旅行方程式—經典遊記的想像與建構

今年(2016)適逢《徐霞客遊記》自清乾隆四十一年（1775年）正式刊印二百四十周年紀念，為讓大眾欣賞國家圖書館相關古籍典藏，國圖特自館藏文獻中挑選具有代表之文獻與圖像四十餘種。

展覽自105年6月1日起至12月31日。另外，為推廣中文古籍經典閱讀，今年秋季經典系列講座亦以「旅行方程式：經典遊記的想像與建構」為主題，於8月27日至10月29日舉辦八場講座，邀請到相關領域重要研究者與作家，分別為讀者導讀介紹隋唐、明清時期遊記、外國人眼中的臺灣之旅，以及臺灣人環遊世界觀、旅行與閱讀，飽覽經典中的文化形象視角。

一、館藏古籍展覽

東亞文化圈早在《詩經》年代(西元前十一世紀至前六世紀)，已有人類出遊記錄，如「鶴鳴於九皋，聲聞於野」。至孔子周遊列國，則又將旅行與出遊融入「遊必有方」的教育信念。所謂「父母在，不遠遊，遊必有方」，大抵透露出遊行為與儒家價值觀的高度互動性。

早期中文典籍紀錄出遊主要集中在帝王與士大夫階層，如創作於戰國時期，記周穆王巡遊事《穆天子傳》、最早的遊記文學創作-屈原《離騷》。漢唐時代以後，部分士人或因擔任地方官員，或參軍佐幕，甚至是流放邊疆，寫作不只是單純記錄風土，也成為書寫個人記憶與想像時代的媒體，如柳宗元撰《永州八記》，於是各類遊記與雜記大量出現。宋元以後，隨著社會經濟脤動，加上科舉所帶來的壓力，士人雅慕嶽遊，一覽山水之勝，逐漸成為風尚。至明代以後士人旅遊風氣更為蓬勃，凡遇佳山水必遊，遊必有詠歌。其中《徐霞客遊記》其成就不僅記錄明代經濟生活蓬勃，也彰顯遊記體裁的多樣風貌。這些風雅朝士緩步尋幽、野徑蒐奇，遐想策足所留下的遊記與雜記，不僅提供後世瞭解古代地方文化的第一手資料包括風俗習慣、生態環境、經濟民生，甚至軍事國防範疇。

為使民眾認識展覽古籍及其所代表之文化內涵，展覽主題區分為以下五項：徐霞客遊記、經典遊記、明代遊記、旅遊文化、域外與臺灣遊記。以下即介紹本次展覽具有代表性之書籍：


(一) 古今遊記之最：《徐霞客遊記》徐霞客（1587-1641），名弘祖(後世因避清高宗弘曆諱，改為宏祖），字振之，號霞客，明南直隸江陰（今江蘇江陰市）人。為5百年來中國最重要旅行家、探險家、地理學者及遊記作家。

他從22歲自江陰出遊開始，33年之間遊歷了中國19個省區，足跡遍及半個中國大陸，並寫下日記體裁遊記。徐氏去世前託塾師季夢良整理原稿，後由季氏與王忠紉編輯成書稿。然因時局動盪，文稿散失。清初徐氏後人曾收集殘存的抄本並增補部分內容再編輯成書稿，此為「李介立本」，被譽為「諸祖之本」。康熙四十八年（1709）江陰人楊名時（1661-1737）從劉開南處得《徐霞客遊記》，翌年又自友人處得令一抄本，遂進行互校。《四庫全書》所收即楊名時重加編訂。

乾隆年間，江陰人陳泓又對《徐霞客遊記》李寄、楊名時等諸多版本進行校讎。乾隆四十一年（1776），徐鎮根據「李介立本」將《徐霞客遊記》刊刻成書，正式出版。（黃文德 國家圖書館特藏文獻組編輯「旅行方程式—經典遊記的想像與建構」系列活動策劃與執行 BIBLID 1026-7220（2016）105:4 p 1-7）（下續）

(Con't) Erik Cohen, Authenticity & Commodization in Tourism Conclusion
This analysis leads to a conclusion which is, in the main, the opposite of that deduced from the basic assumptions prevalent in much of the contemporary literature on tourism, as presented at the beginning of this paper. Commoditization does not necessarily destroy the meaning of cultural products, neither for the locals nor for the tourists, although it may do so under certain cottons.

Tourist-oriented products frequently acquire new meanings fah the locals, as they become a diacritical mark of their ethnic or cultural identity, a vehicle of self-representation before an external public. However, old meanings do not thereby necessarily disappear, but Tay remain salient, on a different level, for an internal public, despite commoditization — as the case of Balinese ritual performances exemplifies.

Neither does commoditization necessarily destroy the meaning of cultural products for the tourists, since these are frequently prepared to accept such a product, even if transformed through commoditization, as "authentic," insofar as some at least of its traits are perceived as "authentic." Such traits can then be taken to authenticate, metonymically, the product as a whole. The breadth of such authentic traits necessary to satisfy the tourist will, in turn, depend on the depth of the touristic experience to which each individual tourist aspires. Since most rank-and-file tourists do not aspire to much depth, a few traits of a cultural product which appear "authentic" will in most cases suffice for its acceptance as an "authentic" product.

Hence, mass tourism does not succeed because it is a colossal deception, but because most tourists entertain concepts of "authenticity" which are much looser than those entertained by intellectuals and experts, such as curators and anthropologists. Indeed, for many tourists, tourism is a form of play (Cohen 1985), which like all play, has profound roots in reality, but for the success of which a great deal of make-believe, on part of both performers and audience, is necessary. They willingly, even if often unconsciously, participate playfully in a game of "as if," pretending that a contrived product is authentic, even if deep down they are not convinced of its authenticity.


This re-examination of some of the assumptions prevalent in the tourism literature has some important implications for the study of the social and cultural impacts of tourism. In particular, rather than assuming the destructive impact of commoditization on the authenticity and meaning of cultural products, such impact should be submitted to a detailed empirical examination, if possible within an emic, processual, and comparative framework (Cohen 1979b:31-32). Such an approach will make it possible to gauge over time the permutations of meaning and authenticity as perceived by locals and tourists alike; it will also make it possible to determine the conditions under which cultural meanings are preserved or newly emergent, and distinguish them from those under which they are practically destroyed through the impact of tourism.

Such an examination will, in turn, forge the intellectual instruments necessary for the formulation of a prudent policy approach to tourism, as both a branch of economic development and as a major cultural manifestation of the modern world, which will avoid the extremes of a total condemnation of tourism as well as of its uncritical approbation. (Erik Cohen, 1988, Authenticity & Commodization in Tourism, Annals of Burtsm &march, Vol. 15, pp. 371-386, 1988)

(Con't) There is no reason to assume that their music lost all meaning for them, merely because they have been paid for performing it. It would be absurd to argue that all popular music is meaningless for the artists merely because it is commercialized. Greenwood appears to have assumed that the immediate negative reaction of the local population to the commoditization of the Alarde will become its permanent attitude to the festival. This assumption, however, contradicts an implication of his own later insight regarding "emergent authenticity," cited above. For, just as a new cultural product can become with time widely accepted as "authentic," so it can, although changed through commoditization, acquire a new meaning for its producers. Thus, what used to be a religiously meaningful ritual for an internal public, may become a culturally significant self-representation before an external public. Moreover, the two kinds of meanings are not necessarily mutually exclusive but could be additive: new meanings may be added to old ones, which persevere into the new situation. According to McKean (1976:241-3), Balinese ritual performances have three separate audiences, a divine, a local, and a touristic. :This last one does not necessarily spoil the meaning of the performance for the two others)"The touristic audience is appreciated for the economic assets it can bring . . . but its presence has not diminished the importance of performing competently for the other two audiences, the villagers and the divine realm" (1976:244). Moreover, if Balinese performances are staged specifically for tourists, " . . the funds, as well as the increased skills and equipment available have enriched the possibility that the indigenous performances will be done with more elegance, in effect conserving culture" (1976:244).

One has to bear in mind that commoditization often hits a culture not when it is flourishing, but when it is actually already in decline, owing to the impingement of outside forces preceding tourism. Under such circumstances, the emergence of a tourist market frequently facilitates the preservation of a cultural tradition which would otherwise perish. It enables its bearers to maintain a meaningful local or ethnic identity which they might otherwise have lost.   his is particularly the case in the sphere of folk arts and crafts, many o ich are in decline in Third World countries owing to the penetration o  industrial goods and Western consumer tastes— but some of which ha e been salvaged or revived through demand by the tourist market/ (cf. Graburn ed. 1976). Finally, even where a cultural tradition still flourishes, its cornmoditization may well be emically perceived by its members as less of a change than it appears to an external an . While to the external observer, commoditization may appear to involve a complete transformation of meaning as a cultural product s being reoriented to a new, external audience. In many situations of commoditization, the performers themselves do not necessarily perceive that such a transformation had in fact occurred. Rather, despite the changed context, they may perceive an often astonishing degree of continuity between the old and the new situation. Thus, performers of tourist-oriented Voodoo shows in Haiti, do still go into a trance (Goldberg 1983:488); and tourist-oriented prostitutes in Bangkok bring many traditional attitudes towards Thai men into their relationships with tourists (Cohen,  in press a). Local people frequently interpret novel situations in traditional terms, and thus perceive a continuity of cultural meaning which may escape the observer (cf. Smith 1982). 

(Con't) It is generally the case that "Dealings with strangers . . . provide contexts for the commoditization of things that are otherwise protected from commoditization" (Appadurai 1986:15). Tourists in the modern world are particularly ubiquitous types of strangers, notorious for their propensity to precipitate, directly or indirectly, the commoditization of an ever wider range of things (and activities), many of which have been kept out of the domain of the market prior to the penetration of tourism, by rigorous normative prohibitions and taboos.

According to Greenwood (1977), who made one of the first studies of commoditization of culture through tourism, the commoditized cultural products lose in the process their intrinsic meaning and significance for the local people, who in turn lose their enthusiasm for producing them. Thus, Greenwood argues, as the public ritual of the Alarde in the Spanish-Basque town of Fuenterrabia became a major touristic attraction, and the authorities declared that it should be performed twice on the same day to accommodate the large number of visitors, the local participants lost interest in it. Consequently, " . . . the municipal government was considering payments to people for their participation in the Alarde? . . . just as the gypsies are paid to dance and the symphony orchestra is paid to make music. The ritual has become a performance for money. The meaning is gone" (Greenwood 1977:135). In other words, the once "authentic" public ritual became a staged performance, a cultural "commodity."

Such processes of commoditization of culture for touristic purposes are doubtlessly quite common all over the Third World and in the ethnic areas of both Western and Communist countries. Rituals, ceremonies, costumes, and folk arts may all be subjected to commoditization. Moreover, since the process is frequently initiated by culture brokers and touristic entrepreneurs from outside the local community, it may well lead to the exploitation of the locals and of their cultural resources by outsiders. Finally, the process of commoditization also tends to affect the cultural products themselves. As they become increasingly oriented to an "external public," rituals may be shortened, embellished, or otherwise adopted to the tastes of the tourists (cf. Boorstin 1964:103). Art and craft products may also be changed in form, materials, or colors (cf. Cohen 1983), " . . . in response to the impositions or temptations from large-scale and sometimes far-away consumers" (Appadurai 1986:47) such as in the case of "indirect tourism" (Aspelin 1977). Indeed, the emerging genre of "tourist arts" (Appadurai 1986:47; Cohen 1983; Graburn ed. 1976) is perhaps the most salient example of the commoditization of a range of cultural products through tourism.

All these developments and sometimes radical changes in the form and content of the commoditized goods and services notwithstanding, however, Greenwood's categorical assertion that, once a cultural product is commoditized "the meaning is gone," appears to be an over-
generalization. Counter-examples may be easily found. For example, folk musicians, who play for money Iv an external audience, may be excited by the opportunity to present-their art and proud to display their competence.

One further point, closely related to the concept of "emergent authenticity" ought to be noted. The new, "external public" (Graburn 1976a; Shiloah and Cohen 1983:237) provided by the tourists, may offer an opportunity to the producers of cultural products to incorporate in them novel but "authentic" messages, differing from those incorporated in cultural products intended solely for the "internal" local or ethnic public. Thus, Silver (1979) claims to have detected such messages hidden in the apparently exaggerated, "exotic" features of commercialized African sculptures. This author also found such messages explicitly  stated  in  the  commercialized  figurative embroideries of Hmong (Meo) refugees from Laos (Cohen 1982b:41; Forthcoming). The Hmong from whose "traditional" arts fi   rative represent#tions were absent, nostalgically depict in these embroideries the richness of their traditional customs to the world at large, a as seek to  r w its attention to their sufferings in recent history and to  heir present dire predicament. Such messages thus become new cul ural exp  ssions, which are recognized as "authentic" even by experts such as anthropologists or ethnographers interested in cultural change.

COMMODITIZATION

"Commoditization" is a process by which things (and activities) come to be evaluated primarily in terms of their exchange value, in a context of trade, thereby becoming goods (and services); developed exchange systems in which the exchange value of things (and activities) is stated in terms of prices form a market. Though trade systems and gift systems were apparently even in the past less unequivocally segregated than previously claimed, markets have expanded throughout the world in the modern era, bringinA,about the commoditization of an ever wider range of things and actin ties (cf. Appadurai 1986). The principal question in ,this context is, what happens to the other meanings (particularly religious, cultural, and social) of things (and activities) once they become commoditized, particularly under the impact of tourism.

Emergent Authenticity

Since authenticity is not a primitive given, but negotiable, one has to allow for the possibility of its gradual emergence in the eyes of visitors to the host culture. In other words, a cultural product, or a trait thereof, which is at one point generally judged sa contrived or inauthentic may, in the course of time, become generally recognised as authentic, even by experts, as Cornet's (1975:54) equivocation quoted above demonstrates. Thus, for example, an apparently contrived, tourist-oriented festival (such as the Raymi Festival Cuzco, a "revival" of an ancient Incaic custom) may in due time accepted as an "authentic" local custom. Similarly, craft products only produced merely for sale to visitors and tourists, may eventually become "authentic" products of an ethnic group or region — as happened with, for example, the Eskimo soapstone carvings (Graburn 1976b) or the Haida argillite carvings (Kaufmann 1976). Greenwood (1982:27) remarked that "all viable cultures are in the process of 'making themselves up' all the time." One could call this process "emergent authenticity," just as a parallel process in the ethnic realm was termed "emergent ethnicity" (Yancey et al 1976).

"Emergent authenticity" stresses one aspect or refers to one manifestation, of the wider phenomenon of "invention of tradition," whose ubiquitousness has been so impressively documented in Hobsbawm and Ranger's (1983) volume. In principle it is possible for any new-(angled gimmick, which at one point appeared to be nothing but a staged "tourist trap," to become over time, and under appropriate conditions, widely recognized as an "authentic" manifestation of local culture.

One can learn about this process of gradual "authentication" from the manner in which the American Disneylands, once seen as the supreme example of contrived popular entertainment-, became over time a vital component of contemporary American culture (e.g., Johnson 1981; King 1981). They will, no doubt, in the future be perceived even by historians and ethnographers, as an "authentic" American tradition (cf. Moore 1980).

(Con't) The vast majority of tourists do not demand such a "total authenticity!" Even "experiential" tourist , though seriously concerned with the authenticity of their experience, entertaining strict criteria for judgments of authenticity, will often fo us in such judgments on some traits of the cultural product and, disregard others. Hence, they will be prepared to accept a cultural *duct as authentic, insofar as traits, which they consider to be diacritical, are judged by them to be authentic. These traits are then considered sufficient for the authentization of the product as a whole. One could say that they symbolize metonymically the authenticity of the tourist-oriented cultural product as a whole. °Therefore, such tourists will accept a commercialized object as "authentic," insofar as they are convinced that it is indeed ornamented with "traditional" designs and "hand made" by members of an ethnic group (even though it may have been made of different materials or, in a different form than the "traditional" product and was produced expressly for the market). They may similarly accept as "authentic" a commercialized replication of local customs, such as a dance or a ritual, in so far as it is performed identically by members of the local group, as is its non-commercialized counterpart. A recent

study by Moscardo and Pearce (1986) provides some empirical evidence on this point. They have studied visitors perceptions of Australian historic theme parks. Since such parks "preserve or restore some aspects of a nation's or a region's heritage" (1986:471), they are almost by definition not "authentic" in Mac Cannell's sense. However, the visitors generally did perceive them as "authentic"— in the sense of being accurate reconstructions of Australia's past (1986:474-6), rather than genuine historical remains. Contrary to the authors' claim (1986:472), park operators— and some tourists— appear thus to be using the word "authenticity" differently from social scientists. However, the point of this. argument is that by accepting a particular trait of the site, namely "verissimilitude," as authenticating the site as a whole, the tourists become neither superficial fools satisfied with the spurious, in Boorstin's (1964) sense, nor victims of a prevaricating touristic establishment which "stages" authenticity in Mac Cannell's (1973) sense.

Recreational tourists, whose concern with authenticity is relatively low, may well accept even a substantially staged product and experience as "authentic." This would not be necessarily because they have been misled by the staging, but because even the faintest vestige of, or resemblance to what experts would consider an "authentic" trait of the product, may suffice for them to play the make-believe game of having an "authentic" experience. Therefore, such tourists may playfully consent to buy fake products or experiences as if they were genuine, merely because their resemblance to the genuine thing gives these tourists an inkling of authenticity. The recreation which Gottlieb's (1982) tourists derive from being a "King for a Day" or a "Peasant for a Day," one may argue, derives from their feeling "how it must have been to be a king (or a peasant)"; even though they are perfectly aware of the fact that their own, purchased experience has been staged for their benefit.

Finally, diversionary tourists may enjoy touristic products even if these are, in their own view, completely contrived, insofar as they appeal to them merely as "funny," "cute," or "lovely." A good example of such a product is a pair of embracing monkeys with sun-glasses, made of coconut shells, which are sold in touristic destinations all over southern Thailand, but are totally unrelated to any aspect of local Thai culture, except perhaps that monkeys serve as coconut-pickers in that part of Thailand.

(Con't) In the view of some experts on ethnic art (e.g., Willett 1976), authenticity and falseness are not a dichotomous pair of concepts. Rather, there exists a continuum leading from complete authenticity, through various stages of partial authenticity, to complete falseness. The question therefore arises: Which are the diacritical traits which, for a given individual, in particular a tourist, Make a cultural product acceptable as "authentic"? The question here is not whether the individual does or does not "really" have an authentic experience in Mac Cannell's (1973) sense, -but rather what endows his experience with authenticity in his own view. Thus one can follow Gottlieb's approach: she " . . . assumes that the vacationers' own feelings and views about vacations are 'authentic,' whether or not the observer judges them to match the host culture" (Gottlieb 1982: 168). However, while Gottlieb does not make any further inquiries into the bases of tourists' feelings and views, it is proposed here to open these to investigation. According to the approach developed above, tourists will differ in the number and kinds of traits necessary to their mind to authentic cultural product.

As the preceding section notes, for tourist professional expert, only a cultural product which appear authentic in all of its varied aspects, would be acceptable as "authentic." This may also be the case with deeply concerned tourists. Thus, on one of the trekking lips in which this author participated in the course of his study of the penetration of tourism into the hill-tribe area of northern Thailand, a French tourist, a teacher by profession, complained about the fact that the people in a tribal village, which had been opened to tourism only a few weeks earlier, used industrially produced plastic cups instead of indigenously produced bamboo cups. The mere adoption of plastic cups, although unrelated to the penetration of tourism, already offended his sense of cultural authenticity.

While this kind of tourist often serves as the prototype of the ideal tourist, he is, statistically speaking, a minority among the huge population of contemporary mass tourism. Such a demand for "total authenticity" will be most prominent among "existentia," or "experimental" tourists, seriously concerned with the Other, as/at least a potential elective center.

（con't）Tourism typically involves some encounter with the "Other." Theteeper the experience sought by the tourist, the more strongly, will he tend to embrace this "Other," and to turn it into his "elective center." But, since the salience of that Other-turned-Center thereby increases for the tourist, his concern with its authenticity will grow proportionately. This, in turn, will induce the tourist to adopt stricter criteria for the judgement of authenticity than do those tourists for whom the experience is less salient. It follows that"existential" tourists (Cohen 1979a:189-192), who tend spiritually to abandon modernity and embrace the Other as their elective center and, as it were, "switch worlds" (Berger and Luckmann 1966:144), or "go native" (Redfoot 1984:299 ff) will be the most "purist" of tourists. They will strive to move furthest away from the beaten track and to get in most closely with the natives (e.g., Blakeway 1980; Schneebaum1970). In that, they resemble the anthropologist, curator, and ethnog-rapher. However, unlike the latter, they do not take up the attitude of subjective detachment (Redfoot 1984:299) to the cultural products they encounter. While their experience may thus be fuller and more sponta-neous, they also lack the professional attitude and critical capacity necessary to determine whether the traits by which they determine the "authenticity" of an object or an attraction are genuine or false. Hence they will more easily fall prey to sophisticated forms of covertly "staged authenticity" (MacCannell 1973). Here, the locals or the tourist estab-lishment "stage" precisely those aspects of the cultural product which serve the existential tourists as marks of authenticity, according to their own, strict criteria. Indeed, authenticity-eager tourists like Holland-er's (1981) "political pilgrims," may tend to idealize the destination, and thus eagerly embrace as genuine the very prevarications with which they are served. This kind of staging is particularly insidious, because it acts upon the profound will to believe of serious tourists, and not on the make-believe attitude of the more frivolous ones. The disenchant-ment of such existential tourists may therefore be particularly bitter (cf. Cohen 1979a:196).The further one moves down the scale of modes of touristic experi-ences, the less strict the criteria of authenticity employed by the tourist will tend to become. The criteria of "experimental" tourists who experi-ment with various potential elective centers (Cohen 1979a:189) will still resemble those of existential tourists. "Experiential" tourists (Cohen 1979a:186-8), who seek to participate vicariously in the authentic life of others, will also tend to employ fairly strict criteria of authenticity, close to those of "existential" tourists. However, "recreational" tourists (Cohen 1979a:183-5), who seek in the Other mainly enjoyable restora-tion and recuperation, and hence tend to approach the cultural prod-ucts encountered on their trip with a playful attitude of make-believe (Cohen 1985), will entertain much broader criteria of authenticity. Indeed, they might well be prepared playfully to accept a cultural product as authentic, for the sake of the experience, even though "deep down" they are not convinced of its authenticity (Cohen 1985:295: cf. also Goldberg 1983:485). Hence, a less ingenuous "staging of authen-ticity" will be sufficient to make this kind of tourist accept a product as authentic— though their conviction of its authenticity will also-be less deep than that of "existential" tourists. Finally, "diversionary" tourists (Cohen 1979a:185-6) who seek mere diversion and oblivion on their trip, will remain totally in equanimity and unconcerned with the prob-lem of authenticity of their experiences.

(con't) Anthropologists, like curators and ethnographers, even if para-Anthropologists, like curators and ethnographers, even if paradigmatic of the modern tourist, appear to entertain more rigorous criteria of authenticity than do ordinary members of the/traveling pub-lic. They belong to the wider category of modern, alienated intellectu-als— indeed, their alienation from modernity often induces them to choose their respective professions.Alienation may well be a structural consequence of the pluralization of modern life-worlds and the "weightlessness" of modern institutions (Berger 1973; Berger et al 1973). However not all moderns are personal-?ly equally alienated or aware of their alienation. Those who continue to identify unreflectively with one or another of the centers of modernity such as the work-ethic or the ethos of material and occupational achievement, are personally less alienated than those who are not so identified. Those who are disposed to reflect upon their life-situation are more aware of their alienation than those who do not tend to such contemplation.Intellectuals, here exemplified by curators, ethnographers, and an-thropologists, will be generally more alienated, and more aware of their alienation, than the rank-and-file middle-classes, and especially the lower middle class, who still strive to attain the material gains which those beyond them already enjoy.Alienation and the qUest for authenticity, however, appear to be positively related (cf. Cohen 1979a:181-2). It follows that intellectuals and other more alienated individuals will engage on a more serious quest of authenticity than most rank-and-file members of society. It is hypothesized further that, the greater their concern for authenticity, the stricter will be the criteria by which they conceive of it. Less alienated and hence less concerned individuals, including most rank-and-file tourists, will be content with much wider, less strict criteria of authen-ticity. This was probably meant by Nettekoven (1973) when he argued that "tourists are not ethnologists" and by Desai (1974:3), when he observed 'that the tourist is not a "stickler for authenticity."However, though most tourists may not seek "'authentic' experiences in any ethnographic sense," Goldberg.(1983:486) cautions that "neither are they content with mere entertainment " Tourists indeed ap-pear to seek authenticity in varying degrees of intensity, depending on the degree of their alienation from modernity. 1Following the preceding analysis, it can be argued that they will also c nceive "authenticity" in different degrees of strictness. In other words,  ndividuals who are less concerned with the authenticity of their tourist'  e .eriences, will be more prepared to accept as "authentic" a cultural pro uct or attraction which more concerned tourists, applying stricter cr), eria, will reject as "contrived."This argument can be restated in terms of the author's earlier typology of "modes of touristic experience" (Cohen 1979a; In Pressb) in which five types. of such modes were proposed, according to the depth of experience the individual seeks in tourism. 

（Con't）One of the paradoxes of the progressive professionalization of curators of primitive and ethnic art in the world's museums has been that a growing number of objects were declared to be "fakes," not because any new information had been discovered on the objects themselves, but rather because the connotation of the concept of fakery had been gradually extended. "Purist" curators and art historians tended to conceive of authenticity in primitive and ethnic art in ever more rigorous terms. Thus, McLeod, the director of the Museum of Mankind and an expert of African art, defined "genuine" (i.e., authentic) African art as" . . . any piece made from traditional materials by a native craftsman for acquisition and use by members of local society (though not necessarily by members of his own group) that is made and used with no thought that it ultimately may be disposed of for gain to Europeans or other aliens" (McLeod 1976:31).

Another author, also discussing African art, declared as authentic "Any object created for a traditional purpose and by a traditional artist . . . ," but only if it " . . . conforms to traditional forms" (Cornet 1975:52, 55; emphases in the original). Like McLeod, Cornet also argues that, in order to be acceptable as authentic, the product should not be manufactured "specifically for the market" (1975:52).

Both authors hence emphasize the absence of commoditization as a crucial consideration in judgments of authenticity. It is noteworthy that Cornet proposes his definition despite his observation that there are cases where " . . . fakes [i.e., inauthentic objects] have become authen-
tic" (197.5:54), and cites as example objects produced by African artisans, in the past, for European patrons.

Such strict attitude  to authenticity, while in one sense professional, reflect in another the general modern preoccupation with authenticity which, indeed, appears to have contributed to the growing rigour of professional attitudes. Authenticity, for curators and ethnographers, is principally a quality of pre-modern life, and of cultural products produced prior to the penetration of modern Western influences: hence the common emphasis on cultural products which were "hand made" from "natural" materials. This emphasis obviously reflects the alienation of modern man from artificial and machine-made products. "The machine . . . could  make  only  inauthentic things,  dead  things . . " (Trilling 1972:127). The same is essentially true for those anthropologists who, in quest of an "ethnographic present," seek to recapture the society and culture of the people whom they study as these had been before the "contaminating" c9ntact with the Western world.

Here too, scientific consensus mingles with the more personal, modern quest for the "pristine" and "authentic." Curators, ethnographers, and anthropologists thus constitute the most fitting prototypes of Mac Cannell's tourist who seek authenticity in other times and other places. Redfoot (1984:299-301), indeed, classifies anthropologists as "third-order tourists" who, according to Levi-Strauss, " . . . reject the artifices in their own culture and seek an alternative reality in 'quest"; once there, however, they (unlike Redfoot's "fourth-order tourists") " . . . refrain from "going native" (1984:300). The anthropologist, thus " . . . digs deeper [than other tourists] in a quest for authenticity . . . " though, his quest " . . . is doomed to failure because of the subjective distancing from the 'primitive' built into the anthropologist's role" (1984:301).(Erik Cohen, 1988, Authenticity & Commodization in Tourism, Annals of Burtsm &march, Vol. 15, pp. 371-386, 1988)

（con't）Since modern society is inauthentic, those modern seekers who desire to overcome the opposition between their authenticity-seeking self and society have to look elsewhere for authentic life. The quest for authenticity thus becomes a prominent motif of modern tourism, as MacCannell (1973, 1976) so incisively showed. However, here is also found the source of the confusion which the unexplicated use of this term introduced into tourism studies. In Mac Cannell's writings, as indeed in those of the researchers who followed his line of analysis (e.g., Redfoot 1984), the "quest for authenticity" is a "primitive" concept, which is at best illustrated, but left undefined. However, one appears to understand intuitively what is meant by it. It is a quest for that unity between the self and societal institutions, which endowed pre-modern existence with "reality" (Berger 1973:85). The alienated modern tourist in quest of authenticity hence looks for the pristine, the primitive, the natural, that which is as yet untouched by modernity. He hopes to find it in other times and other places (MacCannell 1976:160), since it is absent from his own world.

The difficulty with this use of the concept of "authenticity" in tourism studies is that it is a philosophical concept which has been uncritically introduced into sociological analysis. Furthermore, in tourism studies, the concept is used to characterize a criterion of evaluation used by the modern tourist as observer. The question, whether the "tourees" observed by the tourist at all possess such a concept, and if so, which traits of their own culture they consider to be "authentic" is rarely, if ever raised. Finally, the social analyst is tacitly assumed to understand the tourist's quest for "authenticity" because both belong to the modern world; they both appear to conceive of "authenticity" in similar, unproblematic terms. "Authenticity" thus takes up a given or "objective" quality attributable by moderns to the world "out there." The only apparent difference between the tourist and the social analyst is that the latter is more circumspect than the former. He is therefore assumed tb-)be able to penetrate beyond appearances, and discover the deception of "staged authenticity" (MacCannell 1973) perpetrated by the tourees, or the tourist establishment. The unsuspecting tourist, who is less sophisticated and knowledgeable than the analyst, is assumed to be taken in by such prevarications. It then follows that, if the tourist had the analyst's debunking knowledge, he would reject the "staged authenticity" of the

sights as contrived and lacking in authenticity. MacCannell and others who adopted his conceptual framework did not raise the possibility that the tourist and social analyst may conceive of authenticity in different terms.

In contrast to MacCannell, it is suggested that "authenticity" is a socially constructed concept and its social (as against philosophical) connotation is, therefore, not given, but "negotiable." The manner of the negotiation of its meaning should hence ?e made a major topic in the sociological and anthropological study of tourism. Several specific issues have to be distinguished.

Differential Conceptions of Authenticity                           

According to Trilling (197    •93) the provenance of the word "authenticity" " . . . is in the museuih, where persons expert in such matters test whether objects of art [and by extension, ethnographic objects] are what they appear to be or are claimed to be, and therefore . . . worth the admiration they are being given." The approah to "authenticity" current until recently among cutators and ethno  aphers will hence help to clarify the socially constructed nature of the concept. 

（Con't）Three, "staged authenticity" is said to thwart the tourist's genuine desire for authentic experiences. MacCannell (1973:597) argued that "Touristic consciousness is motivated by the desire for authentic experiences, and the tourist may believe that he is moving in that direction . . . " However, it is often the case that " . . . what is taken to be entry into a back region is really entry into a front region that has been totally set up in advance [i.e., has been staged] for touristic visitation." According to MacCannell (1973:593), the tourist, in his desire for authentic experience, is the Modern embodiment of the religious pilgrim. Tourism thus appears to become a modern surrogate for religion (MacCannell 1973:589; cf. also Cohen In Press b.). However, it is implicit in Mac Cannell's analysis that there is no salvation in tourism: the tourist establishment dominates the tourist industry, and by misleading tourists to accept contrived attractions as "authentic," creates a "false touristic consciousness." A fully developed mass tourist system surrounds the tourist with a staged tourist space, from which there is "no exit." The modern tourist-pilgrim is thus damned to inauthenticity: "Tourists make brave sorties out from their hotels hoping, perhaps, for an authentic experience, but their paths can be traced in advance over small increments of what is for them increasingly apparent authenticity proffered by [staged] tourist settings. Adventurous tourists progress eorn stage to stage, always in the public eye, and greeted everywhere by their obliging hosts" (MacCannell 1973:602).

It follows from these assumptions that commoditization, engendered by tourism, allegedly destroys not only the meaning of cultural products for the locals but, paradoxically, also for the tourists.  It thus emerges that, the more tourism flourishes, the more it allegedly becomes a colossal deception. These assumptions are highly persuasive and appealing to both sociologists and critics of modern society. But the conclusion seems far-fetched and hard to accept; unless, of course, one adopts a view of modern society as completely absurd and dominated by sinister powers, so that its members are surreptitiously misled to believe that they have genuinely authentic experiences, while in fact being systematically debarred from having them. However, before one goes to that extreme, it would be prudent to examine critically the above assumptions, in order to reach perhaps some more realistic conclusions.

AUTHENTICITY

"Authenticity" is an eminently modern value (cf. Appadurai 1986:45 Berger, 1973; Trilling 1972), whose emergence is closely related to the impact of modernity upon the unity of social existence. As institutions become, in Nietzsche's words, "weightless" and lose their reality (Berger 1973:86; Trilling 1972:138), the individual is said to turn into himself. "If nothing on 'the outside' can be relied upon to give weight to the individual's sense of reality, he is left no option but to burrow into himself in search of the real. Whatever this ens realissimurn m y then turn out to be, it must necessarily be in opposition to any extern al [modern] social formation. The opposition between self and society has now reached its maximum. The concept of authenticity is one way of articu-
lating this experience" (Berger 1973:88).

Modern man is thus seen, from the perspective of a contemporary existential philosophical anthropology, as a being in quest of authenticity. 

Erik Cohen is the George S. Wise Professor of Sociology (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem 91905, Israel). He has done sociological and anthropological research in Israel and Peru and a series of studies on tourism, urban life, Christianity, and social change in Thailand.

INTRODUCTION： Much of the contemporary literature on the nature of modern tour-ism and its impact upon host societies relies on several important assumptions. In a most general way, these assumptions can be formulated as follows:First, tourism is said to lead to "commoditization" (Greenwood, 1977) of areas in the life of a community which prior to its penetration by tourism have been within the domain of economic relations regulated by criteria of market exchange (cf. Appadurai 1986). Local culture generally serves as the principal example of such commoditization.

In particular, "colorful" local costumes and customs, rituals and feasts, and folk and ethnic arts become touristic services or commodities, as they come to be performed or produced for touristic consumption. Sexual services, in the form of tourist-oriented prostitution, are another major example of commoditization. The critical issue is that corn-moditization allegedly changes the meaning of cultural products and of human relations, making them eventually meaningless: "We already know from world-wide experience that local culture . . . is altered and often destroyed by the treatment of it as a touristic attraction. It is made meaningless to the people who once believed in it . . . ",(Green-wood 1977:131). Furthermore, according to the same sourq, since local culture can be commoditized by anyone, without the consent of the participants (1977:137), it can be expropriated, and the local people exploited.

Second, commoditization is said to destroy the authenticity of local cultural products and human relations; instead a surrogate, covert "staged authenticity" (MacCannell 1973) emerges. As cultural products lose their meaning for the locals, and as the need to present the tourist with ever more spectacular, exotic and titillating attractions grows (Boorstin 1964:103),  contrived  cultural  products  are  increasingly "staged" for tourists and decorated so as to look authentic. Fake "airport art" (Graburn 1967) is sold to tourists as if it were a genuine cultural product. Above all, tourists, who are apparently permitted to penetrate beyond the "front" areas of the visited society into its "back" (MacCannell 1973:597-8), are in fact cheated. Such b ck regions are frequently inauthentic "false backs," insidiously staged  or tourist consumption. Thus, for example, localities may be staged a  being remote, or "non-touristic," in order to induce tourists to "discover' em (MacCannell 1973:594); and native inhabitants of "exotic" places, re taught to "play the native" in order to appear "authentic" to the/tourists (cf. Cohen 1982a:19-21).

Erik Cohen·AUTHENTICITY AND COMMODITIZATION IN TOURISM

Abstract: Three basic assumptions, common in the literature on tourism, regarding "commodi-tization," "staged authenticity," and the inability of tourists to have authentic experiences are re-examined. Authenticity is conceived as a negotiable rather than primitive concept, the rigor of its definition by subjects depending on the mode of their aspired touristic experience. New cultural developments may also acquire the patina of authenticity over time— a process designated at "emergent authenticity." It is also argued that commoditization does not necessarily destroy the meaning of cultural products, although it may change it or add new meanings to old ones.

Conclusions contrary to the deductions following from the above assumptions are spelled out, and a new approach to the study of authenticity and meaning in tourism, which could help the formulation of a more discerning tourism policy, is advocated. Keywords: authenticity, commoditization, cultural tourism, tourist experience, tour-ism policy, tourist arts and crafts. （See next column）

（Con't）On the other hand, Gitelson and Crompton [1984] categorized repeat visitors into three subgroups: infrequent, frequent, and very frequent, however they did not specify the frequency of visits for each group. Oppermann [1999] discussed a conceptual typology as a function of multiple visits, based on a New Zealand resident data: somewhat loyal (infrequent), loyal (regular), and very loyal (annual and biannual); and further extended this typology to cover the entire population by introducing four other traveler types: non-purchasers, disillusioned, unstable, and disloyal.

According to Jones and Sasser [1995], in non-competitive markets, satisfaction has little impact on loyalty as the customers are captive customers without having choice. On the other hand, in competitive markets, there is great difference between the loyalty of “satisfied” and “completely satisfied” customers. Totally satisfied customers are more likely to repurchase products than merely satisfied customers [Jones and Sasser 1995: 129].

The Effect of Word-of Mouth Communication on Repurchase Intention: Word-of-communication is a powerful force on consumer behaviour in tourism. In tourism research, loyalty has been measured using two main indicators: willingness to recommend or word-of-mouth, and likelihood of return [Bigne’ et al. 2001, Chen and Gursoy 2001, Baloglu et al. 2003, Petrick 2004: 157]. Word-of-communication is defined by Anderson [1998] as informal communication between private parties concerning evaluations of goods and services. It is likely that satisfied visitors will come back and will tell others about their favourable or unfavourable experiences [Kozak 2001: 169]. Ashworth and Goodall [1988] observed that if a tourist is dissatisfied they will not recommend the destination to others. Word-of-mouth has more significant impact on tourist perceptions than other forms of mass communication since, it is the most effective communication for the tourism industry. When making purchase decision for services, consumers generally rely more heavily on verbal messages [Davis, Guiltman and Jones, 1979: 147]. According to Bateson [1995], consumers believe that personal sources provide the most adequate and up-to-date information. Moreover, word-of-mouth techniques are perceived as more credible and less biased [Lovelock 1991: 152]. Payne [1993] also suggested that dissatisfied customers tell more than two times as many people about their poor experiences than those who are satisfied.

CONCLUSIONS

Word-of-mouth communication behavior of customers is positively affected by high service quality [Bone 1992, Helm 2000, Harrison-Walker 2001: 136]. Positive word-of-mouth communication will attract new customers and, hence, lead to higher revenues. Therefore customer satisfaction is central for realizing profits. Moreover, extremely dissatisfied customers are even more likely to engage in word-of-mouth than satisfied customers [Anderson 1998, Harrison-Walker 2001: 114]. Negative word-of-mouth will probably lead to lower customer loyalty and negative consequences for the attraction of new customers. Past research further revealed that customer loyalty is positively related to word-of-mouth communication [Zeithaml et al. 1996, Harrison-Walker 2001: 133]. Not only loyal customers are satisfied with the service but also they feel attached to the service provider.

(TYPOLOGY OF TOURISTS AND THEIR SATISFACTION LEVEL，by Dr Renata Grzywacz，Dr Patrycja Żegleń，Wydział Wychowania Fizycznego & Uniwersytet Rzeszowski Source: https://www.researchgate.net)

BIBLIOGRAPHY （Please Refer to the Original Article）

At the level of the economy as a whole and for the individual attraction, repeat visits in tourism have also been accepted as an important phenomenon [Darnell and Johnson 2001: 122]. In addition, many travel destinations rely heavily on repeat visitors [Darnell and Johnson 2001, Gitelson and Crompton 1984: 158]. Many studies in recent years have focused on the antecedents of destination revisit intention to understand why travelers make repeat visits. As a result of these studies, major antecedents of revisit intention are satisfaction, quality related constructs, perceived value, past vacation experience, safety, image, attachment, and cultural difference.

According to Oppermann [1999], time is significant in tourist retention and loyalty because “time firstly plays a role in identifying appropriate time intervals during which a purchase may or may not take place’’. Darnell and Johnson [2001] also noted the significance of temporal viewpoint to destination management, indicating, ‘‘the time profile of repeat visiting has important implications for visit flows.’’ The study of Baloğlu and Erickson [1998] also showed that most international travelers to one destination are more likely to switch to another destination for their next trip, but many of them hope to revisit the same destinations in the future. However, their explanation on revisit intentions reflects the two implicit assumptions of former rerearches [Highes 1995, Schmidhauser 1976, Woodside and MacDonald 1994: 96]: (1) revisit intention lapses over time; and (2) the strength of revisit intention tends to be constant once it is created. The first assumption which argues revisit intention lapses over time is implied by the recency-frequency-monetary value (RFM) paradigm. It is one of the essential operational principles for many loyalty building programs [Hughes 1995: 75]. According to RFM paradigm individuals who buy one’s product more recently, more frequently, and spend more money are more likely to repurchase or respond to an incentive to repurchase. Furthermore, the notion of recency indicates that recent customers tend to repurchase and that the strength of their repurchasing intention will decrease over time.

The second assumption is closely related with tourist typologies. There are two distinct tourist segments according to Woodside and MacDonald [1994]: first one is visitors returning to a destination due to familiarity and the other one is visitors not returning due to familiarity. Schmidhauser [1976] argued that there are, at least, two different types of tourists: continuous repeaters who choose the same destination over and over again and continuous switchers who do not come back even though they are satisfied with the destination in their current visit.

（Con't）Also, Jones and Sasser [1995] used the customers’ stated intent to repurchase a product as a measure of the behavioural component of loyalty. They argued that intent to repurchase is a very strong indicator of future behaviour. Assael [1995] reported on a range of studies that were conducted which supported the view that intentions could be used to predict overt behaviour. In addition, Gitelson and Crompton [1984] pointed out that although satisfaction with a particular destination appears to be a necessary condition for explaining much repeat visitation, it is not sufficient to explain the phenomenon since many respondents reported satisfactory experiences and yet did not return to the same destination.They also suggested that there were five factors that can motivate repeat visitation:

1. it reduces the risk of an unsatisfactory experience;
2. there is an assurance that they would find their ‘kind of people’;
3. an emotional childhood attachment;
4. to experience some aspects of the destination which had been omitted on a previous occasion;
5. to expose others to the satisfactory experiences that tourists had previously.

As parallel with these explanations Witt and Witt [1995] suggested why people paid repeat visit to a destination: once people have been on holiday to a particular country and liked it, they tend to return to that destination. Similarly, Oppermann [1998] argued, ‘if tourists were happy with the previous (or even the immediate past) destination choice, they may not even look for information on other destinations for their next destination selections’. These arguments suggest that previous experience with a destination may affect the intention and the actual decision to revisit it.

According to Oppermann [2000] there are various alternatives for measuring a tourist’s loyalty. First, loyalty can be measured through behaviour, by considering repeat purchasing. Secondly, it can be measured through attitude, analysing the tourist’s predisposition towards the tourism destination. Finally a composite measure is proposed, which integrates behaviour and attitude, considering that the tourist must have positive attitude and behaviour towards a destination for it to be considered true loyalty.
Loyalty is a concept related closely to customer satisfaction, and there is even a consensus that a high degree of satisfaction results in loyal customers. This makes loyalty the central concept of marketing and any discussion of it must take into account the elements involved in the process of its formation, such as customer satisfaction [Petrick and Backman 2002, Baker and Crompton 2000: 178] and brand image [Bigne’ et al. 2001: 68].
For marketing implications, the model of Fishbein and Ajzen [1975] suggests that attitudinal loyalty towards the tourism destination is directly and positively affected by the the image of the tourism destination. According to this model, a particular behaviour is determined by a single attitude. An attitude towards an object may determine different behaviours, such as the repetition of the visit, word of mouth or complaints. The attitude, in turn, is determined by beliefs, are image and satisfaction. Image and satisfaction indirectly influence behavioural loyalty through attitudinal loyalty.
The Effect of Service Quality on Customer Satisfaction and Loyalty: in tourism context there is a strong relationship between the customer satisfaction, loyalty and service quality. According to Dimanche and Havitz [1994] , quality of service is generally assumed to affect business performance and loyalty in a positive way. Hurley and Hooman [1998] point out that perception of service quality affect feelings of satisfaction, which will then affect loyalty and future buying decisions.
Service quality is linked to six performance indicators according to PIMS (Profit Impact of Marketing Strategies) database which contains information about strategy and performance on 2600 business worldwide: (1) customer loyalty, (2) repeat purchases, (3) reduced vulnerability to price wars, (4) ability to command high relative price without affecting market share, (5) lower marketing costs, and (6) market share improvements.
Some people prefer repeat visitation to the same destination, whereas others prefer to try some new place every time however, repeat purchase is crucial component for contemprary marketing in order to be successful. According to Markin [1969] prior satisfaction with a vacation destination may lead to repeat purchases. Also Cronin and Taylor [1992] suggested that customer satisfaction affected repurchase intent significantly. Reichheld and Sasser [1990] and Shoemaker and Lewis [1999] arrange the benefits of repeat purchase as (1) attracting previous customers is more cost-effective than gaining new ones; (2) 5% increase in customer retention could increase profit by 25–85%; and (3) customer retention tends to yield positive word-of-mouth referral.

When there is no explicit comparison made because of a lack of motivation and/or capability of the customers to evaluate their own choice, customers cannot be fully aware of their own satisfaction, which is called latent satisfaction.

An empirical test by Bloemer and Kasper [1995] indicated that the positive influence of manifest satisfaction on repurchase intention is greater than that of latent satisfaction, so the general idea that satisfaction has a positive relationship with repurchase intention is still valid. Similarly, many researches show that the positive relationship between satisfaction and revisit intention has been found in tourism destination choice settings.
Loyalty is also critical issue for tourism as many sectors. Rundle-Thiele and Lockshin [2000] defines loyalty as the future behaviour commitment to purchase a product or service, or the link with a provider on all occasions when other alternatives are possible. Equivalencely, customer loyalty is defined by Backman and Compton [1991] thus involves a positive attitude towards the firm’s product or service, followed by favourable behavior that leads to purchasing it and reccomending to others. Gaining the loyalty of customers today takes place in both product and services markets and is identified frequently with the retention of customers because both concepts refer to the repetition of the purchase of products or services from a single firm by customers over a prolonged period of time [Petrick 2004, Tsaur et al. 2002: 233]. Reid and Reid [1993] also pointed out the importance of customer loyalty because it is also a stable source of revenue for firms, serving at the same time as an information channel that acts informally by recommending the product or service to family and friends.
In addition, Yim and Kannan [1999] argued that the definition of loyalty should include both exclusive and reinforcing loyalties. Exclusive loyalty was further termed as hardcore loyalty, for those consumers who have been won over by a particular alternative over time. Reinforcing loyalties are potential switchers that tend to purchase more than one alternative, exhibit divided loyalties among a few alternatives, and have an increased tendency to repurchase the alternative after their initial purchase. Yim and Kannan’s study [1999] pointed out that the reinforcing loyalty was associated with variety seeking, which is similarly based on the optimum levels of stimulation [Zuckerman 1971: 66].
Enlightened by the findings of Gyte and Phelps [1989] and the reinforcing loyalty of Yim and Kannan [1999], Feng and Jang [2004] argued a trichotomous TDRI tourist segmentation with a 5-year time frame: continuous repeater (travelers with consistently high revisit intentions over time), deferred repeater (travelers with low revisit intentions in the short-term but high revisit intentions in the long- term), and continuous switcher (travelers with consistently low revisit intentions over time). Among the three segments, deferred repeaters tend to reinforce visit intentions. Thus, they are also potential switchers who tend to visit more than one destination, showing divided loyalties and displaying an increased tendency to revisit the destination after their initial visit. Therefore, focusing on the deferred repeaters, this study is based on the idea that tourists’ visit intentions vary depending on time and that the intention could be split from a temporal perspective into short-term, mid-term, and long-term revisit intentions.

The tourist satisfaction can also be affected by a positive or negative image. Previous experience must be taken into consideration because it causes tourist to have a different perception from those who have never visited it [Baloglu 2001: 45]. Since the image of the tourism destination influences the satisfaction experienced by the tourist. It has been found that the image is associated positively with consumer satisfaction in luxury hotels [Mazanec 1995: 65]. It is therefore necessary to generate studies of image and its relation to the satisfaction obtained in order to know the visitors’ intentions to return and to recommend the destination [Bigne´ et al. 2001: 145]. If the tourists are satisfied with the destination, it is difficult to affect the attraction felt for a place for holiday-making [Vogt, Andereck 2003: 126]. An aspect related to satisfaction is when an attempt is made to establish an emotional bond with tourists through the image of the destination, projecting ‘emotional satisfaction’ [Ekinci 2003: 96] and not only through the basic needs, such as food, rest or enjoyment [Chaudhary 2000, Kandampully and Suartanto 2000: 75].
Satisfaction and Revisit Intention: there is a general consensus that satisfaction brings positive behavioral outcomes and the understanding of satisfaction provides managerial guidance in the tourism industry. Oliver [1997] defined satisfaction as customer judgment about product or servicefulfillment. Similarly, Engel, Blackwell, and Miniard [1990] proposed a definition that satisfaction is the outcome of the subjective evaluation about whether or not the chosenalternative meets or exceeds the expectation.
Many theories are developed to explain satisfaction. The expectation-disconfirmation paradigm and the equity theories are two of these theories. Engel, et al. [1990] defined satisfaction as the most frequently cited one in accounting for satisfaction is expectation-disconfirmation paradigm (EDP) that suggests a comparison between expectation and performance. According to Oliver [1980], EDP suggests confirmation, positive disconfirmation, and negative disconfirmation. If service or product perceptions exactly meet expectations customers’ expectations are confirmed. When performance exceeds expectations positive disconfirmation occurs, on the other hand, if expectations exceed performance negative disconfirmation occurs. Thus, confirmation and positive disconfirmation result in satisfaction, while negative disconfirmation leads to dissatisfaction. Another theory on customer satisfaction is based on the equity theory [Oliver and Swan 1989: 100]. Satisfaction occurs when customers receive more value than what they spent in terms of price, time, and effort. According to Grewal, Monroe, and Krishnan [1998], perceived value is ‘‘the perception of psychological satisfaction obtained from taking advantage of the financial terms of the price deal.’’ The equity theory suggests that value is an appropriate measure to evaluate satisfaction [Heskett, et al. 1994, Kumar 2002, Oliver and Swan 1989, Su 2004].
In addition to satisfaction theories, the relationship between satisfaction and repurchase intention has been explored in various product and service markets. By proposing the existence of manifest satisfaction and latent satisfaction, Bloemer and Kasper [1995] argued that the relationship between consumer satisfaction and repurchase intention is not monotonic because of the disparity of customers’ motivation and capability to evaluate the purchased product/service brand relative to the reference point. Manifest satisfaction occurs when an explicit comparison is made between expectation and performance and when the customers can be conscious of the outcome of their own evaluation and satisfaction.

Tourism products are highly risky because of their intangible characteristics. Intangibility makes it difficult to evaluate the product before purchase since tourism products are essentially produced and consumed simultaneously [Mitchell, Greatorex 1993: 147]. Tourism products are therefore assumed to be associated with a higher risk when purchasing than tangible products. In high risk situations, consumers’ need to search for external information is higher than in low-risk situations [Dowling, Staelin 1994, Beatty, Smith 1987].

Moutinho [1987] refers to five risk components for tourism services. They are:

1) functional risk-the risk that the product will not perform as expected,

2) physical risk-the risk that the product will be harmful,

3) financial risk-the risk that the product will not be worth its cost, either in time or money,

4) social risk-the risk that a poor product choice may result in embarressment before others, and

5) psychological risk-the risk that a poor product choice will harm the consumers’ ego.

In tourism context, Roehl and Fesenmaier [1992] also identified three basic dimensions of perceived risks: physical-equipment risk, vacation risk and destination risk. Tsaur, Tzeng, and Wang [1997] focused on two main types of risk: which refers to the possibility that an individual’s health is likely to be exposed to injury and sickness because of conditions such as law and order, weather and hygiene, as well as equipment risk, which refers to the dangers arising from the malfunctioning of equipment, such as insufficient telecommunication facilities, unsafe transportation and breakdown of vehicles.

Furthermore, Sönmez and Graefe [1998] examined types of risks associated with international travel and the overall degree of safety felt by the tourists. They identify several types of risk such as equipment/functional risk, financial risk, health risk, physical risk, political instability risk, psychological risk, satisfaction risk, social risk, terrorism and time risk. The results revealed that perceived risks were found to be strong predictors of the likelihood of avoiding destinations. The higher the perceived risk of the foreign destinations, the higher the likelihood that consumers will decide to avoid visiting it [Sönmez, Graefe 1998].

Tourist satisfaction is a critical issue for marketing. First of all, it should be identified the elements that influence the satisfaction experienced by the tourist. Satisfaction is the tourist’s sense that consumption provides outcomes against expectations and a standard of pleasure versus displeasure. Satisfaction has both cognitive nature and, on the other, affective nature. Oliver [1981] defines satisfaction from the cognitive perspective as a consumer’s comparison between performance and expectations. Oliver [1997, 1999] also made definition has an affective nature that ‘satisfaction is defined as pleasurable fulfilment”. In the case of tourism, satisfaction is a function of pre-travel expectations and post-travel experiences. Satisfaction has a one-dimensional construct, which varies along a continuum from dissatisfaction to satisfaction. When experiences compared to expactations results in feelings of gratification, the tourist is satisfied; when they result in feelings of displeasure, the tourist is dissatisfied [Pizam et al. 1978: 125]. Similarly, Hughes [1991] suggested that the tourists whose expectations are fulfilled by their experiences report satisfaction, on the other hand those whose expactations are not fulfilled report dissatisfaction.

However potential tourists are lost in options due to the fact that there are variety of destinations in many countries, huge number of holiday types, flexibility of travel, accomodations and timing arrangements. Tourists most possibly favour those holidays which offers the fullest realisations of their expectations between these so many choice. Chon [1990] explains decision-making process as a complex process consisting of the following stages: 1-) the recognition of needs. The tourist believes that a holiday purchase will satisfy his or her needs. The tourist has now tentatively decided to go on holiday. Now she/he must decide where to go. 2-) deciding where to go. This process involves: information searches, the evaluation of alternatives, the choice of a product and post-purchase evaluation

The decision-making process has been conceived in a variety of ways. Buying a holiday is for many individuals and families high-risk decision, the planning stage assumes a major role [Gitelson, Crompton 1983: 222]. On the contrary of retail purchases, a holiday purchase is a highly risky because there is no chance for tourists to observe directly what is being bought nor try it. Also previous experience of holiday-maker does not gurantee the future satisfaction. The degree of planning varies between different types of tourists. The planning of holiday incuding decisions whether to go and where to go generally takes place over a long time as a result of systematic process. Systematic information search of external sources is used much more frequently in making holiday and travel-related decisions to purchase most of other types of product [Gitelson, Crompton 1983: 155].

It should be emphasized the factors that lead an individual to decide on a holiday, variables that may suppress or heighten such factors, and the roles that family members or others may play in the holiday decision process [Hall and Page, 1999]. Howard and Sheth [1969] also drew attention to the infuence of socio-environmental variables, on the other hand Crompton [1993] explored the importance of imagery and marketing. Ryan [1997] has attempted to conceptualize the whole decision- making process in terms of a model of ‘the tourist experience’. In addition, a linear model of tourism decision-making process which is adapted from Wahab, Crampton and Rothfield [1976] suggested that all decision making goes through the same process and goes through the same steps.

The theory of perceived risk assumes that consumer perceive risk in their purchasing behaviour and generally they tend to utilize risk reduction strategies. Perceived risk is defined as ‘a consumer’s perception of the overall negativitiy of a course of action based upon an assessment of the possible negative outcomes and the likelihood that those outcomes will occur’ [Mowen, Minor 1998: 176]. As soon as consumers have experienced a certain level of risk, their behaviour changes, from delaying the purchase to using strategies designed to reduce the risk level to a ‘tolerable’ one [Mowen, Minor 1998, Roselius 1971].

Perceived risk also could be used in part as a variable in explaining decision-making processes of tourists [Maser, Weiermair 1998: 195]: the higher the perceived risk, the more information tourists seem to seek and the more rational the decision process becomes. Researchs supports correlation between the sensation-seeking personality trait and perceptions of risk. Some individuals, namely high sensation seekers, engage in risky experiences fort the stimulation involved in the experience [Zuckerman 1994: 98].

1. Explorer: the explorer arranges his or her trip alone, and attempts to get off the beaten track. Yet such tourists will still have recourse to comfortable tourist accomodation. However, much of their travel will be associated with a motivation to associate with the local people, and they will often speak the language of the host community. Nonetheless, the explorer retains many of the basic routines of his or own lifestyle.
2. Drifter: the drifter will shun contact with the tourist and tourist establishments, and identifiy with the host community. Drifters will live with the locals and adopt many of the practices of that community. Income is generated by working with the community, but often through low-skilled work, which creates a tendency to mix with the lower socioeconomic groups.

Cohen [1979] also summarised five modes of touristic experience: recreational, diversionary, experiental, experimental and existential.

Furthermore, Valene Smith [1977] described the demographic aspects of tourism, in several levels as:

• explorer: very limited numbers looking for discovery and involvement with local people,
• elite: special individually tailored visits to exotic places,
• off-beat: the desire to get away from the crowds,
• unusual: the visit with peculiar objectives such as physical danger or isolation,
• incipient mass: a steady flow travelling alone or in small organized groups using some shared services,
• mass: the general packaged tour market leading to tourist enclaves overseas,
• charter: mass travel to relaxion destinations which incorparate as many standardized western faclilities as possible.

Further, the author mentioned defined five destination interests and motivations: ethnic, cultural, historical, environmental and recreational.

During 1980s typologied extended and included historic types such as the Grand Tour, north-south tourism, and long-term youth and budget travel, some of which is selftesting [Riley 1988: 111]. Graburn [1983] differentiated two types of contemprory tourism, as the annual vacation or holiday break and the rites of passage tourism associated with major changes in status such as adulthood or career changes.

In decade of 1990, the importance of the links between lifestyle and consumption patterns was increasingly recognized through the construction of broader sets of typologies. Because of this, Gratton [1990], Cooper et al. [1998], Shaw and Williams [2002] and Schott [2002] have all rewieved or applied value and lifestyle typologies to understanding of tourism trends. Environmental concerns generated numerous new tourist types related to ‘appropriate’ or alternative tourism, such as ecotourists or green tourists [Smith and Eadington 1992]. Postmodernism has dominated the 1990s with renewed interests in levels of reality [Urry, 1990], concerns with levels of carrying capacity and sustainability, and types of tourist lifestyle and behaviour experiences [Mazanec et al. 1998].

Despite their limitations, tourist typology models are useful because of the fact that they highlight the broad diversity of tourists, in addition they provide an insight into the motivations of tourists and their behaviour and it is a way to segment tourists into different groups.

As a result of higher levels of disposable income, greater leisure time, improved opportunities for mobility, better education, having more sophisticated tastes and flow of information easily people’ attitudes about their holidays start to change.

TYPOLOGY OF TOURISTS AND THEIR SATISFACTION LEVEL by Dr Renata Grzywacz，Dr Patrycja Żegleń，Wydział Wychowania Fizycznego & Uniwersytet Rzeszowski

The paper concerns various types of tourists according to different typologies and their influence on choosing destinations. The main aim of the article is to show the process of making decisions by different tourists as well as to present the most important factors influeincing the length and kind of holidays. The authors also showed tourists’ preferences and satisfaction levels of various types of travellers.

INTRODUCTION

There are many types of tourists who have different demands of a destination. Tourist typologies are descriptors of distinctive forms of tourist consumer behaviour. They reflect different motivations, interests and styles of travel on the part of tourists. Most of the typologies attempt to group tourists according to their preferences in terms of destinations, activities while on holiday, independent travel versus package holidays. The purpose of these typologies is to divide the tourists into the different groups in order to find out what the specific tourist want.

The increase of number and specifity of typologies started by the end of the Second World War, as a result of the scientification of tourism progressed. First of all, Plog [1964] classified tourists according to destinations they prefer. He argued that there was a continuum between types of tourists from the allocentric to the psychocentric tourist. The allocentric tourists seek new destinations, and are prepared to take risks in searching for new cultures and places. On the other hand psychocentric tourists seek the familiar, and are happier in an environment where there are many likeminded tourists. They are not risk takers and adhere to the proven product, being conservative in choice. During the 1970s typologies based on age and economy dominated led by Cohen [1972] whose initial typology established two non-intitutionalized roles as drifter and Explorer, and two intitutionalized types, organized mass tourists and individual mass tourists.

1. Organized mass tourist: these are the least adventurous tourists. On buying their package holiday they remain encapsulated in an ‘environmental bubble’, divorced from the host community as they remain primarily in the hotel complex. They adhere to an itinenary fixed by the tour operators, and even their trips out of the complex are organised tours. They make few decisions about their holiday.
2. Individual mass tourist: they are similar to organised mass tourists in that they utilise the facilities made available by touroperator, but they have some control over their own itinarary. They may use the hotel as a base and hire a car for thier own trips. However, many will tend to visit the same places as the mass organised tourist in that they will visit the ‘sights’.(TYPOLOGY OF TOURISTS AND THEIR SATISFACTION LEVEL，by Dr Renata Grzywacz，Dr Patrycja Żegleń，Wydział Wychowania Fizycznego & Uniwersytet Rzeszowski Source: https://www.researchgate.net)

Senses of place: architectural design for the multisensory mind

Abstract: Traditionally, architectural practice has been dominated by the eye/sight. In recent decades, though, architects and designers have increasingly started to consider the other senses, namely sound, touch (including proprioception, kinesthesis, and the vestibular sense), smell, and on rare occasions, even taste in their work. As yet, there has been little recognition of the growing understanding of the multisensory nature of the human mind that has emerged from the field of cognitive neuroscience research. This review therefore provides a summary of the role of the human senses in architectural design practice, both when considered individually and, more importantly, when studied collectively. For it is
only by recognizing the fundamentally multisensory nature of perception that one can really hope to explain a number of surprising crossmodal environmental or atmospheric interactions, such as between lighting colour and thermal comfort and between sound and the perceived safety of public space. At the same time, however, the contemporary focus on synaesthetic design needs to be reframed in terms of the crossmodal correspondences and multisensory integration, at least if the most is to be made of multisensory interactions and synergies that have been uncovered in recent years. Looking to the future, the hope is that architectural design practice will increasingly incorporate our growing understanding of the human senses, and how they influence one another. Such a multisensory approach will hopefully lead to the development of buildings and urban spaces that do a better job of promoting our social, cognitive, and emotional development, rather than hindering it, as has too often been the case previously. (Source: Senses of place: architectural design for the multisensory mind by Charles Spence; in Cognitive Research: Principles and Implications (2020) 5:46 Keywords: Multisensory perception, Architecture, The senses, Crossmodal correspondences)

There, she writes: “So, where are we? What is the current state of the art? Sadly, the current research on multisensory environments appearing in journals such as The Senses & Society does not appear to be impacting artists and architects participating in the Chicago Biennial. Nor are the discoveries in neuroscience offering new information about how the brain relates to the physical environment.” (Malnar, 2017, p. 153).19 At the same time, however, the adverts for at least one new residential development in Barcelona promising residents the benefits of “Sensory living” (The New York Times International Edition in 2019, August 31–Septem ber 1, p. 13), suggests that at least some architects/de signers are starting to realize the benefits of engaging their clients’/customers’ senses. The advert promised that the newly purchased apartment would “provoke their senses”.

Ultimately, it is to be hoped that as the growing awareness of the multisensory nature of human perception continues to spread beyond the academic community, those working in the field of architectural design practice will increasingly start to incorporate the multisensory perspective into their work; and, by so doing, promote the development of buildings and urban spaces that do a better job of promoting our social, cognitive, and emotional well-being.

(Source: Senses of place: architectural design for the multisensory mind by Charles Spence; in Cognitive Research: Principles and Implications (2020) 5:46 Keywords: Multisensory perception, Architecture, The senses, Crossmodal correspondences)

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Conclusions

While it would seem unrealistic that the dominance, or hegemony (Levin, 1993), of the visual will be overturned any time soon, that does not mean that we should not do our best to challenge it. As critic David Michael Levin puts it: “I think it is appropriate to challenge the hegemony of vision– the ocular-centrism of our culture.

And I think we need to examine very critically the character of vision that predominates today in our world. We urgently need a diagnosis of the psychosocial path ology of everyday seeing– and a critical understanding of ourselves as visionary beings.” (Levin, 1993, p. 205).

While not specifically talking about architecture, what we can all do is to adopt a more multisensory perspective and be more sensitive to the way in which the senses interact, be it in architecture or in any other as pect of our everyday experiences.

By designing experiences that congruently engage more of the senses we may be better able to enhance the quality of life while at the same time also creating more immersive, engaging, and memorable multisensory experiences (Bloomer & Moore, 1977; Gallace & Spence, 2014; Garg, 2019; Spence, 2021; Ward, 2014). Stein and Meredith (1993, p. xi), two of the foremost multisensory
neuroscientists of the last quarter century, summarized this idea when they suggesting in the preface to their in fluential volume The merging of the senses that: “The in tegration of inputs from different sensory modalities not only transforms some of their individual characteristics, but does so in ways that can enhance the quality of life.

Integrated sensory inputs produce far richer experiences than would be predicted from their simple coexistence or the linear sum of their individual products.” There is growing interest across many fields of endeavour in design that moves beyond this one dominant, or perhaps even overpowering, sense (Lupton & Lipps, 2018). The aim is increasingly to design for experience rather than merely for appearance. At the same time, however, it is also important to note that progress has been slow in translating the insights from the academic field of multisensory research to the world of architec
tural design practice, as noted by licensed architect Joy Monice Malnar when writing about her disappointment with the entries at the 2015 Chicago Architecture Biennial.

One is addressed to the eyes, the other to the ears.” (Varga,  1996,p.114).Moreover, inhis laterwork(e.g.,Polytopes),  Xenakis pursued the idea of creating a total dissociation be tween visual and aural perception in large abstract sound and light installations (Sterken, 2007, p. 33).

 At several points throughout his book Pérez-Gómez (2016), stresses the importance of “synaesthesia” to architecture, without, unfortunately, ever really quite defining what he means by the term. All one finds are quotes such as the following: “primordial synesthetic perception”,  p. 11;  “perception is primordially  synesthetic”, p. 20; “synaesthesia as the primary modality  of human perception”, p. 71. Pérez-Gómez (2016, p.  149) draws heavily on Merleau-Ponty’s (1962, p. 235) Phenomenology of Perception, quoting lines such as:

 “The senses translate each other without any need of an interpreter, they are mutually comprehensible without the intervention of any idea.” A few pages later he cites Heidegger “truths as correspondence” (Pérez-Gómez,  2016, p. 162). This does, though, sound more like a de scription of the ubiquitous crossmodal correspondences  (Marks, 1978; Spence, 2011) than necessarily fitting with  contemporary definitions of synaesthesia, though the distinction between the two phenomena admittedly remains fiercely contested (e.g., Deroy & Spence, 2013; Sathian & Ramachandran, 2020). Abath (2017) has done a great job of highlighting the confusion linked to Merleau-Ponty’s incoherent use of the term synaesthesia, that has, in turn, gone on to “infect” the writings of other architectural theorists, such as Pérez-Gómez (2016).

Talking of synaesthetic design may then be something  of a misnomer (Spence, 2015), the fundamental idea here is to base one’s design decisions on the sometimes surprising connections between the senses that we all share, such as, for example, between high-pitched sounds and small, light, fast-moving objects (e.g.,  Spence, 2011, 2012a). It is important to highlight the fact  that while these crossmodal correspondences are often confused with synaesthesia, they actually constitute a superficially similar, but fundamentally quite different empirical phenomenon (see Deroy & Spence, 2013).

We have already come across a number of examples of crossmodal correspondences being incorporated,  knowingly or otherwise, in design decisions. Just think about the use of temperature-hue correspondences  (Tsushima et al., 2020; see Spence, 2020a, for a review).

The lightness-elevation mapping (crossmodal correspondence) might also prove useful from a design perspective (Sunaga, Park, & Spence, 2016). And colour taste and sound-taste correspondences have already been incorporated into the design of multisensory experiential spaces (e.g., Spence et al., 2014; see also Adams &  Doucé, 2017; Adams & Vanrie, 2018). Once one accepts  the importance of crossmodal correspondences to environmental design, then this represents an additional level  at which sensory atmospheric cues may be judged as  congruent (e.g., see Spence et al., 2014). One of the important questions that remains for future research,  though, is to determine whether there may be a priority of one kind of cross modal congruency over others when they are manipulated simultaneously.

Does it, I wonder, make sense to suggest that we have such priors concerning the unification of environmental/atmospheric cues? Or might it be, perhaps, that in a context in which we are regularly exposed to incongruent environmental/atmospheric multisensory cues- just think of how music is played from loudspeakers without any associated visual referent- that out priors concerning whether to integrate what we see, hear, smell, and feel will necessarily be related, in any meaningful sense, may well be reduced substantially.

See Badde Navarro, and Landy (2020) and Gau and Noppeney  (2016) on the role of context in the strength of the  common-source priors multisensory binding.

Hence, no matter whether one wants to create a tranquil space (Pheasant, Horoshenkov, Watts, & Barret, 2008)or one that arouses (Mattila & Wirtz, 2001), the senses interact as they do in various other configurations and situations (e.g., Jahncke, Eriksson, & Naula, 2015; Jiang,  Masullo, & Maffei, 2016). There are, in fact, numerous examples where the senses have been shown to interact in  the experience and rating of urban environments (e.g., Ba &Kang,2019; Van Renterghem & Botteldooren, 2016).

Crossmodal correspondences in architectural design practice The field of synaesthetic design has grown rapidly in  recent years (e.g., Haverkamp, 2014; Merter, 2017;  Spence, 2012b). According to architectural historian, Alberto Pérez-Gómez, mentioned earlier, the Philips Pavilion designed by Le Corbusier for the 1958 Brussels world’s fair (Fig. 10) attempted to deliver a multisensory experience, or atmosphere by means of “forced” synaesthesia (Pérez-Gómez, 2016,p.19).18

The interior audiovisual environment was mostly designed by Le Corbusier and Iannis Xenakis (see Sterken, 2007). From those descriptions that have survived there were many  coloured lights and projections and a looping soundscape that was responsive to people’s  ovement through the  space (Lootsma, 1998; Muecke & Zach, 2007). 

18 Though Pérez-Gómez (2016, p. 65) seems to be using a rather unconventional definition of synaesthesia, as a little later in his otherwise excellent work, he defines perceptual synaesthesia as “the integrated sensory modalities”, Pérez-Gómez (2016, p. 65). The  majority of cognitive neuroscientists would, I presume, take this as a  definition of multisensory perception, rather than synaesthesia. Synaesthesia, note, is typically defined as the automatic elicitation  of an idiosyncratic concurrent, not normally experienced, in response  to the presence of an inducing stimulus (Grossenbacher & Lovelace,  2001).

True to his oculocentric approach, mentioned at the start of this piece, Le Corbusier apparently concentrated  on the visual aspects of the “Poème Electronique”, the multimedia show that was projected inside the pavilion.

Meanwhile, his site manager, Iannis Xenakis created “Concret PH”- the soundscape, broadcast over 300 loudspeakers, that accompanied it. It is, though, unclear how much connection there actually was between the auditory and visual components of this multimedia presentation. The notion of parallel, but unconnected, stimulation to eye and ear comes through in Xenakis’ quote that: “we are capable of speaking two languages at the same time.

‘‘ Welearned awholenewwayformanagementandemployeesto work together to make dramatic new things happen. So we have committed to this type of storytelling and feedback to be done every 18 months.’’

The story helps win a local election During the time it was practicing its storytelling initiative, San Juan Regional was developing plans for a major facility expansion and renovation to create a state-of-the-art healing environment and in order to help fulfill its new mission, vision, and philosophy. Indeed, many of the employee suggestions that came out of the Raider’s story were focused on this new facility. Unfortunately, the hospital could raise only about half of the money required to complete the project.

As an alternative, San Juan Regional could go to its community for financial support through bond issues or tax initiatives. But the last three times it had done so– all for much less money than was needed this time– it had been turned down. The Raiders of the Lost Art story sessions were completed about four months before the gross receipts tax election. Subsequently, largely without any help from management, employees began to talk to each other, to their families, and to their friends and neighbors. Their tone was an enthusiastic one; they talked about what the project was and, more importantly, what the expansion project meant to patients, families, healthcare professionals, and local businesses. In other words, they talked about everything they had learned from– and contributed to– the story. When Election Day finally arrived, the mood was a mix of anticipation and anxiety. What would happen if the voters said no again?

How would the hospital ever fulfill its aspirations? And with new hospitals being built in surrounding communities, could San Juan Regional ever compete successfully should a no vote occur? As the votes were counted, it was obvious that there had been a major change in public sentiment. San Juan Regional’s tax initiative had received 84 percent of the vote! More than four out of every f ive voters supported this tax initiative, which had a higher price tag than the initiatives they had voted down in the past. Construction has now begun on a new facility that will let San Juan Regional provide a healthcare experience that lives up to its new mission, vision, and philosophy, and will enable it to recapture the Lost Art of Personalized Healthcare.

Ultimately, therefore, while the congruency of atmos pheric/environmental cues can be defined in various ways, and while incongruency is normally negatively valenced (because it is hard to process),17 issues of (in)congruency may often simply not be an issue for the occupants of specific environments. This may either be because the latter simply do not pay attention to the at
mospheric/environmental cues (and hence do not register their incongruency) and/or because they have no reason to believe that the stimuli should be combined in the first place.16

The value of connecting with nature in architectural design practice was stressed by an advertorial for an arctic hideaway that suggests that: “True luxury today is connecting with nature and feeling that your senses work again” as appeared in an article in Blue Wings magazine (December 2019, p. 38). 17

It should, though, be remembered, that sometimes incongruency may be precisely what is wanted. Just take the following quote regarding the crossmodal contrast of thermal heat combined with
visual coolness from Japan as but one example: “In the summer the householder likes to hang a picture of a waterfall, a mountain stream, or similar view in the Tokonama and enjoy in its contemplation a feeling of coolness.” (Tetsuro, 1955, p. 16).

Sensory dominance

One common feature of configurations of multisensory stimuli that are in some sense incongruent is sensory dominance. And very often, under laboratory conditions, this tends to be vision that dominates (e.g., Hutmacher, 2019; Meijer et al., 2019; Posner et al., 1976). Under conditions of multisensory conflict, the normally more reliable sense sometimes completely dominates the
experience of the other senses, as when wine experts can be tricked into thinking that they are drinking red or rosé wine simply by adding some red food dye to white wine (Wang & Spence, 2019). Similarly, people’s assess ment of building materials has also been shown to be dominated by the visual rather than by the feel (Wastiels, Schifferstein, Wouters, & Heylighen, 2013; see also Karana, 2010).

At the same time, however, while we are largely visually dominant, the other senses can also sometimes drive our behaviour. For instance, according to an article that appeared in the Wall Street Journal, many people will apparently refuse to check in to a hotel if there is funny smell in the lobby (Pacelle, 1992). Such admittedly anecdotal observations, were they to be backed up by robust empirical data, would then support the notion that olfactory atmospheric cues can, at least under
certain conditions, also dominate in terms of determining our approach-avoidance behaviour. Mean
while, a growing number of diners have also reported how they will sometimes leave a restaurant if the noise is too loud (see Spence, 2014, for a review; Wagner, 2018), resonating with the quote from Blesser and Salter (2007) that we came across a little earlier.

One other potentially important issue to bear in mind here concerns the “assumption of unity”, or
coupling/binding priors that constitute an important factor modulating the extent of crossmodal binding in the case of multisensory object/event perception, according to the literature on the currently popular Bayesian causal inference (see Chen & Spence, 2017; Rohe, Ehlis,&Noppeney, 2019, for reviews). Coupling priors can be thought of as the internalized long-term statistics of the environment (e.g., Girshick, Landy, & Simoncelli, 2011).

It was stylistic congruency that was manipulated in a couple of experiments, conducted 14At the same time, however, one might consider how marble, one of the most highly prized building materials is in some sense incongruent, given the rich textured patterning of the veined appearance of the surface is typically perfectly smooth to the touch. both online and in the laboratory by Siefkes and Arielli (2015).

These researchers had their participants expli citly concentrate on and evaluate the style of the buildings shown in one of two architectural styles (baroque or modern- a short video showing five baroque build ings; there were also a short video, focusing on five mod ern buildings instead). Their results revealed that the buildings were rated as looking more balanced, more co herent, and to a certain degree, more complete,15 when viewed while listening to music that was congruent (e.g., baroque architecture with baroque music- specifically Georg Philipp Telemann’s, Concerto Grosso in D major, TWV 54:D3 (1716)) rather than incongruent (e.g., bar oque architecture with Philip Glass track from the soundtrack to the movie Koyaanisqatsi).

Before moving on, though, it is worth noting that in this study, as in many of the other studies reported in this section, there is a possibility that the design of the experiments themselves may have resulted in the partici pants concerned paying rather more attention to the at mospheric/environmental cues (and possibly also their congruency) than is normally likely to be the case when, as was mentioned earlier, the architecture itself fades into the background.

Ecological validity may, in other words, have been compromised to a certain degree. One of the other examples of incongruency that one often comes across is linked to the growing interest in biophilic design. As Pallasmaa (1996, p. 41) notes: “A walk through a forest is invigorating and healing due to 15These were the anchors on three of the bipolar semantic differential scales used in this study.

the constant interaction of all sense modalities; Bachelard speaks of ‘the polyphony of the senses’. The eye collaborates with the body and the other senses. One’s sense of reality is strengthened and articulated by this constant interaction. Architecture is essentially an extension of nature into the man-made realm …”16 No wonder, then, that many designers have been exploring the benefits of bringing elements of nature into interior spaces in order to boost the occupants’ mood and aid relaxation (Spence, 2021).

However, one has to ask whether the benefits of adding the sounds of a tropical rainforest to a space such as the shopping area of Glasgow airport, say (Treasure, 2007), really outweigh the cognitive dissonance likely elicited by hearing such sounds in such an incongruous setting? Similarly, a jungle soundscape was incorporated into the children’s section of Harrods London Department store a few years ago (Harrods’ Toy Kingdom- The Sound Agency | Sound Branding” https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVUUG6VvFKQ).

Nature soundscapes have also been introduced into Audi car salesrooms, not to mention BP petrol station toilet facilities (Bashford, 2010;Treasure, 2007). It is worth noting here that given the important role that congruency has been shown to play at the level of multisensory object/ event perception, there is currently a stark paucity of research that has systematically investigated the relevance/ importance of congruency at the level of multisensory ambient, or environmental, cues. As the quotes earlier in this section make clear, it is something to which some architects are undoubtedly sensitive, and on which they already have an opinion. Yet the relevant underpinning research still needs to be conducted.

Sensory congruency In their book, Spaces speak, are you listening?, Blesser and Salter draw the reader’s attention to the importance of audiovisual congruency in architectural design. They write that: “Aural architecture, with its own beauty, aes thetics, and symbolism, parallels visual architecture. Vis ual and aural meanings often align and reinforce each other. For example, the visual vastness of a cathedral communicates through the eyes, while its enveloping re verberation communicates through the ears.” (Blesser & Salter, 2007, p. 3). However, they also draw attention to the incongruency that one experiences sometimes: “Al though we expect the visual and aural experience of a space to be mutually supportive, this is not always the case. Consider dining at an expensive restaurant whose decorations evoke a sense of relaxed and pampered ele gance, but whose reverberating clatter produces stress, anxiety, isolation, and psychological tension, undermin ing the possibility of easy social exchange.

The visual and aural attributes produce a conflicting response.” (Blesser & Salter, 2007, p. 3). Regardless of whether atmospheric/environmental sen sory cues are integrated or not, one general principle underpinning our response to multisensory combina tions of environmental cues is that those combinations of stimuli that are “congruent” (whatever that term means in this context) will tend to be processed more fluently, and hence be liked more, than those combina tions that are deemed incongruent, and hence will often prove more difficult, and effortful, to process (Reber, 2012; Reber, Schwarz, & Winkielman, 2004; Reber,


Winkielman, & Schwartz, 1998; Winkielman, Schwarz, Fazendeiro, & Reber, 2003; Winkielman, Ziembowicz, & Nowak, 2015).14 Indeed, it was the putative sensory incongruency between a relaxing slow-tempo music and arousing citrus scent that was put forward as a possible explanation for why Morrin and Chebat (2005) found that adding scent and sound in the setting of the shop ping mall reduced unplanned purchases as compared to either of the unisensory interventions amongst almost 800 shoppers in one North American Mall (see Fig. 9). Congruency can, of course, be defined at multiple levels. For instance, as we have seen already in this sec tion, sensory cues may be more or less congruent in terms of their arousal/relaxation potential (e.g., Hom burg, Imschloss, & Kühnl, 2012; Mattila & Wirtz, 2001). Mahvash (2007, pp. 56–57) talks about the use of con gruent cues to convey the notion of coolness: “… the Persian garden with its patterns of light and shadow, reflecting pools, gurgling fountains, scents of flowers and fruits, and gentle cool breezes 'offers an amazing rich ness of variety of sensory experiences which all serve to reinforce the pervasive sense of coolness'.” However, dif ferent sensory inputs may also be deemed congruent or not in terms of their artistic style (see Hasenfus, Martin dale, & Birnbaum, 1983; Muecke & Zach, 2007; cf. Her sey, 2000, pp. 37–41).

Once again, participants were asked about how safe it felt, about perceived social presence, and about their willingness to purchase a monthly metro pass. Even under these some what contrived experimental conditions, the presence of an ambient soundscape once again increased perceived safety as well as the participants’ self-reported intention to purchase a season ticket.

It was, though, the sound of people singing Alleluia that proved most effective in terms of enhancing perceived safety amongst those watching the videos.13 It is, however, worth bearing in mind here that many of the key results reported in this study were only borderline significant.

As such, adequately-powered repli cation would be a good idea before too much weight is given to these intriguing findings. Recently, Ba and Kang (2019) documented crossmodal interactions between ambient sound and smell in a laboratory study that was designed to capture the sensory cues that might be encountered in a typical urban environment.

These researchers decided to pair the sounds of birds, conversation, and traffic, with the smells of flowers (lilac, osmanthus), coffee, or bread, at one of three levels (low, medium, or high) in each modality. A complex array of in teractions was observed, with increasing stimulus intensity sometimes enhancing the participants’ comfort ratings, while sometimes leading to a negative response instead. While Ba and Kang’s results defy any simple synopsis, given the complex pattern of results reported, their find ings nevertheless clearly suggest that sound and scent interact in terms of influencing people’s evaluation of urban design.

The colour of the ambient lighting in an indoor envir onment has also been shown to influence the perceived ambient temperature and thermal comfort of an envir onment (e.g., Candas & Dufour, 2005; Tsushima, et al., 2020; Winzen, Albers, & Marggraf-Micheel, 2014). For instance, in one representative study, Winzen and col leagues reported that illuminating a simulated aircraft cabin in warm yellow vs. cool blue-coloured lighting 12This response is very different from the aesthetic disappointment, or even disgust, felt by the man once hypothetically described by the philosopher Immanuel Kant who was very much enjoying listening to a nightingale’s song until realizing that he was listening to a mechanical imitation instead (Kant, 2000). 13

The owner of the car park did not like the sound of this particular sonic intervention, meaning that the researchers were unable to try it out in the field. exerted a significant influence over people’s self-reported thermal comfort. The participants rated the environment as feeling significantly warmer under the warm (as com pared to the cool) lighting colour. One can only really make sense of such findings from a multisensory per spective (see Spence, 2020a, for a review). Taken together, then, the results of the representative selection of studies reported in this section demonstrate that our perception of, and/or response to, multisensory environments are undoubtedly influenced by the com bined influence of environmental/atmospheric cues in different sensory modalities.

So, in contrast to the quote from Mattila and Wirtz (2001) that we came across a few pages ago, there is now a growing body of empirical research out there demonstrating that atmospheric cues presented in different sensory modalities, such as music, scents, and visual stimuli combine to influence how alerting, or pleasant, a particular environment, or stimulus (such as, for example, a work of art), is rated as being (e.g., Banks, Ng, & Jones-Gotman, 2012; Battacharya & Lindsen, 2016).

These researchers examined the effects of an office make-over when a company moved to a new office building. The employees in the new office were given individual control of the temperature, lighting, air quality, and acoustic conditions where they were work ing.

Productivity increased by approximately 15% in the new building. When the individual control of the ambi ent multisensory environment was disabled in the new building, performance fell by around 2% instead. Trying to balance the influence of each of the senses is one of the aims of Finnish architect Juhani Pallasmaa, whose name we have come across at several points already in this text.

As Steven Holl notes in the preface to Pallas maa’s The eyes of the skin: “I have experienced the archi tecture of Juhani Pallasmaa, … The way spaces feel, the sound and smell of these places, has equal weight to the Fig. 8 The Ira Keller Fountain, Portland Oregon. According to Pallasmaa (2011), p. 596) this is “An architecture for all the senses including the kinaesthetic and olfactory senses.”

Once again, the auditory element is provided by the sound of falling water way things look.” (Pallasmaa, 1996, p. 7). One example of multisensory architectural design to which Juhani Pal lasmaa draws attention in several of his writings is the Ira Keller Fountain, Portland Oregon (see Fig. 8). On the multisensory integration of atmospheric/ environmental cues To date, only a relatively small number of studies have directly studied the influence of combined ambient/at mospheric cues on people’s perception, feelings, and/or behaviour. Mattila and Wirtz (2001) conducted one of the first sensory marketing studies to be published in this area.

These researchers manipulated the olfactory environment (no scent, a low-arousal scent (lavender), or a high-arousal scent (grapefruit)) while simultan eously manipulating the presence of music (no music, low-arousal music, or high-arousal music). When the scent and music were congruent in terms of their arousal potential, the customers rated the store envir onment more positively, exhibited higher levels of ap proach and impulse-buying behaviour, and expressed more satisfaction.

There is, though, always a very real danger of sensory overload if the combined multisen sory input becomes too stimulating (see Malhotra, 1984; Simmel, 1995). Meanwhile, in another representative field study, Sayin et al. (2015) investigated the impact of presenting ambi ent soundscapes in an underground car park in Paris. In particular, they assessed the effects of introducing west ern European birdsong or classical instrumental music by Albinoni to the three normally silent stairwells used by members of the general public when exiting the car park. A total of 77 drivers were asked about their feel ings on their way out.

Birdsong was found to work best in terms of enhancing the perceived safety of the situation- in this case by around 6%. This despite the fact that all of those who were quizzed realized that the sounds that they had heard were coming from loud speakers.12 In an accompanying series of laboratory studies, Sayin et al.’s participants were shown a 60-s first-person perspective video that had been taken in the same Paris car park, or else a short video of someone walking through a metro station in Istanbul.

At the outset, when starting to consider the multisensory perception of architecture, it is worth noting that it is rarely something that we attend to. Indeed, as Benjamin (1968, p. 239) once noted: “Architecture has always represented the proto type of a work of art the reception of which is consum mated in a state of distraction.”

To the extent that such a view is correct, one can say that multisensory architec ture is rarely foregrounded in our attention/experience. Juhani Pallasma, meanwhile, has suggested that: “An architectural experience silences all external noise; it focuses attention on one’s very existence.” (Pallasmaa, 1994, p. 31).

Once again, the suggestion here would appear to be that attention is directed away from the building and toward the individual and their place in the world. Given that, on an everyday basis, architecture is typically not foregrounded in our attention/experience, one might legitimately wonder as to whether the multisensory integration of atmospheric/environmental cues takes place, given that they are so often unattended.

According to the laboratory research that has been published on this question to date, the evidence would appear to suggest that while the multisensory integration of unattended cues relating to an object or event certainly can occur, it is by no means guaranteed to do so (see Spence & Frings, 2020, for a review). Perhaps the more fundamental question here, though, is whether we need to attend to ambient/environmental sensory cues for them to influence us. However, the research that has been published to date would appear to suggest that very often environmental cues influence us even when we are not consciously aware of, or thinking about them. 

One particularly striking example of this was reported by researchers who manipulated whether French or German music was played in a supermarket (North, et al., 1997, 1999). The results showed that the majority of the wine purchased was French when French music was played, with this reversing to a majority of German wines being sold when German music was played.

The even more striking aspect of these results was the fact that the majority of those interviewed after coming away from the tills denied that the background music had any influence over the choices they made. A number of studies have also shown that scents that we are unaware of, either because they are presented just below the perceptual threshold or because we have become functionally anosmic to their constant presence, can nevertheless still influence us (Li, Moallem, Paller, & Gottfried, 2007).

Similarly, there is also a suggestion that inaudible infrasound waves (i.e., < 20 Hz) may also affect people without their necessarily being aware of their presence (Weichenberger et al., 2017). Meanwhile, in terms of visual annoyance, it has been reported that flickering LED lights that look no different to the naked eye can nevertheless trigger a significantly greater number of headaches that non-flickering lights (e.g., see Wilkins, 2017; Wilkins, Nimmo-Smith, Slater, & Bedocs, 1989).

Once again, therefore, this suggests that ambient sensory phenomena do not necessarily need to be perceptible in order to affect us, adversely or otherwise. On the benefits of multisensory design:

bringing it all together One demonstration of just how dramatic the benefits of designing for multiple senses can be was reported by Kroner, Stark-Martin, and Willemain (1992) in a tech nical report.

Indeed, those who take up the challenge of designing for the multisensory mind might well take a tip from one commentator, writing in Adver tising Age when talking about product innovation who suggested that: “… the most successful new products ap peal on both rational and emotional levels to as many senses as possible.” (Neff, 2000, p. 22).

Architectural de sign practice, I suggest, would be well-advised to strive for much the same in order to optimally stimulate the multisensory mind. Although not the primary interest of the present re view, it is perhaps also worth noting in passing, how a very similar debate on the importance of designing for the non-visual senses has been playing out amongst those interested specifically in landscape design/architec ture (Lynch & Hack, 1984; Mahvash, 2007; Treib, 1995).

The garden is a multisensory space and as Mark Treib wrote once in an essay entitled “Must landscape mean?”: “Today might be a good time to once more examine the garden in relation to the senses.” Designing for the multisensory mind: architectural design for all the senses The architect must act as a composer that orches trates space into a synchronization for function and beauty through the senses– and how the human body engages space is of prime importance.

As the human body moves, sees, smells, touches, hears and even tastes within a space– the architecture comes to life. The rhythm of an architecture can be felt by occu pants as a result of the architect’s composition– or arrangement of all the sensorial qualities of space. By arranging spatial sensorial features, an architect can lead occupants through the functional and aes thetic rhythms of a created place. Architectural building for all the senses can serve to move occu pants– elevating their experience. (quote from a blogpost by Lehman, 2009).

One of the most exciting developments in cognitive neuroscience in recent decades has been the growing realization that perception/experience is far more multi sensory than anyone had realized (e.g., Bruno & Pavani, 2018; Calvert et al., 2004; Levent & Pascual-Leone, 2014; Stein, 2012). That is, what we hear and smell, and what we think about the experience, is often influenced by what we see, and vice versa (Calvert et al., 2004; Stein, 2012). The senses talk to, and hence influence, one an other all the time, though we often remain unaware of these cross-sensory interactions and influences.

In fact, wherever neuroscientists look in the human brain, activity appears to be modulated by what is going on in more than one sense, leading, increasingly, to talk of the mul tisensory mind (Ghazanfar & Schroeder, 2006; Talsma, 2015). The key question here must therefore be what implications this growing realization of the ubiquity of multisensory cross-talk has for the field of architectural design practice?

The problem is that, as yet, there has been relatively little research directed at the question of how atmospheric/environmental multisensory cues actually inter act. Mattila and Wirtz (2001, pp. 273–274) drew attention to this lacuna some years ago when writing that: “Past studies have examined the effects of individ ual pleasant stimuli such as music, color or scent on consumer behavior, but have failed to examine how these stimuli might interact.”

The suggestion here that “colours in general … often evoke … [a] taste” seemingly linking to the widespread literature on the crossmodal 11. Indeed, one might wonder whether the latter quote refers more to oral stereoagnosis (Jacobs, Serhal, & van Steenberghe, 1998), than specifically to gustation (see also Waterman Jr., 1917, for the suggestion that the tongue can be more revealing than the hand). correspondences that have increasingly been docu mented between colour and basic tastes (see Spence et al., 2015, for a review).

However, rather than describ ing this in terms of architecture that one can taste, one might more fruitfully refer to the growing literature on crossmodal correspondences instead (see below for more on this theme). When, in his book Architecture and the brain, Eber hard (2007, p. 47) talks about what the sense of taste has to do with architecture, he suggests that: “You may not literally taste the materials in a building, but the design of a restaurant can have an impact on your ‘conditioned response’ to the taste of the food.” Environmental multi sensory effects on tasting is undoubtedly an area that has grown markedly in interest in recent years (e.g., see Spence, 2020c, for a review).

It is though worth noting that just as for the olfactory case, some atmospheric ef fects on tasting may be more cognitively-mediated (e.g., associated with the priming of notions of luxury/ex pense, or lack thereof) while others may be more direct, as when changing the colour (see Oberfeld, Hecht, Allendorf, & Wickelmaier, 2009; Spence, Velasco, & Knoeferle, 2014; Torrico et al., 2020) or brightness (Gal et al., 2007; Xu & LaBroo, 2014) of the ambient lightingchanges taste/flavour perception. “An architecture of the seven senses”? So far in this section, we have briefly reviewed the uni sensory contributions of architectural design organized around each of the five main senses (vision audition, touch, smell, and taste).

However, seemingly not content with the traditional five, Pallasmaa (1994) goes further in the title of one of his early articles entitled “An architec ture of the seven senses.” While the text itself is not altogether clear, or explicit, on this point, the skeleton and muscles would appear to be the extra senses that Pallasmaa has in mind here. Indeed, the embodied re sponse of people to architecture is definitely something that has captured the imagination, not to mention in trigued, a number of architectural theorists in recent years (e.g., see Bloomer & Moore, 1977; Pallasmaa, 2011; Pérez-Gómez, 2016). The vestibular sense is also worthy of mention here (see Gulden & Grüsser, 1998; Indovina et al., 2005). Anyone who has tried out one of the VR simulations of walking along the outside ledge of a tall building will have had the feeling of vertigo.

Call it medicinal urbanism.” (Hosey, 2013). Effects on people’s mood resulting from exposure to ambient scent have been reported in some by no means all studies (Glass &Heuberger, 2016; Glass, Lingg, & Heuberger, 2014; Haehner et al., 2017;Weber&Heuberger, 2008). It re mains somewhat uncertain though whether the beneficial effects of aromatherapy scents can be explained by prim ing effects, based on associative learning, as in the case of the clean citrus scents mentioned above (see Herz, 2009), versus via a more direct (i.e., less cognitively mediated) physiological route (cf. Harada, Kashiwadani, Kanmura, & Kuwaki, 2018).

The olfactory scentscapes, and scent maps of cities, that have been discussed by various researchers (see Fig. 6) have also helped to draw people’s attention to the often rich olfactory landscapes offered by many urban spaces (e.g., https://sensorymaps.com/; Bucknell, 2018; Henshaw, 2014; Henshaw et al., 2018; Lipps, 2018; Lupton & Lipps, 2018; Margolies, 2006).

The notion of the healing garden has also seen something of a resurgence in recent years, and the benefits now, as historically, are likely to revolve, at least in part, around the healing, or restorative effect of the smell of flowers and plants (e.g., Pearson, 1991; see also Ottoson & Grahn, 2005). One building that is often mentioned in this regard, namely in terms of its olfactory design   credentials, is the Silicon House by architects, SelgasCano, situated on the outskirts of Madrid (https://www.archi tectmagazine.com/project-gallery/silicon-house-6143).

This house is set in what has been described as “a garden of smells”, which emphasize the olfactory, while also stressing the tactile elements of the design. Hence, while the olfactory aspects of architectural design practice have long been ignored, there are at least signs of a revival of interest in stimulating this sense through both architectural and urban design practice.

Architectural taste The British writer and artist Adrian Stokes once wrote of the “oral invitation of Veronese marble” (Stokes, 1978, p. 316). And while I must admit that I have never felt the urge to lick a brick, Pallasmaa (1996, p. 59) vividly recounts the urge that he once experienced to explore /connect with architecture using his tongue. He writes that: “Many years ago when visiting the DL James Residence in Carmel, California, designed by Charles and Henry Greene, I felt compelled to kneel and touch the delicately shining white marble threshold of the front door with my tongue.

The sensuous materials and skilfully crafted details of Carlo Scarpa’s architecture as well as the sensuous colours of Luis Barragan’s houses frequently evoke oral experiences. Deliciously coloured surfaces of stucco lustro, a highly polished colour or wood surfaces also present themselves to the appreci ation of the tongue.”

Perhaps aware of many readers’ presumed scepticism on the theme of the gustatory contribution to architecture,11 Pallasmaa writes elsewhere that: “The suggestions that the sense of taste would have a role in the appreciation of architecture may sound preposterous. However, polished and coloured stone as well as colours in general, and finely crafted wood details, for instance, often evoke an awareness of mouth and taste. Carlo Scarpa’s architectural details frequently evoke sensation of taste.” (Pallasmaa, 2011, p. 595).

Brooklyn Nets, as a case in point. On its opening in 2013, various commentators in the press drew attention to the distinctive, if not immediately identifiable, scent that appeared to pervade the space, and which appeared to have been added deliberately- almost as if it were intended to be a signature scent for the space (e.g., Al brecht, 2013; Doll, 2013; Martinez, 2013).

That said, the idea of fragrancing public spaces dates back at least as far as 1913. In that year, at the opening of the Marmor haus cinema in Berlin, the fragrance of Marguerite Carré, a perfume by Bourjois, Paris, was deliberately (and innovatively, at least for the time) wafted through the auditorium (Berg-Ganschow & Jacobsen, 1987). Meanwhile, in what may well be a sign of things to come, synaesthetic perfumer Dawn Goldsworthy and her scent design company 12:29 recently made the press after apparently creating a bespoke scent for a new US$40 million apartment in Miami (Schroeder, 2018). What further opportunities might there be to design distinctive “signature” scents for spaces/buildings, one might ask (Henshaw et al., 2018; Jones, 2006; Trivedi, 2006)?

Evidence that the olfactory element of design can be used to affect behaviour change positively includes, for example, the observation that people tend to engage in more cleaning behaviours when there is a hint of citrus in the air (De Lange, Debets, Ruitenburg, & Holland, 2012; Holland, Hendriks, & Aarts, 2005). In the future, it may not be too much of a stretch to imagine public spaces filled with aromatic flowers and blossoming trees, introduced with the aim of helping to discourage people from littering, and who knows, perhaps even reducing vandalism (see also Steinwald, Harding, & Piacentini, 2014).

In terms of the cognitive mechanism underlying such crossmodal effects of scent on behaviour, the suggestion, at least in the citrus cleaning example just mentioned, is that smelling an ambient scent that we associate with clean and cleaning then activates, or primes, the associated concepts (Smeets & Dijksterhuis, 2014). Having been primed, the suggestion is thus that this makes it that bit more likely that we will engage in behaviours that are congruent or consistent with the primed concept (though see Doyen, Klein, Pichon, & Cleeremans, 2012).

Elsewhere, researchers have already demonstrated the beneficial effects that lavender, and other scents normally associated with aromatherapy, have on those who are ex posed to them. So, for instance, the latter tend to show re duced stress, better sleep, and even enhanced recovery from illness (see Herz, 2009; Spence, 2003, for reviews; though see also Haehner, Maass, Croy, & Hummel, 2017). According to one commentator writing in The New York Times: “While these findings have obvious implications for health care, the opportunities for architecture and urban planning are particularly intriguing. Designers are trained to focus mostly on the visual, but the science of design could significantly expand designers’ sensory palette.

According to Donnell Jr. et al. (1989), these complaints of odours may well have heightened the perception of poor air quality by some employees in the building.

This, in turn, may have led to an epidemic anxiety state resulting in the SBS outbreak (Faust & Brilliant, 1981). In fact, workers suffering from SBS were more than twice as likely to have noticed a particular odour in the work area before the onset of their symptoms than those who were working in the same building who were unaffected by the outbreak.9

At the same time, however, it should also be borne in mind that our tendency to focus on what we see and hear means that we often exhibit olfactory anosmia to ambient scents (Forster & Spence, 2018). To give a sense of the potential scale of the problem, Woods (1989) estimated that 30–70 million people in the USA alone are exposed to offices that manifest SBS. As such, anything (and everything) that can be done to reduce the symptoms associated with this reaction to the indoor environment (Finnegan, Pickering, & Burge, 1984) will likely have a beneficial effect on the health and well-being of many people.

At the same time, however, it is perhaps also worth bearing in mind here that the incidence of SBS would seem to have declined in recent years (though see also Joshi, 2008; Magnavita, 2015; Redlich, Sparer, & Cullen, 1997), perhaps suggesting that building design/ventilation has improved as a result of the earlier outbreaks.10

That said, it is perhaps also worth noting that there continues to be some uncertainty as to whether the very real symptoms of SBS should be attributed to airborne pollutants, or may instead be better understood as a psychosomatic response to a particular environmental atmosphere (see Fletcher, 2005 and Love, 2018). What is more, there has been a move by some researchers to talk in terms of the less pejorative-sounding building-related symptoms (BRS) in stead (Niemelä, Seppänen, Korhonen, & Reijula, 2006).

One more psychological factor that may be relevant here concerns the feeling of a lack of control over one’s multisensory environment that many of those working in ventilated buildings where the windows cannot be opened manually have may indeed play a role in the elicitation of SBS. Scent and the city: designing fragrant spaces There are, however, signs that the situation is slowly starting to change with regards to the emphasis placed on olfaction in both architectural and urban design prac tice.

For instance, a number of commentators have noted, not to mention sometimes been puzzled by, the distinctive, yet unexplained, pleasant- and hence, one assumes, deliberately introduced- fragrances that some new constructions appear to have. Just take the case of the Barclays Center arena in Brooklyn, NY, home of the Brooklyn Nets, as a case in point.

9. It is also worth noting how suggestible people can be concerning the presence of an odour, as first demonstrated by Slosson’s(1899) classic classroom demonstration of students in the lecture theatre detecting a fictitious odour in the air.

10. It has also been suggested that the energy crisis in the 1970s may also have been partly to blame, as that tended to result in lower ventilation standards.

Some years later, Jim Drobnik introduced the latter phrase in order to highlight the fact that too many spaces are seemingly deliberately designed to have no smell, nor to leave any lasting olfactory trace, either.8

6. Writer Tanizaki (2001), in his essay on aesthetics In Praise of Shadows, also draws attention to the close interplay that exists, or better said, once existed, between architectural design and food/ plateware design in traditional Japanese culture.

7. Intriguingly, Kirshenblatt-Gimblett (1991, p. 416) describes the white cube as an apparatus for “single-sense epiphanies”.

8. This despite Baudelaire’s line that the smell of a room is “the soul of the apartment” (quoted in Corbin, 1986, p. 169)

And thinking back to my memories of visiting my own grandfather, long since deceased, on his fairground wagon in Bradford, it was undoubtedly the intense smell of “derv” (English slang for diesel-engine road vehicle), the liquid diesel oil that was used for trucks at the time, that I can still remember better than anything else. The residents of buildings tend to adapt to the positive and neutral smells in the buildings we inhabit.

This is evidenced by the fact that we are typically only aware of the smell of our own home, what some call building odour, or BO for short, when we return after a long trip away (Dalton & Wysocki, 1996; McCooey, 2008). Sick building syndrome and the problem of poor olfactory design Improving indoor air quality might well also provide an effective means of helping to alleviate some of the symptoms of sick building syndrome (SBS) that were mentioned earlier (Guieysse et al., 2008).

It is certainly striking how many large outbreaks of this still mysterious condition reported in the 1980s were linked to the presence of an unfamiliar smell in closed office buildings with little natural ventilation (Wargocki, Wyon, Baik, Clausen, & Fanger, 1999; Wargocki, Wyon, Sundell, Clausen, & Fanger, 2000). For instance, in June 1986, more that 12% of the workforce of 2500 people working at the Harry S. Truman State Office Building in Missouri came down with the symptoms of SBS over a 3-day period (Donnell Jr. et al., 1989).

The symptoms presented by some of the workers (including dizziness and difficulty in breathing) were so severe they had to be rushed to the local hospital for emergency treatment. And while a thorough examination of the building subsequently failed to reveal the presence of any particular toxic airborne pollutants that might have been responsible for the outbreak, in the majority of cases, it turned out that the symptoms of SBS were preceded by the perception of unusual odours and inadequate airflow in the building.

There, she points to examples such as the hearth, the sauna, and Roman and Japanese baths as archetypes of thermal delight about which rituals have developed, the shared experience reinforcing social bonds of affection and ceremony (see also Lupton, 2002; Papale et al., 2016). At this point, one might also want to mention the much-admired Therme Vals Spa by Peter Zumthor, in Switzerland with their use of different temperatures of both water and touchable surfaces (Ryan, 1997, though see also Mairs, 2017).

The tactile element is, in other words, fundamental to the total (multisensory) experi ence of architectural design. This is true no matter whether the materiality is touched directly or not (i.e., merely seen, inferred, or imagined). So, for example, here one might only think about how looking at a cheap fake marble or wood veneer can make one feel, to realize that touch in often not required to assess material qual ity, or the lack thereof (see also Karana, 2010).

An architecture of the chemical senses Talking of an architecture of scent, or of taste (these two of the so-called chemical senses), might seem like a step too far. That said, one does come across titles such as Eating Architecture (Horwitz & Singley, 2004) and An Architecture of Smell (McCarthy, 1996; see also Barbara & Perliss, 2006).6 Unfortunately, however, all too often, consideration of the olfactory in architectural design practice has focused on the elimination of negative odours. When thinking about the mundane experience of odours in buildings, what immediately comes to mind includes the smell of wood (i.e., building materials), dust, mould, cleaning products, and flowers.

As Eberhard (2007, p. 47) puts it: “We all have our favorite smells in a building, as well as ones that are considered noxious. A cedar closet in the bedroom is an easy example of a good smell. The terrible smell of a house that was rav aged by fire or floods is seared in the memory of those who have endured one of these disasters.”

This is perhaps no coincidence, given that it tends to be the bad odours, rather than the neutral or positive ones, that have generally proved most effective in immersing us in an experience (Baus & Bouchard, 2017; see also Aggle ton & Waskett, 1999).

Research by Schifferstein, Talke, and Oudshoorn (2011) investigated whether the nightlife experience could be enhanced by the use of pleasant fra grance to mask the stale odour after the indoor smoking ban was introduced a few years ago.

Once again, notice how the focus here is on the elimination of the negative stale odours rather than necessarily the introduction of the positive (the latter merely being introduced in order to mask the former). Jim Drohnik captures the idea of olfactory absence when talking about not just the “white cube” mentality but the “anosmic cube” (Drobnick, 2005). The former phrase was famously coined by O’Doherty (1999, 2009) in order to describe the then-popular practice of display ing art in gallery spaces that were devoid of colour or any other form of visual distraction. 7

Designing for “the eyes of the skin”

The tactile element of architecture is often ignored. In fact, very often, the first point of physical contact with a building typically occurs when we enter or leave. Or, as Pallasmaa (1994, p. 33) once evocatively put it: “The door handle is the handshake of the building”.

However, once inside a building, it is worth remembering that we will also typically make contact with flooring (Tonetto, Klanovicz, & Spence, 2014), hand rails (Spence, 2020d), elevator buttons, furniture, and the like (though this is, of course, likely to change somewhat in the era of pan demia). As Richard Sennett, author of Flesh and Stone, laments in his critical take on the sensory order of mod ernity: “sensory deprivation which seems to curse most modern buildings; the dullness, the monotony, and the tactile sterility which afflicts the urban environment” (Sennett, 1994, p. 15).

The absence of tactile interest is also something that Witold Rybczynski author of The Look of Architecture acknowledges when writing that: “Although architecture is often defined in terms of abstractions such as space, light and volume, build ings are above all physical artifacts. The experience of architecture is palpable: the grain of wood, the veined surface of marble, the cold precision of steel, the tex tured pattern of brick.” (Rybczynski, 2001, p. 89).

No tice here how Rybczynski mentions both texture and temperature, two of the key attributes of tactile sensa tion(see also Henderson, 1939). Temperature change, and change in the flooring material (tatami matting or cedarwood), is also something that the Tom mu seum for the blind in Tokyo also plays with deliber ately (Classen, 1998, p. 150; Vorreiter, 1989;Wagner, 1989). There is also a braille poen on the knob of the exit door too.

The careful use of material can evoke tactility as the viewer (or occupant) imagines or mentally simulates what it would feel like to reach out and touch or caress an intriguing surface (Sigsworth, 2019; see also Lupton, 2002). Juhani Pallasmaa, who has perhaps written more than anyone else on the theme of the tactile, or haptic in architecture, writes that “Natural materials- stone, brick and wood- allow the gaze to penetrate their sur faces and they enable us to become convinced of the veracity of matter …

But the materials of today- sheets of glass, enamelled metal and synthetic materials present their unyielding surfaces to the eye without conveying anything of their material essence or age.” (Pallasmaa, 1994,p.29). Lisa Heschong, architect, and partner of architectural research firm Heschong Mahone Group, has written ex tensively on the theme of thermal (as opposed to tex tural) aspects of architectural design in her book Thermal Delight in Architecture (Heschong, 1979).

Intriguingly, subjective restoration was significantly higher amongst those who thought that they were listening to the nature sounds than in those who thought that they were listening to industrial noise instead. As might have been expected, the results of the control group, fell somewhere in between.

Paley Park in New York has often been put forward as a particularly elegant solution to the problem of negating unwanted traffic noise in the context of urban design (e.g., Carroll, 1967; Prochnik, 2009). In 1967, the empty lot resulting from the demolition of the Stork Club on 53rd Street was transformed into a small public park (a so called pocket park). The space was developed by Zion and Breen.

In this case, the acoustic space, think only of the sounds, or better said noise, of the city, is effectively masked by the presence of a waterfall at the far end of the lot (see Fig. 5). What is more, the free-standing chairs allow the visitor to move closer to the waterfall should they feel the need to drown out a little more of the urban noise.

The greenery growing thickly along the side walls also likely helps to absorb the noise of the city. Music plays an important role in our experience of the built environment- think here only of the Muzak of de cades gone by (Lanza, 2004). This is as true of the guest’s hotel experience (e.g., when entering the lobby) as it is elsewhere (e.g., in a shopping centre or bar, say).5

The sound that greets customers in the lobby is apparently very important to Ian Schrager, the Brooklyn-born entrepreneur who created fabled nightclub Studio 54 in New York. In recent years, he has been working with Marriott to launch The EDITION hotels in a number of major cities, including London and New York. Music plays a key role in the Schrager experience.

As the entrepreneur puts it: “The sound of a hotel lobby is often dictated by monotonous, vapid lounge muzak– a zombie-like drone of new jazz and polite house, with the sole purpose of whiling away the waiting time between check-in and check-out.” As might have been expected, the music in the lobbies of The EDITION hotels is carefully curated (Eriksen, 2014, p. 27).

However, the thumping noise of the music from the nightclub/bar that is often also an integral part of the experience offered by these hip venues means that meticulous architectural design is also required in order to limit the spread of unwanted noise through the rest of the building (e.g., so as not to disturb the sleep of those who may be resting in the rooms upstairs). Note here that there are also some increasingly sophisticated solutions- including sound-absorbing panels, as well as active noise cancellation systems- to dampen unwanted sound in open spaces such as restaurants and offices (Clynes, 2012).

5Here, one might also consider the Abercrombie & Fitch clothing brand. For a number of years, the chain also managed to craft a distinctive dance sound to match the dark nightclub-like appearance of their interiors.

However, more often than not, discussion around sound and architectural design tends to revolve around how best to avoid, or minimize, unwantednoise(seeOwen,2019, on growing concerns re garding the latter). Indeed, as J. Douglas Porteous notes: “with the rapid urbanization of the world’spopulation, far more attention is being given to noise than to environmental sound …

Research has concentrated almost entirely upon a single aspect of sound, the concept of noise or ‘unwanted sound.’” (Porteous, 1990, p. 48). Some years earlier, Schafer (1977, p. 222) had made much the same point when he wrote that:

“The modern architect is designing for the deaf …. The study of sound enters modern architecture schools only as sound reduction, isolation and absorption.” The fact that year-on-year, noise continues to be one of the top complaints from restaurant patrons, perhaps tells us all we need to know about how successful designers have been in this regard (see Spence, 2014, for a review; Wagner, 2018).

There is also an emerging story here regarding the deleterious effects of loud background noise, and the often-beneficial effects of music and soundscapes, on the recovery of patients in the hospital/healthcare setting (see Spence & Keller, 2019, for a review). Meanwhile, one of the main complaints from those office workers forced to move into one of the open plan offices that have become so popular (amongst employers, if not em ployees) in recent years (see ‘Redesigning the corporate office’, 2019) is around noise distraction (Borzykowski, 2017; Burkus, 2016; Evans & Johnson, 2000).4

Once again, one might want to ask what responsibility architects bear. Experimental evidence documenting the deleterious effect of open-plan working has been reported by a number of researchers (e.g., Bernstein & Turban, 2018; De Croon, Sluiter, Kuijer, & Frings-Dresen, 2005; Otterbring, Pareigis, Wästlund, Makrygiannis, & Lindström, 2018). There is research ongoing in a number of countries to investigate the use of nature sounds, such as, for example, the sound of running water, to help mask other people’s distracting conversations (Hongisto, Varjo, Oliva, Haapa kangas, & Benway, 2017). 


4 This an issue close to my own heart currently, as the Department where I work was closed due to the discovery of large amounts of asbestos (see BBC News, 2017). The university and the latest firm of architects involved in the project are currently battling it out to determine how much of the new building will be given over to individual offices versus shared open-plan offices and hot-desking. The omens, I have to say (at least pre-pandemic), from what is happening elsewhere in the education sector, do not look good (Kinman & Gar field, 2015).
Intriguingly, however, it turns out that people’s beliefs about the source of masking sounds, especially in the case of ambiguous noise, can sometimes influence how much relief they provide (Haga, Halin, Holmgren, & Sörqvist, 2016). So, for instance, Haga and her colleagues played the same ambiguous pink noise with interspersed white noise to three groups of office workers. To one control group, the experimenters said nothing, a second group of participants was told that they could hear industrial machinery noise, while a third group was told that they were listening to nature sounds, based on a waterfall, instead.

One might consider here whether Lee’s comments can be scaled up to describe how we move through the city. Does the visually striking building shown in Fig.4, for instance, really promote joyfulness and a carefree travel through the urban environment.
It seems doubtful, given the evidence suggesting that viewing angular shapes, even briefly, has been shown to trigger a fear response in the amygdala, the part of the brain that is involved in emotion (e.g., LeDoux, 2003). Meanwhile, Liu, Bogicevic, and Mattila (2018)have noted how the round versus angular nature of the servi cescape also influences the consumer response in service encounters. The height of the ceiling has also been shown to exert an influence over our approach-avoidance responses, and perhaps even our style of thinking (Baird, Cassidy, & Kurr, 1978; Meyers-Levy & Zhu, 2007; Vartanian et al., 2015).

However, here it should also be born in mind that the visual perception of space is significantly influenced by colour and lighting (Lam, 1992; Manav, Kutlu, & Küçükdoğu, 2010; Oberfeld, Hecht, & Gamer, 2010; von Castell, Hecht, & Oberfeld, 2018). Given many such psy chological observations, it should perhaps come as no surprise to find that links between cognitive neurosci ence and architecture have grown rapidly in recent years (Choo, Nasar, Nikrahei, & Walther, 2017; Eberhard, 2007; Mallgrave, 2011; Robinson & Pallasmaa, 2015). At the same time, however,

it is also worth remembering that it has primarily been people’s response to examples or styles of architecture that have been presented visu ally (via a monitor), with the participant lying horizontal, that have been studied to date, given the confines of the brain-scanning environment (though see also Papale, Chiesi, Rampinini, Pietrini, & Ricciardi, 2016).3 3Relevant here, Mitchell (2005) has suggested that there are, in fact, no uniquely visual media.

At the same time, however, it is important to realize that it is not just our visual cortex that re sponds to architecture. For, as Frances Anderton writes in The Architectural Review: “We appreciate a place not just by its impact on our visual cortex but by the way in which it sounds, it feels and smells. Some of these sensual experiences elide, for instance our full understanding of wood is often achieved by a perception of its smell, its texture (which can be ap preciated by both looking and feeling) and by the way in which it modulates the acoustics of the space.” (Anderton, 1991, p. 27).

The multisensory appreciation of quality here linking to a growing body of research on multisensory shitsukan perception shitsukan, the Japaneseword for “a sense of material quality” or “material perception” (see Fujisaki, 2020; Komatsu & Goda, 2018; Spence, 2020b). The following sub-sections summarize some of the key findings on how the non-visual sensory attributes of the built and urban environment affect us, when considered individually.

The sound of space: are you listening? What a space sounds like is undoubtedly important (Bavis ter, Lawrence, & Gage, 2018; McLuhan, 1961; Porteous & Mastin, 1985;Thompson,1999). Sounds can, after all, pro vide subtle cues as to the identity or proportions of a space, even hinting at its function (Blesser & Salter, 2007;Eber hard, 2007; Robart & Rosenblum, 2005). As Pallasmaa (1994,p.31) notes:“Every building or space has its charac teristic sound of intimacy or monumentality, rejection or invitation, hospitality or hostility.”

Meanwhile, Howes (2014) writes of the sensory monotony of the bungalow filled suburbs and of the corporeal experience of sky scrapers as their presence looms up before those on the sidewalk below. At the same time, however, there is also a sense in which it is the gaze of the inhabitants of those tall buildings who are offered the view that is prioritized over the other senses.

However, very often the approach as, in fact, evidenced by Malnar and Vodvarka (2004) has been to work one sense at a time. Until recently, that is, one finds exactly the same kind of sense-by-sense (or unisensory) approach in the worlds of interior design (Bailly Dunne & Sears, 1998), advertising (Lucas & Britt, 1950), marketing (Hultén, Broweus, & Dijk, 2009; Krishna, 2013; Lind strom, 2005), and atmospherics (see Bille & Sørensen, 2018, on architectural atmospherics; and Kotler, 1974, on the theme of store atmospherics).

Recently, there has been a growing recognition of the importance of the non-visual senses to various fields of design (Haverkamp, 2014; Lupton & Lipps, 2018; Malnar & Vodvarka, 2004). As yet, however, there has not been sufficient recognition of the extent to which the senses interact. As Wil liams (1980, p. 5) noted some 40years ago: “Aside from meeting common standards of performance, architects do little creatively with acoustical, thermal, olfactory, and tactile sensory responses.” As we will see later, it is not clear that much has changed since.

The look of architecture There are a number of ways in which visual perception science can be linked to architectural design practice. For instance, think only of the tricks played on the eyes by the trapezoidal balconies on the famous The Future apartment building in Manhattan (see Fig. 2). They
appear to slant downward when viewed from one side while appearing to slope upward instead, if viewed from the other. The causes of such a visual illusion can, at the very least, be meaningfully explained in terms of visual perception research (Bruno & Pavani, 2018).


Cognitive neuroscientists have recently demonstrated that we have an innate preference for visual curvature, be it in internal space (Vartanian et al., 2013), or for the fur niture that is found within that space (Dazkir & Read, 2012; see also Lee, 2018; Thömmes & Hübner, 2018). We typically rate curvilinear forms as being more approach able than rectilinear ones (see Fig. 3). Angular forms, espe cially when pointing downward/toward us, may well be perceived as threatening, and hence are somewhat more likely to trigger an avoidance response (Salgado-Montejo, Salgado, Alvarado, & Spence, 2017).

As Ingrid Lee, former design director at IDEO New York put it in her book, Joyful: The surprising power of ordinary things to create extra ordinary happiness: “Angular objects, even if they’re not directly in your path as you move through your home, have an unconscious effect on your emotions. They may look chic and sophisticated, but they inhibit our playful impulses. Round shapes do just the opposite. A circular or elliptical coffee table changes a living room from a space for sedate, restrained interaction to a lively center for conversation and impromptu games” (Lee, 2018,p.142).