The idea of the labyrinth is predicated on the notion of finding oneself through the process of losing oneself. The medieval city embodies the labyrinth by virtue of its bottom up methodology. Its resulting urbanism exhibits a level of complexity that contrasts greatly to the strategies employed by the industrialised minds of the 19th and 20th centuries who sought to restore 'order' and 'rationality' to the urban landscape. The grid, the radial plan, and the top down urban systems forever altered how one operated and navigated the urban environment, significantly impacting the urban ecology and its culture. Today we are seeing a similar transformation albeit by much more subversive and intangible means: through a digital medium.

We are living in an age composed of two worlds: one physical and the other digital. While the physical world is bound by space and time, the digital world transcends them. We experience the physical world through our perceptions and our senses, but we also do so through a superimposed digital urban landscape. This has profoundly transformed the urban experience and society as a whole, accelerating globalization by collapsing distances and altering the way we operate within the urban environment. The digital network shares the bottom up methodology with the medieval city, allowing one to lose oneself in its labyrinth of information.

Venice is the city of wandering; a city Le Corbusier once noted as the precise product of human dimensions. Here I have focused my attention on pedestrian flows through the serpentine streets, the activity in the campi and fondamente, and the relationship between the built medieval structures and the quotidian. While Paris and Berlin¹ are comparable in terms of population size, the relationship the people have to their city and its historical context is decidedly different. Baron Haussmann tore through the medieval centre of Paris paving the way for the 'Capital of the 19th century'. Berlin, having been destroyed by the Second World War is a new city, one that had to be built without looking to the past for inspiration. All three cities exhibit unique social and cultural conditions regarding their own historic urban landscape.

Le Corbusier, the designer of the modernist cities of La ville radieuse and La ville contemporaine once commented, "Venice is the precise product of true human dimensions". While the world adopted the motorcar and industrialisation, Venice, the Gothic mercantile city, surrounded by water on small islands, functionally could not. Ernst Bloch likened the city to a stone sailing ship, having, "decks made of bridges and calli, where the noise of cars, left behind on Terraferma, never penetrated ... the silence of Venice is deeper than an uninhabited landscape ... Silence puts life into Venice again and again"². It is interesting that the urban designer of 'the garden city', of one that felt our nostalgia of the past should be severed should have such a respect for a city such as Venice. The Futurists feared the labyrinth of Venice, and wished only to raze it to the ground. For them, the world needed to be "liberated from the tyranny of sentimentalism", "rotten old Venice was tarnished with Romanticism". The radical industrial minds of the early 20th century wrote on their intentions: "What we want now is that the electric streetlamps, with their thousand stabbing points, slice into and violently tear apart your mysterious darkness , which is so bewitching and persuasive". While the Futurists argued Venice to be city lost in the past - barbaric and poorly functioning as a modern metropolis (much like the notions of it in Renaissance Italy) - Le Corbusier, man of the Machine Age saw quite the opposite: 'Venice, because of its foundation on water represents the most formal machinery, the most exact functioning, the most incontrovertible truth - a city which in its unity, is unique in the world ... made of a collaboration of everyone". (Plant 2002, 292.) What the Futurists argued for rejected what made the city work, the 'bewitching and persuasive nature' of the labyrinth created the "supremacy of the pedestrian". While many in the 20th century saw Venice as the antithesis to modernity, they all agreed on its "erotic charge... its sweet slavery", the result of the working labyrinth.

In the labyrinth of Venice today 'lies the insidious problem of orientation'; while the city can be seen as near impossible to navigate for the first-time user, a system of signposts in the city would only damage it. The users of Venice are differentiated from other cities by their habit and need: the flows through the city - which are almost exclusively pedestrian - have different aims whether tourist, resident or work. The pedestrian of Venice defines the city atmosphere, with his ability to create his own atmosphere within the urban spaces. "It is not the frenetic pace of motor traffic, but the apparently relaxed art of walking." (Marzo, VivereVenezia 2004, 17-19) The 'art of walking' from any point in the city is circuitous, indirect and full of opportunity for alternatives and uncertainties. For the user of Venice, orientation and direction become irrelevant, for one truly has to immerse oneself into the urban landscape to operate within the city. One begins to develop a pattern of memory cues, personal experiences, which assist the journey from 'A' to 'B', thus, the relationship between the user and the city becomes very close. For the pedestrian, the labyrinth of Venice provides an almost intoxicating experience of mystery and discovery, whereby the user can apply his knowledge of the city to recreate desired environments by choosing from an almost infinite variety of paths.

Upon reading the drawing to the left we begin to get the sense that the most direct path through the labyrinth of Venice becomes lost within the density of the city. The path, which is in fact serpentine and narrow, crosses the sestiere via the fondamente and campi, in essence the centres of the hundreds of neighbourhoods that make up Venice. One cannot traverse the city more than once without developing an individual map within the mind, of memory aids. Thus the direct route becomes more complex, but also more imaginative.

Paris represents the constant struggle between the individual and the authority, and as a result the labyrinth of Paris has become quite different from the timeless Venetian one. In Paris, the labyrinth of the medieval quarters have been torn through by and adapted to centuries of development. The city was noted rather sardonically by Walter Benjamin as 'the capital of the 19th century' the city of Modern thought and transformation. While Venice has always been constrained by its natural geography; rulers, planners and theorists have torn down huge sections of Paris, sliced through the labyrinth to create what was seen as progression, order and space for the promenade of daily routine. The grands boulevards of Paris were seen as the "technical necessities ennobled by artistic aims ... Haussmann efficiency integrated with Napoleonic idealism". The boulevards were 'draped in canvas and unveiled' just as the monuments scattered through the city were, Haussmann had become the "artist in demolition" transforming the city of Paris into an idealist landscape of the bourgeoisie. The proletariat were pushed out into the suburbs thus 'transfiguring' the milieu into an artificial zone of tranquillity and, as a result, Haussmann had 'estranged Parisians from their own city'. But it was the strong sense of individuality the citizens had that saved the city from egotistical idealism, the sense of individuality that made its mark throughout the remaining quartiers, displaced by the boulevard. "The fabric, humble as it may be, is still more extensive than the obvious bourgeois monuments - and harder to think away"(Benjamin 2002, 160). Speaking of the medieval streetscape, Françoise Choay observed that:

"The buildings and the streets are inseparable; they define each other. The elements of such a street - roadway, pedestrian way and flanked buildings - exist interdependently with one another. Because of their well-defined characteristics of felt volume and their interdependent mix of elements and functions, these streets tend to act both literally and metaphorically as exterior rooms in the city."

While the boulevards ripped through the city's quartiers, the urban gesture in fact created a new condition; the medieval districts became preserved within the context of the new Haussmann physiognomies. These ilots today create a social friction as the pedestrian moves through the city, between dense medieval rues and passages, out into the great open boulevards of the Enlightenment. Herein lies the labyrinth of Paris, it is one that has been broken up and scattered across the city, and together, they adapt to the changing urban gestures forced upon Paris.

The figure field map of Paris misses out on an important factor supporting the vibrancy of the ilots and the spaces of public claim. While the grands boulevards suggest long, linear routes that cross the city; narrow, labyrinthine spaces support the ilots, through passages, archways and courtyard paths. In figure field maps of Paris, we only reach a sense of 'visually connected spaces', which incorrectly suggest Paris to be a city of experiences that exist solely along the boulevards.

"The space of public claim is not uniquely bounded by buildings since it often extends into them; nor by ownership, since private space can be publicly accessible, and publicly owned space can be withheld; nor by the limits of physical access since visually accessible spaces can be important elements in the form, activity and significance of streets."

The dérives outlined by Guy Débord in the 1950's sought to free society from the notion of a prescribed use of the city, and instead find an individual landscape inspired by the imagination of the individual. The Situationists rejected traditional map making, and proposed new experiential maps, much like the cognitive maps of the medieval, "Other means, such as the reading of aerial views and plans, the study of statistics, graphs or the results of sociological investigations, are theoretical and do not possess the active and direct side which belongs to the experimental dérive". The opportunities for successful spaces could thus be found through observation and exploration, filling in the missing layers of Paris's maps. What was found through the studies of the flâneur, was that the widest, most direct routes through the city weren't necessarily the most active ones.

New Babylon is the Utopian labyrinth of the individual, never limited and always adapting and growing. The regal character, Aschenbach in Mann's Death in Venice finds himself "too occupied with the tasks set for him … to undisposed to diversions to be a proper admirer of the colourful outside world".9 Constant Nieuwenhuys wished for society to be free from the shackles of political and social obligation, a society of interweaving independent individuals driven by person desire. A 'New Babylon' was envisaged: an enormous structure which sought to tackle the modern crises of social decline and overwhelming urbanism:

"As the world turns into a single vast city, and an exploding, increasingly mobile population has less and less room to move, a new relationship between space and psychology is needed: what we lose in geometric space, we must recover in the form of psychological space."

Constant's New Babylon is an enormous structure floating above the ground on columns; a vast interior space 'artificially lit and air-conditioned'. The inhabitants are given access to "powerful ambiance creating resources to construct their own spaces wherever and whenever they desire" (Wigley 1998, 9-10). Moveable methods of pedestrian circulation are used to construct "veritable labyrinths of the most heterogeneous forms in which desires continuously interact." New Babylon becomes the pure psychogeographical city, one that adapts to the "exploding [and] increasingly mobile population", transferring lost geometric space to "psychological space".

Industrialism had become the dominant force driving social and urban thought at the turn of the 20th century. The Futurists attacked the unique and independent spirit of Venice, for it was seen as: "a magnificent carbuncle from the past stupefied by sickening spinelessness ... We'll set fire to the gondolas, rocking chairs for the cretins and we'll raise up to the skies the imposing geometry of metal bridges and factories plumed with smoke so as to abolish the drooping curves of its ancient architecture" (Marinetti 2006, 165). But for Constant, individuality was lost in such an industrialised society. He believed that the survival of humanity depended on the individual, "The modern city is a thinly disguised mechanism for extracting productivity out of its inhabitants, a huge machine that destroys the very life it is meant to foster" (Wigley 1998, 9). New Babylon did not reject technology, nor the importance scientific thought had on society, for him, the machine would exist only to support a flexible atmosphere for its inhabitants who are free to carry out their lives independently.

The tower of Babel was the manifestation of the human desire to break away from the natural order, a collective human push for independence over governing forces. New Babylon cannot be seen as an image of the future, but rather, the revolutionary social change that could be brought about in our cities with a new focus on the psychological qualities our landscapes have, "The visible order of the city harbours a psychological order that can be explored and would be revolutionary if exploited … The seemingly ephemeral is mobilised as the aspect of concrete struggle" (Wigley 1998, 13). The lesson that must be learned from the study of New Babylon is that "instead of producing new atmosphere with architecture, atmosphere will produce new architecture". The imagination of the individual, and thus the collective imagination of the city is what creates the successful labyrinth. New Babylon offers endless possibilities for the individual, inspiring an imagination lost in the herded society of modernity.

New Babylon was predicated on a new world order, a revolutionised society that could free itself from the burdens of laws and controlled order. In the most ideal, an atmospheric architecture would be created by creative, free thinking citizens. This architecture of the intimate is not a new concept :

When the free, nomadic Homo sapiens began to settle in permanent habitats, the role of nature was flipped upside-down. For the first time, through the building of urban landscapes, man began to make nature. The effects of structure, plumbing, road building constantly change the matter of nature. Thus it can be determined that today, there is no matter of landscape left untouched by humans in the sense that at the drop of a hat, we can control and change the nature surrounding us. David Gissen argues that "all nature is produced ... all nature is laced with human agency and structure".

There is a human desire to control the landscape around us, to make our mark, and to conquer the wild, growing, and ever-changing being that is nature. From the casbahs of Northern Africa to the gôh of the Dogon villages of Mali, the vernacular architecture consumes the open (horizontal or in the case of the Dogon tribes, vertical) landscape. The urban landscape of these villages blurs the boundary between nature and man-made. The primitive, bottom-up technologies that create such architecture slowly form the resultant labyrinthine nature. As each family pushes further and further out, or further and further up the landscape, new and more advanced technologies are required to support the structure of the simple dwelling.

This non-pedigreed architecture spreads itself outwards into the unknown, creating within labyrinthine cities of a very regimented, but open society. While class and gender still control the society, a liberated sense of architecture and movement exists. Social taboos control the programme, but the activity is alive. The souqs of the casbah and the gôhs of the Dogon village can equally be compared to the medieval alleyways of the Parisian ilot and the fondamente of the Venetian sestiere. In all these cases, the architecture the result of "an ontological desire for architecture to harness and engage with energy as a form of social power"

As these labyrinthine natures spread across the landscape, we begin to lose site of scale. The micro and macro become irrelevant to light and dark, point and plane. The monument becomes lost to the overall sprawl and massing of the landscape. It was only in the Renaissance, the Victorian period and other such 'enlightened' eras that man's sense of control was deemed through the 'princely' and the 'hygienic'. The premise of the labyrinthine was simply put as le bon sauvage, Laugier's primitive man in action. The sheer, messy and destructive volume of the labyrinth loses all sense of scale, immersing the viewer within, and in doing so, reveals something very wonderful: The structure and the tectonics of these labyrinthine cities have no master plan or preconceived goals. These landscapes are simply the collective imagination of the masses, just as in the utopian cities of New Babylon.

How does one enter Hollywood? Save for the few locals who can actually walk into it, the majority of those in Los Angeles seeking entertainment, a place to lose themselves, or to be different people, will approach almost from the unknown. They will descend from the freeway, or slowly crawl along the boulevards, or arrive on train from underground. They appear into Hollywood, and all its vestiges suddenly have no relation to the city. Hollywood shares the same bones, the same structure as Los Angeles, but it carries a very different blood.

Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street is the historical apex of cinema culture in Los Angeles. Here started the Hollywoodland phenomenon: a place of fame, the haven of actors and thespians, the home of the glitz and glamour of showbiz. This street corner of such energy and symbolism faded and decayed over the decades as show business moved from the centre of the boulevard outwards to warehouses along Melrose, out to Culver City and even Santa Monica. The vigour of the city changed, and became something new.

Today Hollywood is not exactly the place where one would find famous actors on every block, fancy restaurants and red carpet. Although much has changed in the last decade, the boulevard exists now as the underbelly of Los Angeles culture - where the spirit is open and anything goes. Adult toy shops, tattoo parlours, wax museum, Scientology temples, smoke shops, alternative clothing stores line the boulevard north and south. Passers-by get a glimpse of another Los Angeles culture, the modern day bohemian.

But this passage along the thoroughfare is daunting for the tourist or visitor. Arriving at either the Hollywood and Vine or the Hollywood and Highland developments, the boulevard appears to be a vastly long, trepidatious street. Heavy traffic, both cars and pedestrian create a sense of rushing, time becomes almost more precious, even though it is lost faster and faster stalling at street signals. There is no care-free spirit of movement along the Boulevard, that remains within the stores.

Françoise Choay writes on the buildings and the streets of any city being one and the same, interdependant of each other. This is the same of Hollywood:

"The buildings and streets are inseperable, they define each other. The elements such a street - roadway, pedestrian way and flanked buildings - exist interdependantly of each other. Beachause of their well defined characteristic of felt volume, and their interdependant mix of elements and functions, these streets tend to act both literally and metaphorically as exterior rooms of the city."

Hollywood Boulevard is suffering from a disconnection between street and flanked building. The traffic chokes the city; the linear strip speeds the pedestrian flow past the necessary leisurely amble.

Perhaps a labyrinthine quality of meandering, pausing and thinking could benefit the boulevard. What if the pedestrian had the opportunity to walk both north-south and east-west? What if then those possibilities could multiply into an endless opportunity for the visitor?

Once again, Françoise Choay argues that a city's street cannot be seperated from its interior dimensions, the same is true of the Hollywood Boulevard. Here exists a unique social fabric that is intertwined with that of contemporary Los Angeles. Walking along the boulevard, anything can happen, anything out the of the ordinary can occur. The potential of the street as a function artery of the city far exceeds the façade. Deep within lies the heart of Hollywood culture - the juxtaposition of programmes unusual to most. Only in Hollywood can you find certain relationships and normals that lie out of the realm of traditional planning. WIll Isley writes on labyrinthine planning:

"Very little to do with advanced planning theories of the present or with utopias of the future, but rather with the dark cities of mythology, which exist outside of normal times in some strange location of extremity".

On the previous page we see a section cut through Hollywood Boulevard, just west of Wilcox. As one looks deeper into the street, our eyes begin to see the true nature of the street. Portrayed here as (in perspective order) Paris, Venice and New Babylon, we begin to see the endless possibilities of programmes that can be imagined for the boulevard. Hollywood is the city that created television drama and fantastical action. Along the street lies the same prospects.

Moving east to west, our mind's eye can begin to wander. What if the street opened up north to south at several intervals? Here can lie the same metaphysical notion of the new Hollywood. Above the level of city planning, and in the realm of the imagination of the mind, we can see the boulevard spurring off into distant and foreseeable labyrinths. The density of movement that currently exists can become flipped upside-down as the boulevard unleashes its potential for the human experience.

Is it possible? Land can be procured from the vast car parks that litter the boulevard along the north and the south. These can be built upon, creating a three-dimensional boulvard: east-west, north-south, and even forwards and backwards in time and place.

The ground plane expands outwards from the linear strip of Hollywood; north-south streets close to make way for the pedestrian. People claim Hollywood back from the motor car, the machine: the urban landscape becomes consumed by thronging crowds. Human desire becomes expressed not only within the limits of the commercial boundary, but now within all open land - chacun pour soi.

Now that man has reclaimed the land lost to brownfields, and all the unnecessaries of the digital age, what can be done with it ? Firstly, it must be restored back to its natural state, the concrete shall be torn out, the pipes to the sea: broken, the sewers diverted away. Secondly, a sustainable surface shall be applied to the torn out landscape. New pipes will be laid, redirecting waste waters to new filtration beds. The soil becomes the natural sponge for treated water and, rather than using concrete as a spill off, collecting oils and pollutants from the industrial man now become filtered and reused. Like a blanket, the landscape of Homo ludens shall spread itself on stilts over this reclaimed soil.

In its most ethereal state, the labyrinth of Hollywood rests above the city, wrapping between buildings, hidden from first approach; then upon exploration, it reveals itself in the most surprising fashion. A ground plane of fantasies, something mysterious above. The pedestrian wanders through the environment stimulated by the surroundings, the bazaars of desire. Further ahead, and above, the pedestrian is led to an exploration of all directions, an exploration of the senses.

The labyrinth of Hollywood could be fraught with the urban design terrors of disuse and delapidation, but so be it ! The urban landscape should be the product of human aspirations, not just the design from a single entity for a particular purpose. The demand for parking, delivery, and the general humdrum of current day-to-day will ebb and flow with the new-found lust for the landscape of Homo ludens.

A utopia needs to be redefined -- in the 1960's it relieved a society burdended with opression, war and recessions. Today we exist in a similiar state of mind -- one overwhelmed by the pressures of changing society. Man has become lost in a malaise of technology and convenience. Perhaps a utopia can free society from this, question what has become so blasé in today's world.

Parameters of this utopia:

1. What role does technology have today? Have we become so overhwelmed with social networking and instantaneous access that we lose a connection to our own personal desire? Are we reacting to others rather than to ourselves?
2. A certain dystopia exists that instills fear and paranoia in today's culture. Terrorism, disaster, environmental concerns and irreversable phenomena plague our society. Is there more of a call for a utopia today than ever?
3. Hollywood offers a certain sense of pre-existing Utopia through its film, art and social scene. One already enters Hollywood with the preconceived notion of the unexpected: The celebrity, the fascination, the cult, the bizarre.
4. The modern Utopia offers the opportunity to escape from the pressures of modern technology, whilst still embracing them as the device of momentum in science.
5. The unattainable perfection of science and technology pushed society to adapt and change in the past. This has become lost today, where an online encyclopoedia reveals the secrets of all. The labyrinth offers the opportunity to physically explore and create, rather than sit back in a chair, as what the normal has become today.
6. Perhaps the ground plane further accentuates this overwhelming sensation of the all-consuming media. Then, above, rests a landscape free from this. A garden of Utopia above the labyrinth of modern day dystopia.

What is this second zone? This floating space? This utopia in the sky? Below lies the spreading landscape, devouring human anxieties, a palace of fun. Above lies a second space where people live, roam, farm and experiment. Detached from the overhelmed, blasé world of Hollywood, almost as a parallel universe, society can live a peaceful life (or equally so, an agitated life). Pod-like transient homes rest the weary traveller of the labyrinth. Well equipped for modern-man, these pods provide the necessary anectode for the symptoms of Homo ludens.

Tubes, pipes, aerials, antennae all hang below servicing the dwellers above. The necessary structure holds up the pods, then, metres of earth above them, a new open landscape. Forests of pleasure grow, farmers toil the land, visitors bask in the sun. Laugier's primitive man in action, held up by the most advanced structural systems. Only by peering off the edge does one catch a glimpse of the existing city, the layered landscape of the labyrinth.

The upper sector acts as the plaster that holds together a fragmented world below. One can escape the dystopian nature of media soaked Hollywood to a world drenched in sunlight. Upon escaping, a certain order exists aside from that of the laws of the land. The function of the upper world is primarily a means of relieving housing shortages below, but through a method that turns upside-down Modern Man's idea of typical housing. Leaving the trappings of possession and image that scourge society below, the upper sector provides the minumum standards of shelter and security, whilst creating the opportunity for the free lifestyle of the self-thinking, independent man.

Notes :

1. Berlin has since been removed from the list of studies, replaced by the Middle Eastern labyrinth of the Casbah.
2. Plant, Margaret. Venice: Fragile City, 1797-1997. New Haven: Yale UP, 2002. Print.

Image Sources :

1. "Plan comparatif de New Babylon sur La Haye, 1964, Constant" (Clarence, 1997 pp. 58-59)
2. "Perso ! Canale a Venezia, 2010, Patrick Bourgeois"
3. "Psychogeographic Journey through Venice, 2010, Patrick Bourgeois"
4. "Paris, 16e arrondissement with the area of Avenue Victor-Hugo, Anderson, 1978" (Anderson, 1978 291)
5. "Pedestrian Flows, Place d'Aligre, Anderson, 1978"
6. "Psychogeographic Journey through Paris, 2010, Patrick Bourgeois"
7. "Comparative plan of New Babylon on Paris, Constant" (Wigley, 1998)
8. "Installation view of the First Papers of Surrealism, Marcel Du Champ
9. New Babylon 1
10. New Babylon 2
11. Marrakesh, Maroc - Bernard Rudofsky, 1964
12. Ville Dogon au sud de Timbouctou - Bernard Rudofsky, 1964
13. Terrain (earthquake architecture) - Lebbeus Woods / Dwayne Oyler, 1999
14. Big bambù - Starn Studio, 2010
15. "Nexus Social Graph"
16. Hollywood Orthoimagery, 3/1/03, USGS Earth Survey
17. "Hollywood, 14h", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011
18. "Hollywood, 18h", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011
19. "Hollywood Phantasmagoria", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011
20. "La dérive d'Hollywood", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011
21. "Hollywood, A Bird's Eye View - Things to Come", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011
22. "Endless Possibilities", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011
23. "A Section Through", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011
24. "Housing Plan", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011
25. "Model", Patrick Bourgeois, 2011

References

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13. Marzo, Mauro. VivereVenezia': in the labyrinth : orientamento urbano e segnaletica a Venezia. Venezia: Marsilio, 2004.
14. Marzo, Mauro, and Mario Spinelli. VivereVenezia: nove scuole di architettura europee per la progettazione degli spazi pubblici veneziani. Venezia: Marsilio, 2003.

15. Nieuwenhuys, Constant, and Jean Clarence. Lambert. Constant: New Babylon : Art Et Utopie : Textes Situationnistes. Paris: Cercle D'art, 1997. Print.
16. Orwell, George. Down and Out in Paris and London. London: Penguin Books, 2001.
17. Rigby, Brian. Popular Culture in Modern France: a study of cultural discourse. Taylor & Francis, 1991.
18. Sieverts, Thomas. Cities Without Cities: An Interpretation of the Zwischenstadt. Birkhäuser, 2000.
19. Solnit, Rebecca. Wanderlust. London: Penguin, 2001.
20. Vidler, Anthony. "The Scenes of the Street: Transformations in Ideal and Reality, 1750 - 1871." In On Streets, by Stanford Anderson. Cambridge, Massechusetts: MIT Press.
21. Wigley, Mark. Constant Nieuwenhuys's New Babylon: the hyper-architecture of desire. Rotterdam: Witte de With, Centre for Contemporary Art, 1998.