘gay’ subjectivities in the moment of sexual encounter – arguing that male prostitutes actively reposition themselves as ‘subjects’ rather than ‘objects’ through spatial and sexual practices; and the second examines the social and sexual constitution of space – arguing that ‘places’ are produced as ‘spaces’ through the practices and tactics of male prostitutes. This research aims to make an original contribution to knowledge in four main ways. The first is an exploration of the relationship between de Certeau’s spatial theory of ‘tactics’ and Butler’s concept of ‘performativity’ as a constitution of subjectivity. The second is the use of de Certeau and Butler’s theories to explore three spaces of male prostitution in contemporary Bangkok, Thailand, through observations drawn from interviews, accounts of spatial experience, and discussions of various representations of space. The third is a reconsideration of these theories of performativity and spatial practices in the light of the specific conditions of the case studies in Bangkok. The fourth is the production of new forms of cross-disciplinary knowledge to bring this discussion of tactics, performativity and gay subjectivities in streets, go-go bars and magazines into architectural history and theory, thereby producing new ways of understanding how spaces are produced through encounters and looks.

Thesis (Ph. D.)--University of Hong Kong, 1974. / Computer data sheets in boxes.

The conversion of the convent of San Francisco into a school of architecture in Havana, comes out of my omnipresent desire to work with old structures, my faith in architectural education, and my love for he city in which I was born. My intention was to propose an alternative to conventional restoration and preservation. From the mutilated body of the convent, and the seed of education planted by the monks the new school sprung. The memory of the lost limbs, still present in the city, began to materialize slowly, letting the old structure breathe again. / Master of Architecture

acase@tulane.edu

The thesis begins with a notion to design a school of architecture in Saskatchewan. The context, at first, appears overwhelmingly basic: an agricultural grid superimposed on a horizontal plain, under an endless sky. This formulaic description cannot capture what it is to experience the place. Stemming from this archetypal divide between earth and sky, the character of the prairies develops through a series of pairs. Each four-part section begins by setting up a polarity; on one side, a grid, and on the other, a ghost. The intersection of these two elements is illustrated through an interface and a segment of time. With each added layer, the polarities become increasingly entwined. The school of architecture is located, conceptually, in this space of reciprocity. The physical site is an industrial wasteland near the centre of Saskatoon, bounded on the east and west sides by two sets of train tracks. A timber and masonry warehouse, constructed for the John Deere Plow Company in 1910, is located along the end of the spur line to the east. The school of architecture finds itself within this building. The view down the tracks provides a glimpse of the prairie fields; the nondescript site itself alludes to this Deleuzian smooth space beyond the city limits. Even as it precisely situates and contains itself in this physical urban context, the school of architecture internalizes the dream of the prairie landscape. It is an educational institution and an incubator for the architectural imagination.

The thesis begins with a notion to design a school of architecture in Saskatchewan. The context, at first, appears overwhelmingly basic: an agricultural grid superimposed on a horizontal plain, under an endless sky. This formulaic description cannot capture what it is to experience the place. Stemming from this archetypal divide between earth and sky, the character of the prairies develops through a series of pairs. Each four-part section begins by setting up a polarity; on one side, a grid, and on the other, a ghost. The intersection of these two elements is illustrated through an interface and a segment of time. With each added layer, the polarities become increasingly entwined. The school of architecture is located, conceptually, in this space of reciprocity. The physical site is an industrial wasteland near the centre of Saskatoon, bounded on the east and west sides by two sets of train tracks. A timber and masonry warehouse, constructed for the John Deere Plow Company in 1910, is located along the end of the spur line to the east. The school of architecture finds itself within this building. The view down the tracks provides a glimpse of the prairie fields; the nondescript site itself alludes to this Deleuzian smooth space beyond the city limits. Even as it precisely situates and contains itself in this physical urban context, the school of architecture internalizes the dream of the prairie landscape. It is an educational institution and an incubator for the architectural imagination.

After the fire accident, KTH school of architecture is no longer in its best performance. The school indeed need an extension. However, through out this thesis project, I attempt to take one step further. It is not only to construct a functional school, but reconsider the meaning of architectural education. I am interested in three aspects, which all of them has being driving forces to this project. Firstly, I was interested in memory of the old architecture school in Stockholm, which was accommodated in a 19th centry wooden building. It was old and small, but students loved it. One’s memory of certain places would shape his thinking and values as an architect. Therefore, my design attempts to bring back such a memory by study some of the details in the old building and bring them back into the new extension with a twist. Secondly, in terms of working method I am very much resisted to ‘Graphic Architecture’, models always come together with rending images. They are offered to read side by side. The rending images are not trying to present the final products but also used as a development tool. Overall this project was developed from the inside towards the outside. The aim was to make an ordinary building with some thoughtful touches.

Following World War II, across the board, veterans and their families took advantage of the provisions of the GI Bill and moved to newly constructed, “modern” suburbs. These developments were often built out overnight and contained a few repeated floor plans throughout entire neighborhoods of mass-produced housing. Suburban populations were demographically singular, home to exclusively the white middle class. As a result of this mass migration away from urban cores, the postwar suburban lifestyle pervaded common consciousness and became synonymous with the “American Dream.” However, over a half-century later, economic, demographic and cultural circumstances today require a critical look at suburbia’s place in the future. Today, suburbia is no longer home to exclusively white middle class nuclear families. Rather, many suburban pioneers remain in their homes and the population is concentrated with single elderly people. In addition, minority and immigrant populations are on the rise. Lastly, poverty rates in suburbs are currently higher than their urban counterparts. However, despite this demographic diversity, housing options remain uniform. Coupled with the economic realities of the mortgage and foreclosure crises, postwar suburban housing types are not only disconnected from demographic trends, but also unaffordable. While suburbs cannot adequately serve current needs, they do account for over half of the nations housing stock. In light of long waiting lists for affordable housing, we are forced to address how what we already have can be modified rather than destroyed. First-ring suburbs along transit lines have been targeted by policy research as promising regions for redevelopment. As a result of their existing infrastructure and close proximity to metropolitan centers, first ring suburbs have the potential to prosper once again. This study explores the implications of policy both in terms of current conditions as well as the potentials of legislation to drive future redevelopment efforts. Park Forest, Illinois is located outside Chicago in Cook County along existing Metra train lines. Often cited as the first “GI suburb,” the town was a model for post-war developers. Today, it suffers from high foreclosure rates and a degree of sprawl. The proposed architectural thesis utilizes a prototypical suburban block to test multiple options for diversifying housing stock. These interventions implicitly critique current practices and intend to spark a new paradigm in future development. / acase@tulane.edu

Between 1960 and 2000, Detroit experienced a 43% population drop. Of Detroit’s 138 square miles, 20 are reported to be vacant. Yet the city is more populous and more dense than Memphis, Denver, Portland, or Atlanta. How can Detroit’s abundant available land and buildings be transformed into an asset that serves the over 700,000 residents of the city? How does vacant landscape become productive, enabling Detroit to “right-size” without resident relocation and additional urban erasure? Built in 1903 by Albert Kahn for the Packard Automotive Company, the Packard Plant is a Detroit landmark. Kahn, “The Builder of Detroit,” revolutionized American industrial design with Packard #10. Now, the plant is famous for being one of the world’s largest ruins and the adjacent neighborhood nearly vacant. Packard Farms is an adaptive reuse project that utilizes vacancy at the ground level for bioremediation and fuel crops while using vertical farming techniques within the building. Packard Farms capitalizes on Michigan green energy initiaties and the growing urban farming movement to create a largely self-sustaining building and community. / acase@tulane.edu

acase@tulane.edu