Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

ВЕЙЦМАНЫ ЭЯЛЬ И ИНЕС

ДО И ПОСЛЕ
АРХИТЕКТУРА
КАТАСТРОФЫ
И ЕЕ ДОКУМЕНТАЦИЯ

3-е издание (электронное)

Москва
«Стрелка Пресс»
2017
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

EYAL AND INES WEIZMAN

BEFORE AND AFTER

DOCUMENTING
THE ARCHITECTURE
ОF DISASTER

3-rd edition (electronic)

Moscow
Strelka Press
2017
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

УДК 72
ББК 85
W42

Weizman, Eyal.
W42 Before and After. Documenting the Architecture оf Disaster = До
и после. Архитектура катастрофы и ее документация [Электронный
ресурс] / E. Weizman, I. Weizman. — 3-rd ed. (el.). — Electronic text
data (1 file pdf : 51 p.). — М. : Strelka Press, 2017. — System
requirements: Adobe Reader XI or Adobe Digital Editions 4.5 ;
screen 10".
ISBN 978-5-906264-18-3
A nuclear facility in Iran before and after an explosion, a village in Pakistan
before and after a drone attack, a Cambodian river valley before and after a flood.
The before-and-after image has become the tool of choice for analysing events.
Satellite photography allows us to scrutinise the impact of war or climate change,
from the safe distance of orbit. But one thing is rarely captured: the event itself.
All we can read is its effect on a space, and that’s where the architectural expert
is required, to fill the gap with a narrative. In this groundbreaking essay, Eyal and
Ines Weizman explore the history of the before-and-after image, from its origins
in 19th-century Paris to today’s satellite surveillance. State militaries monitor us
and humanitarian organisations monitor them. But who can see in higher
resolution? Who controls the size of the pixels? Interpreting these images is never
straightforward.

УДК 72
ББК 85

The source print publication: Before and After. Documenting the

Architecture оf Disaster / E. Weizman, I. Weizman. — Moscow :
Strelka Press, 2014. — 50 p. — ISBN 978-0-9929-1469-1.

ISBN 978-5-906264-18-3 © Strelka Institute for Media,

Architecture and Design, 2014
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

INTRODUCTION

Dresden, view to the Frauenkirche before and after its destruction, 13–14 February
1945.[1]

History is increasingly presented as a series of catastrophes. T he most

common mode of this presentation is the before-and-after image – a
juxtaposition of two photographs of the same place, at different
times, before and after an event has taken its toll. Buildings seen
intact in a ‘before’ photograph have been destroyed in the one
‘after ’. Neighbourhoods bustling with activity in one image are in

—5—
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

ruins or under a layer of foul water in the next. Deforestations,

contaminations, melting icebergs and drying rivers are represented in
paired images that purport to show the consequences of rogue
development, resource exploitation, war or climate change. It seems
that almost any photograph taken today has the potential to become
a ‘before’ to a devastating ‘after ’ yet to come.
T he juxtaposition inherent in before-and-after photographs
communicates not a slow process of transformation over time but,
rather, a sudden or radical change. Forensic accounts, which seek to
reconstruct what took place between the two moments in time, can
sometimes involve intricate processes of interpretation that cross-
reference before-and-after images with other forms of evidence. But
more commonly before-and-after photographs are used to privilege a
direct line of causality between a singular action and a unique effect.
In before-and-after photographs, the event – whether natural, man-
made or an entanglement of them both – is missing. Instead, it is
captured in the transformation of space, thus calling for an
architectural analysis. T his spatial interpretation is called upon to fill
the gap between the two images with a narrative, but that job is never
straightforward.
T he history of before-and-after images is as old as the history of
photography. Indeed, they emerged from the limitations of the early
photographic process. T he few dozen seconds required for the
exposure of a mid-19 th-century photograph was too long a duration to
record moving figures and abrupt events. T he result was that most
often people were missing from the image; only buildings and other
elements of the urban fabric were registered. To capture an event, two
photographs were necessary. T he technique was thus useful in

—6—
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

representing the consequences of urban conflicts, revolutionary

action and large-scale urban reconstructions. Because the event was
registered only through changes in the environment, those studying
the result of violence needed to shift their attention from the figure
(the individual or action) to the ground (the urban fabric or
landscape).

Senafe, Eritrea, 1999 and 2002. Before and after destruction by the Ethiopian army.
[2]

—7—
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

North Darfur, Sudan, 2003 and 2006.[3]

Today, the most common before-and-after images are satellite

photographs, and they are once again the product of a limitation in
the photographic process. T he orbit times of satellites
circumnavigating the planet means that they can only capture the
same place at regular intervals. Because there is a time lag between
each image (the fastest satellites can orbit the Earth every 90 minutes
but at higher altitudes they take several hours), the crucial event is
often missed. In addition, international regulations currently limit the
resolution of publicly available satellite imagery to 50 cm per pixel
(every 50 cm area is represented as a single, colour-coded surface).
Higher-resolution images are available to state agencies, but the
regulation limiting publicly available resolution was set so that they
would not register the human body.[4]
Although this regulation was set because of concerns about
privacy, it also has a security rationale. Not only are strategic sites

—8—
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

camouflaged by the 50 cm pixel resolution, but the consequences of

state violence and violations become harder to investigate. In Israel
and the occupied territories an even more severe limitation on the
resolution of satellite imagery requires that providers degrade their
image to a resolution of 1 m per pixel.[5]T his has the effect, intended
no doubt, of limiting the ability of independent organisations to
monitor state action within that area. Whether politically or
technically motivated, the fact is that the limitation on resolution
means that, 150 years after the invention of photography, the
original problem persists: people are still not registered in the kind of
before-and-after photographs that most commonly document
destructive events.
T he contemporary prevalence of before-and-after images shapes
our perception of the world. It certainly opens up a new dimension in
shifting our attention from the representation of the human agent to
representations of territories and architecture, which also turns spatial
analysis into an essential political tool. However, the crucial thing in
before-and-after images is the gap between them, and these gaps can
resist easy interpretation.
In order to unpack the politics of before-and-after images, it is
vital to understand their history.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

THE HISTORY OF THE BEFORE-AND-AFTER

IMAGE

Eugène Thibault, The Revolution of 1848, Before and After the Attack, 1848.[6]

Perhaps the earliest before-and-after photographs of an urban scene

are a pair of daguerreotypes of the barricade in Paris’s Rue Saint-Maur
Popincourt. T hese were captured by Eugène T hibault from a hidden
window, before and after a clash between workers and the National
Guard led by General Lamoricière on Sunday, 25 June, 1848.
Photography historian Marie Warner Marien has described the scene
unfolding in this pair.[7] T he ‘before’ image shows a sequence of two
or three barricades that appear to have been assembled out of sand
bags and cobblestones. Although the workers’ neighbourhoods of the
time were undergoing an unprecedented population explosion, we can

— 10 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

see no one in the street and no one manning the barricade. Are they
hiding or are they moving too fast to be captured by the camera? T he
‘after ’ image is blurry. T he National Guard seems to have broken
through. Artillery and other military equipment have been positioned
at the place previously held by the defenders. T he workers were
defeated, killed in battle, captured or executed, but the violence and
confusion of the battle are missing.
Not only is the action within this pair of before-and-after
photographs subject to interpretation, but the meaning of the pairing
itself has also changed with time. When printed in August 1848, in
the reactionary (and, later, collaborationist) Parisian weekly
L’Illustration, it was meant to convey the state’s warning to the
workers: this will be your fate if you rebel! But we can now see it as a
testimony to the revolutionaries’ resistance as they started to
transform our world.
Even the presentation of this most minimal of sequences – a
sequence of only two images – calls to mind other cultural forms and
human experiences. First, it made imaginable the possibility of
moving images, a decade before the movie was invented. In this
context it could also be understood as a kind of very early montage: a
form of construction in which images are commented upon, not by
words, but by other images. Second, in this, as in all before-and-after
photographs, the absence of the event from representation might be
seen as analogous to the effects of trauma on memory. Psychological
trauma erases or represses precisely those events that were hardest for
the subject to experience, and these gaps forever keep any
recollection incomplete and indeterminate. Contemporary legal
theory now treats these memory lacunae as evidence in their own

— 11 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

right – the very act of erasure is evidence of the trauma suffered by

the subject. Similarly the gap between before-and-after images might
also be considered as a reservoir of imagined images and possible
histories.
Before-and-after photographs can also depict acts of destruction
in a highly ambiguous way. For instance, the photographic sequence
that began with T hibault and the breaking of the barricades was
continued two decades later. T he narrow streets and alleyways of the
neighbourhoods that the workers of 1848 were trying to defend were
largely destroyed in the 1860s and 1870s, as Georges-Eugène
Haussmann carried out his rebuilding of Paris. T his too would be
captured by before-and-after photographs: for 16 years, beginning in
1862, Charles Marville, the official photographer of Paris, positioned
his camera along the paths that Haussmann’s avenues and vistas would
cut before, during and after their destruction and reconstruction.
Marville’s images of the transformation of Paris were long
misunderstood to be simply a nostalgic representation, a lament for
the destruction of ‘old Paris’. T his assumption has been proven
wrong by art historian Maria Morris Hambourg. Undertaking a
forensic-like investigation, Hambourg located the points from which
these photographs were taken. She plotted their locations on maps of
both the old and the new Paris, demonstrating that Marville used
Haussmann’s plans to decide where to place his camera and how to
compose his images.[8] She writes: ‘… just as Haussmann pencilled his
straight boulevards across the Byzantine topography of Old Paris, so
Marville worked along the path of the projected streets,
photographing whatever would be levelled to make way for them .…

— 12 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Marville’s pictures cut through the urban fabric almost as ruthlessly as

Haussmann’s pick-axe teams.’ [9] Marville’s work was complementary
to Haussmann’s plans. Indeed, his deliberately bleak views of uneven,
curved streets with cobblestones and dilapidated houses would not
have aroused feelings of nostalgia in the 19 th century. T he images he
created describe a pre-modern urban scene – condemned precisely
because it was blocking the path to modernisation – in order to
juxtapose it with the idea of the modern, convenient, efficient and
hygienic city of the future, all constructed ex-nihilo in the gap
between the two pictures. T he ‘gaze’ that Marville captured in his
photographs turned the present into the future long before anything
was actually destroyed and rebuilt.

Roger Fenton, The Valley of the Shadow of Death, 1855. With (left) and without
(right) cannonballs.[10]

Sometimes the question in before-and-after images is which is

which. In her celebrated book, Regarding the Pain of Others, Susan
Sontag discussed a photograph titled The Valley of the Shadow of
Death, taken by English photographer Roger Fenton in 1855 during

— 13 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

the Crimean war. In the photograph, which she claims is the first
photograph of war, a roadway in a valley leading to Sebastopol is
thickly scattered with cannonballs.
Referring to another photograph by Fenton of the same site from
the very same perspective but without the cannonballs on the road,
she explained that ‘many of the canonical images of early war
photography turn out to have been staged, or to have had their
subjects tampered with. After reaching the much-shelled valley
approaching Sebastopol in his horse-drawn darkroom, Fenton made
two exposures from the same tripod position: in the first version of
the celebrated photo… the cannonballs are thick on the ground to the
left of the road, but before taking the second picture – the one that is
always reproduced – he oversaw the scattering of the cannonballs on
the road itself.’ [11]
In ‘Crimean War Essay’, the first chapter in his polemical book
Believing is Seeing, Errol Morris sets out to prove Sontag wrong, or
at least to challenge the ease of her assumption that the photograph
with cannonballs on the road was taken after the one in which the
cannonballs are to the side of the road. If Sontag’s assumed order is
wrong and the photograph with the cannonballs on the road was the
first image, Morris claims, Fenton might have just cleared the road to
allow his carriage to drive through.
To establish the temporal order in this pair of before-and-after
photographs Morris travelled to the Crimea, where he searched for
and found the exact perspective of Fenton’s shot. Establishing the
geographical orientation of the photograph, he tried to calculate
from the shadows on the balls which image was taken first, but this

— 14 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

proved impossible. He zoomed ever closer into the image, eventually

finding a solution, of a sort, in the movement of little stones in the
vicinity of the balls.
‘When the rocks are uphill,’ Morris concluded, ‘the cannonballs
are off the road. T hen, you look at the rocks after they have been
dislodged – rocks that were kicked and then tumbled downhill – the
cannonballs are on the road… It is the laws of gravity that allow us to
order the photographs.’ [12] Despite the conclusion of the essay, in
which Morris confirms the assumption he set out to question, the
obsessive account of his investigations leave no doubt that the order
of the sequence of before-and-after images cannot be taken for
granted.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

THE VERTICAL GAZE

It was the demands of criminology that shifted the direction of

before-and-after photographs from the horizontal to the vertical. In
the first decade of the 20 th century, Alphonse Bertillon, a French
police officer who invented such modern forensic techniques as the
mug shot, conceived of a special contraption that he called the
plongeur (diver in French). T he plongeur consisted of a horizontally-
facing camera that photographed the mouth of a periscope-like-
structure, which directed the camera’s gaze up to the top of a high
tripod and then down again, affording a bird’s-eye view of the crime
scene. Bertillon thought that this vertical perspective avoided any of
the preconceptions of subjectivity or positioning.[13]
Half a century later it was this perspective, taken from heights
newly achievable by the aeroplane, that would document the
annihilation of cities from the air by explosives, fire or nuclear
bombs. In 1972, with the launch of Landsat 1, the first of NASA’s
earth observation satellites, a scale of environmental destruction well
beyond the urban could be observed, gradually turning the entire
planet into a site of forensic investigation.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Hiroshima before and after bombing on 6 August, 1945. The area around ground zero
is marked with circles at 300 m intervals. [14]

In her masterful book Close Up at a Distance, Laura Kurgan

discusses the ways in which satellite vision technologies have created
a radical shift in our ability to ‘use the spatial realm as a political,
human rights and military reference point’.[15] Although satellite
photographs are generally presented and seen as apolitical or neutral
‘views from nowhere’, they are in fact highly political products of
Cold War-era surveillance technologies and other state logics.
Satellites, orbiting above the altitude of state sovereignty but able
to see deep into it, are now a technology closely associated with the
protection of human rights. For it is precisely the extraterritorial
dimension of outer space (whose threshold is defined as the lowest

— 17 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

possible satellite orbit) that makes satellite surveillance attractive not

only to spy agencies undertaking reconnaissance missions but also to
the international organisations and human rights groups who try to
hold states to account.
Andrew Herscher importantly suggested that the fact that these
surveillance technologies are used equally by militaries and human
rights organisations is not without its dangers.[16] T he Kosovo War at
the very end of the 20 th century was the first war in which human
rights violations – those of the Serbian side, to be precise – were the
justification for military action and thus the target for satellite
reconnaissance by the US and its NAT O allies. In this historical
conjunction, human rights concerns and military ones were entangled,
paving the way for further military actions (or threats thereof)
articulated on human rights grounds in other conflicts worldwide.[17]
Satellite images – purporting to show damaged, destroyed or cleansed
villages and towns – presented in before-and-after pairs have become
a call to action.
But Kurgan successfully demonstrates the ways in which satellite
photographs – like any photographs – are open to different
interpretations that cannot be controlled or contained by the state,
and in fact can also be turned against it. T he aerial perspective does
not resolve the inherent ambiguities built into these photographs. Her
book warns against the temptation of easy interpretation, of
attributing to these images the power of conclusive truth beyond the
need for serious interpretation. Rather than retreat from using this
technology, Kurgan’s work seeks to demonstrate ways to intensify the

— 18 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

study and interpretation of these images, and to offer more creative

ways of politically mobilising them.
Indeed, although satellite images are most frequently used by state
and corporate agencies, in recent decades the practice of satellite
image interpretation has helped transform the human rights
movement from an advocacy-based practice to an investigative one
that seeks to hold states accountable. Moreover, thanks to the wide
availability of satellite imagery, even private individuals can now
monitor the actions of, say, the US military. For example, browsing
Google Earth, the Italian aviation blogger David Cenciotti spotted six
US F-15 fighter jets parked at a newly constructed section of the
Djibouti International Airport in October 2011, confirming that the
Pentagon was waging a secret war in Yemen and East Africa. In other
words, forensics is now being crowd-sourced.

The international airport of Djibouti, as seen through the Historical Imagery

function of Goggle Earth, April 2009 and October 2011.

Satellite images shift the attention of human rights analysis from

figure to ground – from the human to the environment. So how can
human rights violations be seen without the human body represented?
At a resolution of 20 m per pixel, as Kurgan has explained, human

— 19 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

rights violations begin to be recognisable as environmental

transformation: one can see, for example, the traces of mass graves
in agricultural fields, but buildings and neighbourhoods are captured as
an undifferentiated mass. At the resolution of 50 cm per pixel –
which is how most satellite images are made available – details come
into view. Individual buildings and building parts can be identified,
opening the possibility of architectural analysis. T his interpretation
resembles an act of archaeology. But this is an archaeology of the
present. It does not consist of an earthly, material excavation of a
distant past. It is rather an architectural reconstruction based on an
analysis of images and the ways these images are composed in pixels.

— 20 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Forensic Architecture and Situ Studio analysis of drone attack on a civilian

gathering in Datta Khel, Waziristan on 17 March 2011.[18]

M arch 30th 2012 M iran S hah Drone S trike

Before image (March 12th 2011) After image (May 13th 2012)

Forensic Architecture and Situ Studio destruction of a weapons bazaar, most likely
by the P akistani military, Miran Shah, Waziristan, April 2011.[19]

Forensic Architecture, the results of an American Strike in Yemen, 14 July 2011 [20]

— 21 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

When crisis occurs, or is expected, commercial image satellites

align their orbits to cover ‘regions of interest’ or ‘areas at risk’ in the
hope of selling their images to organisations interested in the events
below. [21] As such, they operate like photography agencies. T he
images they market are mainly interpreted by for-hire professional
analysts who create before-and-after pairs and perform a skilled
version of a ‘spot the difference’ game. Lars Bromley, a satellite
image analyst with the UN, has explained that in order to create a
photographic juxtaposition of before-and-after images, analysts must
obtain each of the photographs through a different procurement
process. [22] T he ‘before’ photographs are usually retrieved from
existing archives of satellite companies. T hese images might well be
taken with no knowledge of the events that would befall the site
photographed, although they are often taken in anticipation of them.
An analyst most often searches for a ‘before’ image dated as close as
possible to the time of the event. For the ‘after ’ image, the analyst
must either ‘task’ a satellite – which involves the expensive
navigation of a satellite over a specific location – or chose the
cheaper option of ‘cherry-picking’ an existing image, if a photograph
dated close enough after the event exists in the satellite company’s
image bank. T he image might already have been ‘tasked’ by another
client (the buyer, whether tasking or cherry-picking, does not hold
exclusive rights over the image).
In the analysis of the juxtaposition, the ‘before’ image is used as
the baseline – the normal or normative state against which later
events are interpreted as deviations. For this kind of analysis, the
‘after ’ image needs to be as close in time to the ‘before’ as possible.

— 22 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

T he further apart in time the images are, the greater the margin of
error, the more numerous the events that could be implicated in the
new state, and the more speculation is necessary to fill the gap.
T he fact that human rights groups rarely have the resources to
task a satellite, and instead have to pick from existing images, poses a
considerable limit on their work. Generally they can only afford to
interpret satellite images of those places that are already being
monitored by well-funded state institutions or corporations. It thus
makes it harder for private organisations and NGOs to set their own
agenda, and makes them dependent on the tangled interests of
militaries, states and large international organisations.

Forensic Architecture and Situ Studio, analysis of an alleged 29 April 2012 drone
strike on a former girls’ school in Miranshah, North Wasiristan, P akistan. Note no
difference is visible in this pair.[23]

Sometimes, even when witnesses can point out the location of an

aerial attack, no difference is detectable between the images taken
before and after it. T his is often because the impact or the entry hole
is smaller than the size of a single pixel, which, as already mentioned,

— 23 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

is 50 cm square at its sharpest. In a case like this, one of the central

principles of criminal forensics is inverted. Ordinarily, to interpret a
crime the investigator (usually a state agency) should be able to see
more, or in better resolution, than the criminal (whether an individual
or an organisation). When the state agency itself becomes the alleged
criminal, and independent organisations such as NGOs are the
investigators, the problem becomes even more acute. Drone attacks
are planned and executed by state agencies in much higher resolution
than the one at which they can be recorded by satellites. Drones, we
are told, can see the label on a piece of clothing worn by a person
they are tracking, but independent organisations can only monitor
the results of a strike at the resolution of 50 cm a pixel. T he trace of
the impact simply disappears within the solid colour of a single pixel.
T he difference between the high resolution of the attack versus the
low resolution of detection creates a differential in knowledge that
gives space for denial: the state can always marshal a higher-
resolution image in order to prove their opponents wrong.[24]
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

VIOLENCE IN THE ANTHROPOCENE

With the launch of Landsat 1 in 1972, politics became visibly etched

on the surface of the planet like a long-exposure photograph. Landsat
8, launched in February 2013, is the latest satellite in this ongoing
programme, which has systematised the ability to observe and
monitor the surface of the earth in a resolution in which individual
features may not be visible but the entanglement of man-made and
natural environment are. Terrain data from Landsat shows the way in
which human processes have continuously transformed the face of
the planet. T he repetitive coverage of continental earth surfaces has
made gradual transformation visible in long sequences of images,
which can be superimposed as well as juxtaposed. T he registration of
visible, near-infrared, short-wave and thermal regions of the spectrum
captures much more information than can be perceived with the
naked eye. T he sensors on Landsat allow for the monitoring of
changes in vegetation pattern (forests turning into fields, for
example), heat irregularities (bush fires), air pollution and even the
presence of archaeological structures under a thin layer of earth,
which often affects the pattern of plant life over it generations into
the future.
T hese images have made visible what ecologist Eugene Stoermer
and atmospheric chemist Paul Crutzen have called the Anthropocene,
the geological epoch that they claim has already superseded the
Holocene. In the Anthropocene, human action has become a
geological force shaping the material properties of the planet with a
power equivalent to that of volcanoes, earthquakes and plate

— 25 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

tectonics. T he designation, still considered to be a hypothesis,

challenges the distinction between human action and the
environment, between man-made construction and natural site, and
thus, again, between figure and ground. To think architecture in the
Anthropocene is to accept that human habitation is not simply built
on the ground but that it produces new grounds.[25]
T he ecologists and geologists working on the Anthropocene
hypothesis use the term as a warning about the effects that
development, resource exploitation and global trade are having on
climate change and about what they see as an approaching
environmental Armageddon. T he emphasis placed on this
premonition of destruction can obscure the fact that much of the
present level of human-material interaction is also the result of
conflict. Conflicts in the Anthropocene might best be understood, not
as battles taking place in the landscape, or even as wars fought for
land, but rather as the process of making of new lands.

Cambodia, North East of P hnom P enh, Landsat, 1973 and 1985 [26] Visible in the
after image is a grid of canals.

— 26 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

T he history of Cambodia over the past 40 years, as captured in

Landsat images, demonstrates the complexity of this entanglement of
environmental transformations and conflict. In January 1973, less
than five months after Landsat 1 reached orbit, the first detailed
photographic survey of Cambodia was undertaken from outer space.
T hat year also saw the culmination of an escalating campaign of
‘secret’ bombing unleashed by the Nixon administration. Almost 3
million tonnes of bombs were dropped on Cambodia between 1965
and 1973, more than on any other place before or since, and almost
double the total dropped on Germany during World War II (1.6
million tonnes). Approximately two million refugees were forced
from the countryside to cities; about a million of those crowded into
Phnom Penh. T he carpet-bombing ravaged villages, fields and forests,
upturning the surface of the earth. British correspondent Jon Swain
reported for Sunday Times in May of 1975 that the ‘entire
countryside has been churned up by American B-52 bomb craters,
whole towns and villages razed’. T he shifting of the topography
affected the hydrological cycle, rerouted waterways and created
swamps. T he new bomb-made landscape demonstrated the central role
war has in the Anthropocene.
However, the 1973 image became known not for what it showed
but rather for providing the ‘before’ image – the supposedly neutral
baseline – against which another crime would be registered: the
atrocities sometimes referred to as the ‘autogenocide’ perpetrated by
Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge regime on this very ravaged terrain, later
known as the Killing Fields.
A satellite survey undertaken in 1985, six years after the Khmer
Rouge regime was eliminated by communist Vietnamese forces, shows

— 27 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

another massive transformation of the surface of the earth: a strange

grid etched on the surface. T his was achieved not by bombs but by the
labour of an enslaved population that was moved out of the cities –
including many refugees who had just arrived in them – for the
purpose of excavating massive irrigation systems, canals, ditches and
dikes. T hey were not built according to the lay of the land, but rather
along the one-kilometre square gridlines that had been drawn for
orientation on the Chinese military maps used by the Khmer Rouge.
On the basis of this irrigation system, the regime could plan for the
ruralisation of the state and the foundation of a sustainable agrarian
utopia.[27] T hese canals cut straight lines through the ravaged ground
of the already bombed-out Cambodian countryside. T his massive
project – alternately explained in Maoist terms as ‘T he Super Great
Leap Forward’, and in nationalist ones as the new Angkor (which had
been built on a massive square canal system) – was the site of the
Killing Fields.
T he 1973 and 1985 satellite images thus represent the
consequence of a compounded atrocity, inflicted first on Cambodia by
the US Air Force and later by the Khmer Rouge, throughout the
period that the Finnish Inquiry Commission of the time termed the
‘Decade of Genocide’.[28] Of the two events, the US bombing is the
less-represented episode of Cambodian history. Arguably that is
partially because, although it was registered on the 1973 Landsat
photograph, there was no ‘before’ image for it to be compared to.[29]

— 28 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Cambodia, the area near P hnom P enh, Landsat, 1995 and 2009 [30] before and after
massive flooding.

T he third major force of destruction that has been inflicted on

Cambodia is climate change. Contemporary Landsat surveys of
Cambodia show that the Khmer Rouge irrigation system is not only in
good operational order but that it has, in fact, been expanded. T his
was done with the aid of the World Bank and other international
institutions, and has accounted for increased land productivity and
self-sufficiency in Cambodia. But even as extensive as the system has
become, it couldn’t handle the increased frequency and severity of the
monsoon floods that have come with climate change. Cambodia is
one of the countries contributing least to climate change but paying
the highest price for it. In 2011, the worst flood in Cambodia’s
recorded history saw three-quarters of its land area inundated and

— 29 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

about 80 per cent of the harvest destroyed. T he case of Cambodia

demands a shift in the frame of analysis, from a notion of human
rights in relation to the acts of repressive regimes, towards a
conception of rights that combines conflict studies with
environmental issues. T his concern has been named, by both
militaries and human rights groups, as environmental security.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

ALGORITHMIC VISION

Darfur, Sudan, 2003 and 2007 [31] Vegetation classification (NDVI) showing the
increasing vigour predominantly of grasses and shrubs by 2007

T he case of Darfur, Sudan, is another example that can help

demonstrate the entanglement of conflict and environmental
transformations. According to the UN, one of the reasons for the
conflict in Darfur was a reduction in the extent of pastoral land, due
to the desertification of the Sahel, itself a consequence of human-
generated climate change. T he tension that existed between groups
divided along cultural, ethnic and religious lines was aggravated by the
competition over a shrinking pool of land. But the transformation of

— 31 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

the environment was not only the cause, it was also the result of
conflict.
In agrarian areas, such as those in parts of Darfur, where the
conflict led to large-scale massacres and ethnic cleansing, cultivated
fields have fallen fallow in the absence of their masters. Studying the
transformation of the natural environment in Darfur, the Yale
University Genocide Studies Program, which engages with the
interpretation of satellite imagery to help expose and verify claims
for genocide around the world, employed a satellite-borne technology
called Vegetation Index analysis (NDVI). NDVI is a graphical indicator
that is used to visualise the vigour of vegetation cover. When two or
more satellite photographs are juxtaposed or superimposed, the NDVI
data can demonstrate changes in the natural environment between the
dates of capture. Each pixel on the image has a colour on a scale that
indicates whether the area within the pixel lost or gained vegetation
cover. Cultivated fields have a single plant species spread more or less
evenly and therefore display a great degree of coherence in terms of
heat emission. Several years after being abandoned, fields display a
more random distribution of plant varieties, representing the robust
return of ‘natural’ (uncultivated) vegetation, as can be seen in the
images above.
T he difference between the images illustrates a rebound in
biomass, in vegetation coverage and in the vigour of the plants
registered. Grasses and shrubs, more robust and durable than cultivated
varieties, are now growing in formerly agrarian and livestock grazing
ranges.[32] T his, the Yale report claims, is most likely an indication
of a decreased number of livestock and of farming activity – and thus

— 32 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

of people – that followed ‘the systematic government-sponsored

violence and population displacement committed by Sudanese
government and militia forces’.[33] So this return to wilderness – a
process of nature repairing itself – is also interpreted as an area where
humans were killed and displaced.
NDVI is a product of one of several hyper-spectral sensors that
register wavelengths beyond the spectrum perceivable to the human
eye. T he digitisation of this data extends the capacity to monitor
patterns of land use transformation as human rights violations across
the surface of the Earth. Given the properties of an ‘object’ – a
house, a vehicle, earthworks, a vegetation type – as visual or thermal
information, an algorithm can identify and calculate its density and
dispersion in satellite images. But even in this completely algorithmic
environment, sequences of photographs are crucial. T he ‘before’
image is significant because the baseline is calibrated to it. It is from
this ‘normative’ state that the Δ (delta) marking the extent of
transformation to the ‘after ’ image is measured.
In this and similar analytical work, human rights violations are
made visible by visualising and analysing some of the previously
invisible domains of the electromagnetic spectrum. T he exclusion of
people from representation is thus complemented by their gradual
exclusion from the increasingly automated process of viewing and
also, as we have seen, from the algorithmic process of data
interpretation.
In the advent of the human-rights movement in the 1970s, the
function of testimony – mainly that of survivors and dissidents – was
central. Testimony, reproduced in human rights reports and public

— 33 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

statements, had not only an epistemic value but also a political and an
ethical one. Human rights investigations could thus be said to be
about the human and by the human. T he shift in human-rights
methodologies from human testimony to an emphasis on the analysis
of material or digital evidence – which consists largely of satellite
imagery – has caused the field of human rights to give up something
of what was distinctly ‘human’ about it. Human rights analysis seems
paradoxically to have entered a post-human phase. Sensors and
algorithms, rather than humans, are analysing the transformation of
the environment as the condition that sustains human life.
We are a long way away from what scholars, thinking about the
last decades of the 20 th century, called ‘the era of the human
witness’ [34] and well into the analysis of ground conditions mediated
by algorithms. T he departure of the human rights world from the
traditional humanistic frame has gone hand-in-hand with the growing
proximity between human rights organisations and the militaries of
western states. T his proximity, as mentioned above through the work
of Laura Kurgan and Andrew Herscher, is expressed by a shared
technology, optics, overlapping aims and a fluid exchange of
personnel. While creatively using the toolbox of contemporary image
analysis, we need to remember that the technologies of surveillance
and destruction are the same as those used in forensics to monitor
these violations. Both rely on reading before-and-after images, albeit
in different directions and with different intentions. T he air force
targetier will study before-and-after images to evaluate the accuracy
of a strike; the human rights worker will study the same pair to
evaluate the civilian losses it has caused.

— 34 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

But even if the human rights analysts must look at the same
images as the targetier, they can be tuned to other issues, establishing
more extended and intricate political causalities and connections.
T hey must see in these images not only the surface of the Earth but
the surface of the image – that is the politics that is embodied in the
technologies of viewing and representation. More importantly they
should seek to understand the conditions – technological and political
– that have generated the gap between the images.[35] T his is because
the gaps between the photographic or algorithmic representation in
before-and-after images will forever keep the subject represented
uncertain, discontinuous, lacunar, open to ever-new interpretations
that will emerge every time we look at these images.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

RUINS IN REVERSE

Dresden, views over its destruction in 1945 and its reconstruction c. 1982. [36]

At its core, the fantasy of forensics is the reversibility of time.

Before-and-after images can be equally read from right to left or from
left to right, like the Hotel Palenque, which, in the hands of Robert
Smithson, became a ‘ruin in reverse’ going through an endless cycle of
simultaneous decay and renovation.[37]
Another project evokes this oscillation even more clearly. T he
book Bilddokument Dresden: 1933–1945, which was published in

— 36 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

1946, attempted to represent the destruction of Dresden in sequences

of before-and-after photographs taken by Kurt Schaarschuch.
Schaarschuch photographed the city in 1933 in full splendour. A few
weeks after the RAF bombing of the nights of 13 and 14 February
1945, he returned to the same sites, trying to find amongst the burnt
rubble of his city the locations of the set of prints he had brought
with him.
T he caption he added to the last photograph in the book called
for reconstruction. And indeed, after the partial reconstruction of
some of the buildings, a number of photographers returned to the
same sites captured by Schaarschuch, matching their viewfinders to
his and creating yet more ‘afters’, which approximated the first
‘befores’ and which were reproduced in new city guides. T his
perception of the reversal of time is reminiscent of one of the most
beautiful paragraphs in the literature of war, the fabulous anti-war
utopia in Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse V achieved simply by
inverting the description of the bombing of Dresden.

T he formation flew backwards over a German city that was in

flames. T he bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a
miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into
cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers into the
bellies of the planes .… When the bombers got back to their base,
the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to
the United States of America, where factories were operating
night and day, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous
contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did
this work. T he minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote

— 37 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide
them cleverly, so they would never hurt anybody ever again.[38]

Dresden, view to the Frauenkirche immediately after and long after its destruction.
Image on the left Kurt Schaarschuch. Image on the right, Stefanie Elsel, 2013.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T his text takes its inspiration from a chapter on before-and-after

images in Ines Weizman’s doctoral work on the architectural
transformation of former East German cities, later published in
various articles[39], but was refracted and taken further through Eyal
Weizman’s work on Forensic Architecture. We would like to thank
Alma (before) and Hannah Amalia (after) for bearing with us.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

E ND NOT E S

1 Kurt Schaarschuch, Bilddokument Dresden: 1933–1945

(Dresden, 1946).
2 AAAS, Geospatial Technologies and Human Rights:
Ethiopian Occupation of the Border Region of Eritrea, 2002.
© 2013 Quickbird - Digital Globe
3 American Association for the Advancement of Science
(AAAS), Damage to a settlement at the outskirts of Shangil
Tobay/Shadad region ©2013 Quickbird - Digital Globe
4 Conversation with Lars Bromley, 28 January 2013. See also
the Land Remote Sensing Policy,
5 William Fenton, Why Google Earth pixelates Israel, available
at (Link).
6 Eugène T hibault, The Barricade in rue Saint-Maur-Popincourt
before the attack by General Lamoricière's troops, Sunday 25
June 1848 ©RMN (Musée d'Orsay) / Hervé Lewandowski
2002.
7 Mary Warner Marien, Photography – A cultural history
(London: Laurence King, 2006), 44–45.
8 ‘Marville worked in a methodical fashion; before the
construction work began, he generally took two pictures –
from two different vantage points – of each street scheduled
to disappear. He then continued to photograph the site in each
of the successive stages of its construction, thus outlining the
layout of what was to come.’ From Maria Morris Hambourg,

— 40 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Hambourg, in Chambord, Jacqueline, ed., Charles Marville:

Photographs of Paris, 1852–1878 (New York: T he French
Institute/Alliance Francaise, 1981), 9.
9 Ibid, 10.
10 Digital images courtesy of the Getty's Open Content
Program.
11 Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others (New York:
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003), 53.
12 Errol Morris, Believing is Seeing (London: Penguin Press,
2011), 64.
13 Greg Siegel, ‘T he Similitude Of T he Wound’, Cabinet
Magazine, (Special Issue on Forensics, Eyal Weizman ed.),
issue 43, 2012.
14 Unknown Author; T his image is a work of a U.S. military or
Department of Defense employee, taken or made as part of
that person's official duties. As a work of the U.S. federal
government, the image is in the public domain..
15 Laura Kurgan, Close up at a Distance: Mapping, Technology
and Politics (New York: Zone Books, 2013). T he bulk of this
essay was written before the publication of this book; we also
consulted Kurgan’s website, (Link), which contains much of
the information later published in the book.
16 Andrew Herscher, ‘Envisioning Exception, Satellite Imagery,
Human Rights Advocacy, and Techno-Moral Witnessing’,
lecture at the Centre for Research Architecture, 4 March
2013. Herscher ’s lecture, although delivered too late to be

— 41 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

referred to in this piece in more detail, has been instrumental

in the edit. It was included in a series of seminars on satellite
imagery titled ‘Sensing Injustice’ that Susan Schuppli has
organised in the context of the Forensic Architecture project.
Other contributions to this series have been helpful in shaping
this essay, including Lars Bromley’s contribution, on 27
November 2012; John Palmesino and Ann-Sofi Rönnskog’s,
on 29 January 2013; and of course, Laura Kurgan’s Close up
at a Distance, 19 April 2013. More information on the series
is available at (Link).
17 ‘T he public could see ethnic cleansing in progress: high-
resolution imagery of mass graves, refugees in the mountains,
burning villages and organised deportations.’ From Kurgan,
Close up at a Distance, 117.
18 © 2013 Forensic Architecture
19 © 2013 Forensic Architecture
20 © 2013 Forensic Architecture
21 Andrew Herscher, ‘Envisioning Exception’.
22 Conversation with Lars Bromley, 28 January 2013.
23 © 2013 Forensic Architecture
24 T his information comes from an investigation on drone
attacks in Pakistan undertaken by Forensic Architecture, a
project directed by Eyal Weizman, for the UN Special
Rapporteur for Human Rights. Participants in this
investigation include Susan Schuppli (Project coordinator),
Situ Studio (as collaborators), Chris Cobb-Smith, Francesco

— 42 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Sebregondi, Blake Fisher, Helene Kazan and Jacob Burns.

More information can be found at (Link).
25 Dating the beginning of Anthropocene is controversial and
contested. Curzon proposed the latter part of the eighteenth
century, when the steam engine was invented. Others propose
to go back a good few millennia, to the beginning of
agriculture and settlement in the ancient period.
26 US Geological Survey, Jan. 3, 1973, Landsat 1 (path/row
135/52) — Phnom Penh, Cambodia and Dec. 14, 1985,
Landsat 5 (path/row 126/52) — Phnom Penh, Cambodia,
both ©USGS 2013.
27 Robert Wellman Campbell, ed., ‘Phnom Penh, Cambodia:
1973, 1985’, Earthshots: Satellite Images of Environmental
Change, U.S. Geological Survey, available at (Link). T his
article was released 1 January 1998.
28 Kimmo Kiljunen, ed., Kampuchea: Decade of the Genocide:
Report of a Finnish Inquiry Commission (London: Zed
Books, 1984). T he Finnish Inquiry Commission estimated
that about 600,000 people in a population of over seven
million died during phase I, while two million people became
refugees. For the second phase they give 75,000 to 150,000
as a ‘realistic estimate’ for outright execution, and the figure
of roughly one million dead from killings, hunger, disease, and
overwork. For more about the Finnish Commission, see
Edward S. Herman and Noam Chomsky, Manufacturing
Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media (London:
Vintage Books: 1994) 260.

— 43 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

29 On the interpretation of these two images, a political debate

emerged between the ‘anti-imperialists’ opposing the US
bombing in Vietnam and Cambodia as a part of the US
domination – most clearly exemplified by the position of
Noam Chomsky – and the ‘anti-totalitarians’, who saw the
Khmer Rouge as a totalitarian menace that called for
international intervention. In the late 1970s and early 1980s
the exposure of Khmer Rouge’s massacres in the name of a
rural utopia, their attempt to rearrange the very fundamentals
of space, and undo – once and for all – the division between
cities and countryside which culminated in the evacuation of
Phnom Penh, coincided with the publication of Aleksandr
Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago. Each in its own way
exposed the horror of totalitarian-state communism and, to
many in Europe, delivered a deadly blow to it. T hese positions
accelerated the departure of a human-rights movement – anti-
utopian and of limited aims – from the ranks of the radical
left.
30 US Geological Survey, Feb. 25, 1995, Landsat 5 (path/row
126/52) — Phnom Penh, Cambodia and Jan. 14, 2009,
Landsat 5 (path/row 126/52) — Phnom Penh, Cambodia,
both ©USGS 2013.
31 Russell Schimmer, “ T racking the Genocide in Darfur:
Population Displacement as Recorded by Remote Sensing” in
Genocide Studies Working Paper No. 36, Yale University
2008
32 From the GIS & Remote Sensing Project, Darfur, available

— 44 —
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

at (Link).
33 Ibid.
34 T he phrase “ era of testimony” comes from Shoshana Felman,
“ In an Era of Testimony: Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah,” Yale
French Studies 79 (1991): 39–81.
Shoshana Felman and Dori Laub, Testimony: Crises of
Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis, and History
(London: Routledge, 1992).
35 Ines Weizman, ed., Architecture and the Paradox of
Dissidence (London: Routledge, 2013).
36 Max Seydewitz, Die unbesiegbare Stadt. Zerstörung und
Neuaufbau von Dresden, 1982.
37 Robert Smithson, Hotel Palenque. More information is
available at (Link).
38 Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (New York: Dial Press,
1999),64.
39 Ines Weizman, Temporal Dyslexia, in Francesca Ferguson, ed.,
Deutschlandschaft (catalogue of the German Pavilion, Venice
Architecture Biennale) (Berlin, 2004); Ines Weizman,
‘Critique without Memory, or Memory without Critique. T he
story of post-socialist transformation’, in Ilina Koralova, ed.,
Againstwithin (catalogue for a project of the Gallery of
Contemporary Art (GfZK), Leipzig, in collaboration with
FUD Usti nad Labem, and Forum Stadtpark Graz) (Graz:
Verlag Forum Stadtpark, 2007), 21–35.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eyal Weizman is an architect, Professor of Spatial and Visual Cultures

and director of the Centre for Research Architecture at Goldsmiths,
University of London. Ines Weizman is an architect and Professor of
Architectural T heory at the Bauhaus University Weimar, as well as
teaching at London Metropolitan University.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

ABOUT STRELKA

Strelka Institute for Media, Architecture and Design is an

international education project launched in 2010. A post-graduate
research institute with a curriculum designed and led by Rem
Koolhaas/AMO, Strelka also hosts public lectures and workshops,
publishes books and consults on urban development.
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

OTHER TITLES IN THIS SERIES

Less Is Enough: On Architecture and Asceticism

By Pier Vittorio Aureli
Can Jokes Bring Down Governments: Memes, Design and Politics
By Metahaven
Belyayevo Forever: Preserving the Generic
By Kuba Snopek
Dark Matter and T rojan Horses: A Strategic Design Vocabulary
By Dan Hill
Across the Plaza: T he Public Voids of the Post-Soviet City
By Owen Hatherley
Edge City: Driving the Periphery of São Paulo
By Justin McGuirk
Splendidly Fantastic: Architecture and Power Games in China
By Julia Lovell
T he Action is the Form: Victor Hugo’s T ED Talk
By Keller Easterling
T he Dot-Com City: Silicon Valley Urbanism
By Alexandra Lange
Make It Real: Architecture as Enactment
By Sam Jacob
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

TABLE OF CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
T HE HIST ORY OF T HE BEFORE-AND-AFT ER IMAGE
T HE VERT ICAL GAZE
VIOLENCE IN T HE ANT HROPOCENE
ALGORIT HMIC VISION
RUINS IN REVERSE
END NOT ES
ABOUT T HE AUT HOR
ABOUT ST RELKA
OTHER TITLES IN THIS
Copyright ОАО «ЦКБ «БИБКОМ» & ООО «Aгентство Kнига-Cервис»

Minimum system requirements:

Adobe Reader XI or Adobe Digital Editions 4.5 for
Windows, Mac OS, Android & iOS ; screen 10"

16+

Социально-политическое электронное издание

Вейцманы Эяль и Инес

ДО И ПОСЛЕ.
АРХИТЕКТУРА КАТАСТРОФЫ
И ЕЕ ДОКУМЕНТАЦИЯ
На английском языке

Weizman Eyal and Ines

BEFORE AND AFTER.
DOCUMENTING THE ARCHITECTURE
ОF DISASTER

Signed for use: 22.08.2017

Size: 10,0×12,5 cm
Font: Times New Roman

Publisher: Strelka Press

Strelka Institute for Media, Architecture and Design
119072, Moscow
Bersenevskaya naberezhnaya 14, build. 5а
Tel: +7 (495) 268 06 19
Email: [email protected]
www.strelkainstitute.com

This electronic version of the publication was prepared

by Intermediator Electronic Publications Agency
Website: http://www.intermediator.ru
Tel: (495) 587-74-81
Email: [email protected]